Blogging Across America Archives

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"Crackhead University" and Newburgh NY

The upstate New York version of the South Bronx, otherwise known as Newburgh, has been featured here in the past. In October 2003 I visited that less-than-charming burg: "Where can I buy crack in the mid-Hudson River Valley region of New York State?"

While driving through a semi-rural area that was the last thing I was expecting to find.

Then, last year John Kerry and Teresa Heinz ate at a Wendy's there and I provided extensive coverage.

Now, "LouDAWG" informs us that they even made a documentary about that fine city: "Crackhead University".

Posted at 01:34 PM | Comments (3)

Chinga Chinga Boom Boom Chinga Chinga

Can you imagine some really bad porno music? You know, the kind with the rhythm guitars or the saxophones, preferably from the 70s or 80s?

OK.

Now, read this report from the LAT: "We're Not in G-Rated Kansas Anymore"

ABILENE, Kan. — Outside, the prairie lies dark and still. In the windowless gray building by the Interstate 70 offramp, a clerk with a tired face rings up sex toys. "Need batteries for that?" she asks politely, again and again...

Adult "superstores" like this are popping up all over rural America — brightly lighted, clean, as well-organized and well-stocked as a Wal-Mart.

Remote freeway offramps are X-rated in Quaker City, Ohio (pop. 563), and Nelson, Mo. (pop. 212), in Montrose, Ill., and Perry, Mich. The Lion's Den chain operates 29 stores in the Midwest, including this one in Abilene, off Exit 272, near the cows and hay bales of Dickinson County...

Of course, I noticed this last year and recently as well.

Posted at 03:28 PM | Comments (0)

What is it about Salina Kansas?

Last year, while driving across Kansas, I stopped at a store selling gothic/fetish clothing.

Now, someone is camped out on the roof of a different store that sells porno:

Written on a white sheet tacked to the front of Behind Closed Doors, 768 N. Broadway, are the words: “Honk if you support the right to choose for yourselves.”

Ray Morris, a Salina man who is spending a week on the roof of the adult store, got more than honks his first two days.

“Mostly, I’ve had a good response,” Morris said. “Some people honk. Some say, ‘Fight the good fight,’ or ‘We’re behind you,’ or things like that.”

Others, Morris said, have made obscene gestures.

Morris is spending a week on the roof to demonstrate against a group that is seeking a grand jury to investigate whether Behind Closed Doors and Priscilla’s, 2144 Planet, are promoting obscenity by selling sexually oriented products...

AP report here.

Posted at 11:53 AM | Comments (0)

"What was the key lesson learned on the Blogging Across America tour?"

People frequently ask me, "What was the key lesson learned on the Blogging Across America tour?"

And, I tell them in all seriousness, the key lesson learned - the one bit of info I find most perplexing - is this: there are no Chinese steam table restaurants outside California.

For those "foreigners" among you, these restaurants are generally located in small mini-malls. They feature a small seating area with about a dozen seats. There's a counter containing a steam table in which are set several dishes. For about $4 you can get rice, chow mein, and two main dishes. Note that that's not the same as a "Chinese buffet" where one can expect to pay more; most buffet places are also more sit-down oriented.

In all my travels throughout the entire four month Blogging Across America tour, I did not find a Chinese steam table to-go type of place except in California. The moment you enter California - in Blythe - suddenly there it is. Perhaps it has something to do with health codes, or perhaps California is just leading the nation. Yet again.

Posted at 08:46 PM | Comments (1)

Geronimo, Cochise, and me

As I was getting ready to leave Lordsburg, I was still debating where I was going to travel next and what I was going to do. West or North? Forsake L.A. and spend some quality time in Denver?

I briefly considered visiting the Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument. Tent camping there was free, but it was also about 20 degrees at night and it was (supposedly) a tough 2 hour drive from the monument to the next "big" town, Silver City. Subconsciously I sucked up my drive-to-the-monument time with my photo essay of Lordsburg. Then, I headed west and after just twenty miles I was rid of out of New Mexico and into Arizona.

I stopped to visit the Fort Bowie National Historic Site:

For more than 30 years Fort Bowie and Apache Pass were the focal point of military operations eventually culminating in the surrender of Geronimo in 1886 and the banishment of the Chiricahuas to Florida and Alabama. It was the site of the Bascom Affair, a wagon train massacre, and the battle of Apache Pass, where a large force of Chiricahua Apaches under Mangus Colorados and Cochise fought the California Volunteers... Apache resistance was finally crushed at Fort Bowie, and the result was the end of the Indian wars in the United States.

The several buildings which made up the fort are now in ruins, but it is worth a visit. Those who are disabled are allowed to take a road to the fort, everyone else has to walk there.

The drive from I10 to the trailhead is about 12 miles on back roads. The total walking distance to the fort (including that required to walk around the fort) is about 4 miles RT with about 200' of gain. It's an easy hike, but it goes through some attractive areas. It starts with dry southwestern scrub, but when you're in the area of the Apache Springs (which is still running) it gets a bit greener. I saw a fox cross the path and there are several other items of interest along the way, such as the route of the Butterfield stage.

The town of Bowie, Arizona itself has a business loop off the I10, but there didn't appear to be too many businesses still operating. The town of Bowie makes Lordsburg look like a thriving cosmopolitan metroplex. There is, however, a shop selling "pecans, walnuts, and wine," but it was closed. I got out of the car to stretch my legs a bit, but I waited until I was almost on the freeway to do it. There are still people living in Bowie, and I was a bit apprehensive with the thought of being set upon by rural street urchins. On the outskirts of town was a house with fresh green paint and a green and yellow fence. It looked a bit out of place to see something that wasn't delapidated in such a town; perhaps it belongs to the purveyors of those "pecans, walnuts, and wine."

Posted at 08:25 PM | Comments (1)

Lonewacko of Lordsburg

On my way out of El Paso, I made a bit of a mistake. Namely, I should have spent the night in Las Cruces. It's New Mexico's second largest city (OK, that's not saying much, but anyway...) and it seems to have some of the things that El Paso lacks.

For instance, I took a spin through the La Messilla area and I saw some Christmas carollers in the square there singing away for a crowd of about 100 people. It was mainly a family-type of event, and the only shops there appeared to be touron gift shops and restaurants, so I didn't stop. Nevertheless, unlike El Paso there appeared to be people out and about at night. The motels there are expensive for some reason, but I could have grabbed a tent site. Instead, I kept driving west on the 10. Just between you and me, I kinda wanted to get out of New Mexico. Not that it's that bad of a state and all, it's just that after spending a couple weeks in West Texas and southeast New Mexico, it was kinda wearing on me, if you know what I mean.

Around Deming, I started to get a bit tired, so I decided to look for accomodations. By this time I had decided to tent to save money. I stopped at the Road Runner campground. There were no other tent campers there, and it was a set of open spaces next to a fence separating it from another RV park. I didn't consider it that safe, so I kept on moving. I decided I could make it to Lordsburg before I crashed.

By the time I got to Lordsburg I couldn't drive any further. There's a KOA there, and that's where I planned to spend the night. When I first drove in, I saw a hare hop its merry way across the road. Oh, how nice! As it was late, the office was closed. But, as with most other KOA's, they love their late registrators.

While familiarizing myself with the campground map, someone approaches me on the driver's side and from behind, and asks if he can help me. I decide to take a look around first. He says I should go for it. The tent site at the back of the camp is taken, but the ones at the front are free. Unfortunately, the ones at the front are near the entrance gate, and I didn't particularly like the look of the houses right outside the gate.

Nevertheless, I decide to get one of the sites. The Philipino owner curtly fills out the requisite forms in triplicate. I decide, partially based on past experiences with others from the Philipines (send your letters to abuse[at]tolstoy[dot]com), that it's not so much that he's rude, it's just his way. I was originally thinking he was an asshole, and I was considering not giving him my bidness. But, after coming to that realization, I go ahead with the transaction. Only afterwards does he go into the thing about the restrooms.

You see, a lady was almost raped at another nearby campground's restrooms. And, since he's near the freeway, people occasionally stop by to use his facilities. The restrooms there are now equipped with touchpad entry locks, and as an official KOA guest I am given their combination. OK, OK, when I use the restroom I'll be sure and close the door behind me. Fine, let me set up the tent and sack out.

Which I proceeded to do. I'd just put in all three poles in the tent body when, looking for the best place to locate the tent, I noticed something out of place. There were several pellets mixed in with the gravel of my new tent site. Now, I realize that hares or rabbits haven't so far been implicated as Hanta virus carriers; that's been restricted to a few species of mice and one species of rat. Nevertheless, they are rodents and I don't want to get sick. So, I decided to cancel my stay there.

Thankfully, the owner was making the rounds of the place, shining his flashlight under the RVs parked there. He was wearing a bandana, and I couldn't tell whether it was him or some very bold RV burglar. It turned out to be him, and he agreed to cancel me out. It appears that, aside from not sweeping the (most likely generally unused) tent sites, he's a Lordsburg resident who's doing the best with what he's got.

After that brief waste of time, I began looking for a motel, and I stayed at the Budget Motel on their I10 loop for $25. It wasn't that bad at that price.

In the morning I took a tour of the town. Lordsburg looks like a stereotypical southwest town on the extreme decline. The ghost town of Shakespeare is located a few miles south of Lordsburg. It's only open to the public a few days a month, and that wasn't one of the days. Even though I didn't see Shakespeare, I'd imagine that in places Lordsburg and Shakespeare look similar.

A business loop of the I10 runs through the town. Their business loop is about the same length as that of Fort Stockton. However, the business loop in Fort Stockton has a large number of motels ("Over 900 motel rooms!" their touron information tells us) as well as a fair supply of fast food restaurants. Lordsburg has a smaller number of motels and associated businesses, and many of them are boarded-up. In certain sections, 1/3 of them appeared to have been patiently awaiting renovation for many years. Only the parts directly off the freeway have a few chain motels and fast food stores.

There's only a small section of the main drag that isn't boarded up. In that section, I stopped in an antique store. Apparently a local burgher had purchased a couple of blocks there and is in the process of fixing them up. Unfortunately, he spends his weekends in Tucson, so he wasn't available for an interview.

The young lady at the gas station had a nice face, but she was a bit stocky bodily. Plus, she failed the Lonewacko TQ (touron quotient) test. She wasn't able to give me a detailed explanation of why Lordsburg had a museum or a historic area. Plus, she was too young and, after I started to hear her discussing local gossip with someone else, I quickly rejected that idea.

"But, Lonewacko, you should have spent more time there. Done a photo essay. Interviewed lots of people, found out why they kept on hangin' on in the boarded-up town. Then, you might have something blog-worthy. A photo essay on residents of an incipient ghost town would make this blog worth reading!"

Listen, m*$%^#$%@#($%, if you want a f*$((#& photo essay, you get off your f#(@)($ a*$ and drive to f@#)$(# Lordsburg yourself. I'm f*$(#($ sick of this s#*@. I drive all the f#*@**# way from L.A. to Maine and back, and all you b(#@#*#@ can do is whine like a b*$#*. F#@@ you, m$#(@(#$(##(s.

Posted at 11:45 PM | Comments (1)

[Insert El Paso summary here]

After my hike at Hueco Tanks on December 5, I drove out of El Paso along the Trans-Mountain Highway. I already posted some of my thoughts on El Paso here, and I hereby promise you a more complete treatment at a later date.

On the way out of town, I paid a visit to the El Paso Archaeological Society's museum. It's rather small but it's somewhat informative. Unlike me, the lady there thinks Kennewick Man is an Asian. To each his own. The mannequins there are almost nekkid. Sure, some have loincloths on, but some are fully nude for all the world to see. Lonewacko Jr. jumped a bit when he saw a hottie mannequin on her knees grinding masa, so I escorted him out of the museum tout de suite.

Outside the museum is Wilderness Park. I hadn't read the brochure that carefully, because I thought it was a zoo like the Living Desert State Park outside Carlsbad. However, it was basically just a small cactus garden.

Next door to the archaeology museum is the National Border Patrol Museum, which was one of the places I had on my El Paso shortlist. I could have safely passed it by however. It's kind of rundown and antiquated, and not in a good way. Some might consider it a funky tourist destination, but I just thought it was a bit dumpy. They're independent and not affiliated with the Border Patrol itself, so they refused to discuss border issues with me. If they knew anything about the wider context of immigration policy, they kept it to themselves. They were mainly a cop museum, and not a site dealing with the wider issue of immigration.

And, like I said, stay tuned for an El Paso summary in a day or so.

Posted at 11:19 PM | Comments (1)

The other Hueco

I spent the night of December 4th in the campground at Hueco Tanks State Park outside El Paso. The temperature was above freezing, and initially I hadn't set up the rain fly. However, around 10pm suddenly the wind came in with a vengeance, making it quite cold and most likely in the 20s with the wind chill. I put up the rain fly and spent the night hearing the flapping of the tent. In the morning, I took the Pictograph tour, which was quite interesting. The tour was lead by the park's superintendent who, strangely enough, had a Radio Voice Like Me.

Unfortunately, the other four members of the tour were housewives who had apparently never walked on rocks before, and they slowed it down a bit. If my fellow tourons had had a bit more experience, perhaps the tour might have been able to take in more places. Nevertheless, I saw several ancient pictographs, as well as some from when this was a stop on the Butterfield stage in the late 1800s. Unfortunately, there was also some graffitti of a more recent vintage. After being on the rock for a few years, the graffitti becomes more or less part of the rock and can't be removed. Because of things like that, they now make campers there sit through a 20-minute video giving background information on the park, but also telling you all the things not to do.

After taking the pictograph tour, I took their chain trail up and over the North Mountain. I didn't need the chains, but I guess if you were carrying lots of stuff it might be useful. Then I headed across the rocks, spending time looking for a way off the rock that didn't involve rappeling. After making a few trips to the edge, I finally found a way off the rock. The North Mountain is the only one of the four mountains there that has full access, and it's somewhat similar to Stoney Point, albeit with a foot print a few times larger.

The name "Hueco Tanks" refers to hollows (the Spanish meaning of "hueco") in the rocks which contains collected rain water. One is pictured in the second picture above. They've been used as a water source in the area for thousands of years, and those who've stopped there have left the various pictographs on the rocks. I saw several huecos along the way, some of which were filled with water. The name "Waco" is apparently derived from the "Waco Indians," and their name may be derived from "hueco."

Most of the rock climbers there were boulderers, and I didn't see anyone with top ropes set up, so I decided to move on.

Fort Bowie, which will be covered in this post, was another stop on the Butterfield stage.

Posted at 10:53 PM | Comments (0)

What you drive through on the way to the Carlsbad Caverns

On the way to Carlsbad Caverns, you drive through White's City. It's a small tourist trap with a motel, gas station, museum, etc. I didn't visit the "Million Dollar Museum" as it's already been done.

The above shot was taken on the way to the city of Carlsbad, not to the caverns. Specifically, just over the New Mexico state line north of Orla.

To get to the caverns from Carlsbad I took a different route. Consult a map if you're confused. You see, it's a bit like an "A", with the city of Carlsbad at the top of the "A" and with White's City at the midpoint of the left line of the "A" (marked as b' on the figure, and otherwise known as 62/180). The right line of the "A" is the highway from Pecos to Carlsbad, specifically 285. The horizontal crosspiece of the "A" (marked c' in the figure) is a back road ("Black River Village Road") the cuts between 285 south of Carlsbad and White's City. Like I said, this would be much easier if you had a map in front of you.

Posted at 10:14 PM | Comments (0)

Behind the scenes at the Lonewacko Blog

Driving from Fort Stockton, Texas to Carlsbad, New Mexico with his tape recorder in his hand, blogging superstar "Lonewacko" tries to write the Great American Road Novel. This transcript - taken direct and unedited from the Lonewacko tape recorder - shows the blogging legend at work:

"shocked around the bend and see two giant mobile homes, two huge wide loads coming straight at you several feet into your lane.
The asphalt creates a lake that evaporates and disappears as you approach, only to reappear further on down the road. Cars coming at you appear to have undercarriage lights as their chrome reflects in the sunlight. It's hard to tell distances and it's hard to tell whether the car coming straight at you is in your lane or not. The reflection of the cars in the distance makes them look like boats on a lake. As the semi-trucks get closer all apparitions have disappeared, and the truck is there just like it would be on a freeway. Except the truck is driving 70 miles per hour and just feet to your left. The truck passes and so does the danger, however, to leave you a momento of your meeting, the truck's wake slams into your car and forces you to turn the wheel a bit to correct.

Suddenly the top of a tractor trailer or a moterhome rises over the next bump in the road. Slowly but steadily rises over the next bump.

In parts, water across the road forms a serious of strems whcih evaporate together like gates lifting. Tires of the semi-trucks reflect the water underneath them. Chrome shimmers in the heat."

Posted at 10:02 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko drives from Fort Stockton Texas to Carlsbad New Mexico

A couple weeks ago I drove to Carlsbad, NM starting from Fort Stockton, TX. Fort Stockton is a dumpy, disheveled hole which isn't that bad a place to spend a night, except it doesn't have a Wendy's nor a Hardee's/Carl's Jr. I had a bit of a problem at the Wal*Mart there, and, if not for the fact that it's the only Wal*Mart for untold miles, I'd suggest you avoid shopping there.

On my way to Alpine, I had stocked up in the FS Wal*Mart, spending in excess of $28. At the time I was wearing my backpack, and no one said a word about it as I was spending my hard-earned blogging dinero.

A couple days later I went back, and I was told by the "greeter" and her supervisor that I couldn't wear my backpack in the store. They seemed to like my money good enough before. In protest of this ever-changing policy, I immediately went out to my car and returned as much of the stuff as I could. I even went back with a second load later.

On the way to Carlsbad, I drove through Pecos, which is about 20% larger than Fort Stockton and about 30% more run-down. I saw a few places with smashed windows, and I hadn't seen anything like that in Fort Stockton. The girl who was trying to sell Avon products was cute, but her and her high-heeled tennis shoes were a bit too young and it looked like she was driving a family van, so I didn't even make an attempt when I met her outside Pecos' museum. I didn't have a second thought about it when I accidently met her again at a gas stations blocks from there. I had gone to the gas station by chance. While getting into my car outside the closed museum, I had seen a cop car go by. Then, a half a minute later, what looked like an unmarked cop car went the same way. Thinking something was up, I followed the unmarked car, but I lost it somewhere near the freeway. So, turn to someone else for the Pecos crime blotter.

Overall, Pecos looks like a good place to just drive through. On my way to doing that, I decided to stop at the local McDonalds. The girl at the drive through had a cold and, after thinking about it for a bit, I decided to go inside and return it. The men's room was out of soap, so I was forced to use some of my precious hand sanitizer.

There was no "McDonald's" under the large double-arches outside, just a big empty space. Perhaps it had been stolen or had fallen off.

Standing beside the counter was my old friend Ronald McDonald. However, he looked a bit different from his usual trademarked self. Specifically, the styrofoam figurine had strange white lines and pockmarks on his orange suit. Upon closer inspection, it turned out not to be a new design. It looked like Ronald had been run over or otherwise abraded.

Posted at 09:59 PM | Comments (0)

The Robert Hilburn Interview: Lonewacko Jr.

Lonewacko and Lonewacko Jr. recently visited El Paso as part of their Blogging Across America tour. I interviewed the junior member of the team in a cheap motel at an undisclosed location a day's drive from their home base in Los Angeles. Lonewacko Jr. entered the room dressed in a white sweatshirt, and we began the interview...

Robert Hilburn: There was much expectation and ensuing speculation regarding your recent visit to El Paso. Que pasa?

Lonewacko Jr.: When Lonewacko first told me we were going to El Paso, I was quite, er, excited. In fact, I haven't been this excited since we visited northern Maine. Of course, I'd rather visit Brazil, or Quebec, or Bangkok, but El Paso definitely sounded interesting...

RH: So, did you, you know?

LWJ: No, not even close.

RH: Oh.

LWJ: Yes, same thing I said. [laughs]

RH: Did you get close?

LWJ: No, not really. Lonewacko kept eyeballing the young lady at the Kinko's, but he never even talked to her. He chatted a bit with a lady who seemed to be some kind of regional gas station manager, but nothing came of that either. He chatted with a lady in a gas station in Ocotillo, but nothing came of that either...

RH: So, did Lonewacko try to meet Tejanas in some venue other than gas stations?

LWJ: Oh boy did he try. It's just that there aren't really places. He took me to the Barnes & Noble one night, but it was mostly teenies. He only thought of the UTEP library the day before we left, and we never went there. It's not like there's an infrastructure, you know?

RH: So what did you and Lonewacko do? Just watch telenovelas with the sound off?

LWJ: [laughs] Yep, that's about what it came to.

RH: Thank you for your time, Lonewacko Jr.

-- Robert Hilburn is the L.A. Times' Pop Music and Blog Critic.

Posted at 04:21 PM | Comments (0)

The Organ Mountains

No jokes now, they actually look pretty interesting. They're on BLM land next to the White Sands Missile Range. I spent a bit of time and fuel driving off the highway six miles to the campground in search of information and perhaps a short hike. The only two described hikes were too long to do that late and there was no one else around except an older camper.

So, I continued on. Las Cruces looks slightly interesting, and might warrant a future visit. But, I wanted to get to El Paso, so I didn't stay long.

Posted at 01:08 PM | Comments (1)

That explains everything!

A shot from the White Sands Missile Range museum.

The plaque says "This spacecraft was a section of the Voyager Balloon System which was launched near Roswell, NM and landed on WSMR... These bright, shiny aeroshells projected an illusion of flying saucers."

What is it they want us to believe? That all those UFO sightings were actually caused by either this thing or one of those "weather balloons?" Or, is something more subtle at play here? Do they want us to dismiss the first explanation, in an attempt to hide the even more hideous truth?

Posted at 01:04 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko of Arabia

When I visited Waco, I avoided making the obvious pun. So, to make up for that, the title of this post.

The above shots were taken at the White Sands National Monument, which is located between Alamogordo and Las Cruces, NM.

Driving along the road into the heart of the dunes is certainly an interesting experience. It's somewhat reminiscent of Ice Station Zebra, but with sand instead of snow.

I decided to take the Alkali Flats trail, which is a 4.6 mile loop through the dunes. I saw people at the beginning of the trail and at the end, but in the vast middle section I only saw one other person briefly off in the distance. At least I think it was someone else.

The Alkali Flats trail isn't really a trail, just a series of posts with red tops, designed to help you avoid walking in circles. That would certainly be somewhat easy to do, given the fact that the area is flat and, unless you took your bearings using the mountain ranges available on either side, you might easily get lost. If you were to get lost out here, in addition to just walking in circles, you'd also need to worry about walking in a straight line and never seeing that the road was this way or that.

After about three miles of the trail, I was really getting tired of it. The monotony of going up one dune and down the next and between the next was the worst part of the hike. But, then again it was also the best part of the hike. After a couple hours of doing this, it became a bit - pardon me - zen-like. Or something mystical like that.

There are things to see along the way, such as the "pedestal" in the last photo. That's about 20' high, and sheltered inside a depression created by a dune. There are also the crusts like that shown in the second photo. And, if I had done this at the start or end of the day or at night, I probably would have seen a few animals, however small.

Unlike any other hike I've taken on this trip, this hike had no goal to get to. There's nothing at the farthest point of the loop except an alkali flat. No mountain summit here. Just one flat area or sand dune after another.

At the beginning of the hike I kick-stepped and switch-backed up a few sand dunes. I soon got tired of that, as there were many sand dunes ahead, and I certainly couldn't expend the energy necessary to go up and down each one. Instead I began following the markers and adjusting to the monotony.

UPDATE: As mentioned in this post, I had some problems with my hiking poles both here and on Guadalupe Peak. The poles were somewhat helpful here because I replaced the baskets they come with with snow baskets. Yes, when one is hiking in Touron Country that causes ijits to utter for the 1,000,000th time "where's the snow?" My response to that is simple: it's part of my probation agreement. If I used the poles without baskets, they'd make quite an efficient spear. I certainly don't want my PO to see me without baskets on my poles now then, do I?

Posted at 12:58 PM | Comments (0)

"I've had this conversation a few times before..."

[Post summary: Stay away from Alamogordo, NM. Just drive right through it. Don't stop. Don't buy anything. If you can find a way to make them spend money instead of the other way around, do it.]

"Say, do you have any demographic, er, musings on Alamogordo?"

"No"

"I mean, where did those people come from? Have they moved there from other states?"

"I get the feeling most of them are people who've been there for a long time."

"Well, I kinda got the feeling that a lot of them were from Oklahoma, or Appalachia, or the Deep South."

"I hadn't noticed that..."

"I mean, a lot of them seem to be hicks. No offense to hicks, that is. But, a lot of the Alamogordo residents seem to be hicks, and not the good kind."

"Well, I haven't had too many good experiences there..."

"Any idea why? Is it going through an economic downturn or something?"

"I don't know, but you aren't the first person to notice something wrong about the place. I've only been here a few months, but I've had similar conversations before."

Unfortunately, that conversation took place just as I was leaving the fine town of Alamogordo, New Mexico. This was after I'd spent a couple days and some of my money there. I had a bad experience the first day, and a bad experience the second. On the third day, I decided to get out of there as fast as possible before something else happened.

I first drove into Alamogordo along the scenic US82. It would have been a bit more scenic if I'd driven it earlier in the day. As it was, I drove through the areas with the highest concentration of highway-crossing deer at twilight, and by the time I got to the even more scenic parts it was dark.

I soon set to finding a place to spend the night. The former KOA campground on 24th looked like it would OK in an extreme pinch, except it was a bit more expensive than one might hope, and it was basically just an open, semi-grassy area divided into demarcated tent sites. Plus, there was no dataport, just an antiquated pay phone.

I began looking for something else, when suddenly I heard a snap and everything got blurry...

The frame of my glasses had broke, and it didn't look like something I could fix myself. I began frantically calling jewelers and optical shops until I found someone who seemed like they could help me. Which was quite lucky, considering it was after 6pm on a Saturday.

I'm not going to bore you with the whole long story. Let's just say I thought I was going to pay $30 to have my old lenses put in a new frame, but when I got the bill it was for $40. I felt like I'd been baited and switched. Perhaps I had been, or perhaps it had been me who'd made the mistake. Although, I'm very doubtful about the latter. After a bit of disagreeable back and forth, I ended up paying the $30, otherwise I'd currently still be in New Mexico awaiting my day in Small Claims Court.

The next day, I had an unfortunate incident in the local Wal*Mart. I'm not going to go into that at all.

But: if you trust me - and you should - it is my personal recommendation that you avoid Alamogordo entirely. Especially avoid eyeglass-related shops there. Especially avoid the Wal*Mart there. Trust me on this one.

On the other hand, if burning Harry Potter books - alongside those of William Shakespeare - is your thing, please move there.

Posted at 12:39 AM | Comments (0)

Carlsbad Caverns

Like Guadalupe Peak (see the previous entry), I'd wanted to visit the Caverns for a few years. I read up on them and seen the pictures, and I was ready for my first trip underground. Since I'd done the Caverns of Sonora a few days earlier, it wasn't an entirely new experience. However, the sheer size of the Carlsbad Caverns was quite different from those in Sonora.

I visited them twice. The first day I took the Natural Entrance and then took the loop around the Big Room. Yes, I did see a lot of things and read several of the plaques, but I also tried to do it fairly quickly. It took a little over an hour, which included me slowly jogging parts of the path. Part of that was also, to be honest, to show that I didn't have many worries about being 800' or so below the surface with uncountable tons of earth above my head.

Unfortunately, I didn't take any pictures that day or bring along my headlamp so I could look into dark corners. I really should have.

My first visit was on a weekday. My next visit was on the Friday after Thanksgiving.

Trying to take pictures or have other quiet moments on the second day was quite difficult, as the place was packed. I'd set down the tripod, only to see yet another human wave headed my way down the narrow path. Lift tripod, wait, place tripod, see wave, repeat.

Shortly after the last human wave crashed on my shoreline, the ranger came by "sweeping" all of us tourons in front of her. So, trying to get a respite between the last elevator down and the sweeping ranger is not going to work. Better to visit on a weekday morning I guess.

Seemingly every possible photo of the Caverns has been taken, but the ceiling might be more neglected than others, so I tried to take some shots of it. It's a bit difficult because of the lighting: in the few shots I was able to try, there was always one part of the shot that was brighter than others. The above shot should just be considered a failed attempt.

Posted at 12:28 AM | Comments (0)

The top of Texas

I hiked up Guadalupe Peak - the highest point in Texas at 8749' - on Thanksgiving day. In keeping with the Lonewacko ethos, it was a solo hike.

I felt very good about getting to the top of this peak. I've wanted to come here for about three years, but one thing or another would keep me away. I'd book a flight, then cancel it a week later. When I set out in the morning from Carlsbad, I was concerned about the wind, and I was thinking I might only go up part way and then turn around. But, by just putting one foot in front of the other several hundred times, I made it to the top.

It took a bit under 3 hours up and a bit under 2 hours down. There were several other parties on the trail, and I was joined on the summit by a large group of college-aged hikers (who I passed on the way up...), a couple, and another soloist.

My pack weighed around 20 lbs., over half of it liquid refreshment. I carried 3L of water and 2L of Gatorade. I drank 1.5L of the water and 1L of the Gatorade getting to the top, and the rest coming down and on the drive away. That was a lot more than I needed, but better safe than sorry.

When I left Carlsbad in the morning, the wind was quite heavy, but it was a lot lighter in the Park, and it was never an issue on the hike, although it did make it a bit chilly. The summit itself was actually somewhat warm.

Many of the others who climb this peak seem to come from El Paso. I came from the other direction, so my first good view of El Capitan was from the summit of Guadalupe Peak. It was quite impressive, especially since I hadn't seen it from below first.

There's no real exposure anywhere on the hike, unless you walked off (or were blown off) the trail. The trail and the surroundings remind me a bit of terrain at the lower levels of the San Gabriels or San Jacinto Peak.

A minor complication occured when one of my hiking poles failed: the lower section collapsed, and I couldn't get it to tighten back up. Oh well, I'll just use one pole, switching it from hand to hand every once in a while. That worked for a bit until I went to lengthen the pole that still worked: I couldn't get it to tighten up either. I had had a problem with these poles before, but in the opposite direction. The lower section was stuck in there, and not even putting it in a vise and trying to turn it with a wrench worked. REI had just replaced both lower sections at that time. I'm sure they'll replace these poles as well, but I might just trade up to something that's hopefully a bit better. BTW, these are REI/Komperdell Traverse poles.

Wackily enough, the poles later worked for my hike in the White Sands National Monument (more later, you know the drill by now), but then failed near the end of that hike...

Since I got Mount Livermore and Baldy Peak earlier, I now have the #1, #5, and #7 highest named peaks in Texas. (Don't laugh, it's an interesting state.) Numbers 2, 3, and 4 are also in Guadalupe Mountains National Park, but, since two of the three require cross-country travel and at least an overnight, I decided to return and get them when there are more of me.

Posted at 11:52 PM | Comments (1)

What to do in Alpine, Texas

Alpine is a somewhat interesting small town pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Or, at least 60 miles from the I10, and about 100 miles from the real middle of nowhere, Big Bend National Park. Unfortunately, I never made it to Big Bend, but I did spend some time in Alpine. I'll save my description of the town for a later post, but for now:

I stayed one night at the Pecan Grove RV Park. It's right in Alpine, which is a lot more convenient than the next tent camping area at the Davis Mountains State Park, twenty or so miles from any services. I camped in a repurposed RV spot, camping as far away from the sewer line as possible. There were no trees between me and the RVs, but at least it was fairly cheap. I used the Boingo WiFi access at the Lost Alaskan RV park, which is on the edge of town. When I got there, the office was closed and no one else was around. So, I put on a couple layers, set up the computer on a table outside the office and went to it. This was the strangest yet Boingo location, but it worked and it was quite surprising to find a WAP away out here in the middle of mostly nothing.

I visited the McDonald Observatory, which is located outside Fort Davis. It's got a pretty good view there, and they hold Star Parties there on a regular basis. The Star Parties let you view the nighttime sky through telescopes, but unfortunately you can't use the two large research telescopes. They do, however, let the general public look through the research telescopes occasionally, but you need to reserve months in advance according to their brochure.

More later...

Posted at 11:32 PM | Comments (0)

Mitre Peak

When I first drove into Alpine, I noticed a quite impressive pyramid-shaped peak rising out of the desert. It was visible starting a few miles from Alpine along 67.

On my way to visit Davis Mountain State Park (see the previous entry. Confusing, eh?), about 10 miles outside of Alpine, I turned onto Mitre Peak Road which seemed like it would lead to the base of the peak.

Indeed it did. However, the presence of barbed wire fences indicated that this wasn't public land. I asked at the neighboring Mitre Peak Camp (a Girl Scout camp) if it was possible to climb it. The Camp didn't own the peak, it was owned by an out of town rancher. The peak is 6100', and it appears rough from both the front and the back.

Apparently, there have been problems with people running into problems when trying to climb it. If you take the right route it (supposedly) doesn't require ropes. But, one party took over 12 hours to get up and down, and another party had to be airlifted from the top.

After that, the owner apparently decided to disallow access. In any other western state, there's a fair chance that this peak would be on Forest Service or BLM land. However, there is almost no public land in Texas. Other than Texas' state parks, various city parks, and a few National Parks, everything is privately owned.

The map in the BLM office in Carlsbad was quite striking. Splotches of color showed BLM and FS presence throughout Utah, New Mexico, Nevada, and California. Nevada was almost all salmon pink. Whereas Texas was almost all white, with the exception of the National Parks.

I might have more to say about this subject later, but for now I'm still trying to decide which is worse: the taking of rights or property by a government agency, or private land owners being allowed to hog things like Mitre Peak all to themselves.

Apparently there's a land rights proponent in Alpine who is continually writing letters to the editor in opposition to The Nature Conservancy; I have her phone number and perhaps I'll do a spot of real reporting at a later date.

Posted at 12:09 AM | Comments (8)

Mt. Livermore and Baldy Peak

On November 21, I drove through Alpine, Texas (of which more later), bound for Davis Mountain State Park. The park didn't seem that very interesting, but then again I didn't do anything other than stop at the visitor's center. It's divided into two parts: a developed area with some campsites, and a primitive area across the highway. I asked the ranger if the highest point in their county was in the park, and it turned out that it wasn't even close: their highest point was about 6000', but the highest point in the county was Baldy Peak at 8378'. Baldy is set atop Mount Livermore, which is considered its own summit.

I was informed that Baldy Peak was on land owned by the Nature Conservancy. They had an office just down the road in Fort Davis. Luckily, Luckily, and thanks to the kind folks at that TNC office, I was able to join an excursion for the next day.

It was almost too easy. After arriving at the TNC property, I followed two other cars up the rough dirt road for a few miles. Then, when we came to a patch that my car couldn't handle, I parked and then got a lift in one of the other cars.

We parked a down the road from the summit. The two other groups went their own ways, and I set off for the summit alone.

It ended up being a hike of just 3 miles RT with about 1000' of gain, almost all of it on a rough fire roads, parts of which were a bit steep. It took two hours total, with 15-30 minutes up top. Getting to the top is a lot easier than the first photo might imply.

On the opposite side it just involves a short easy stretch of 3rd class. The only exposure would come if you got off route, which might be possible if you don't take note of the way you came up.

Posted at 10:37 PM | Comments (0)

Touring the forts

On the way to Fort Stockton, I decided to stop at Fort Lancaster State Park, which houses a fort used to defend against Comanche raids and protect travelers from San Antonio to El Paso. That's located on a 20 or so mile bypass highway that runs from the 10, through the dumpy town of Sheffield, and back to the 10. Before Sheffield, I rounded a bend and saw my first glimpse of how this part of Texas is not in anyway like the areas around Dallas, Austin or San Antonio. There in front of me was a gully a few hundred feet high. Certainly, even some of the gullies in the Verdugos are deeper, but this was a bit of a shock. The road runs around the lip of the gully, and I was thinking it would a chance for some good, quick exercise to climb from the fort to the road and back. However, the gully - like most of the land in Texas - is privately owned, and that wasn't possible.

The fort is fairly interesting, despite the fact that all of the buildings are now just rubble. The plaques discussed how lonely and boring it was to be stationed out here. It'd be boring and lonely even today, and one can only imagine what it would be like over a hundred years ago.

Posted at 10:24 PM | Comments (0)

The Caverns of Sonora

On November 19 I found myself driving through Sonora Texas, and I decided to take a tour of the Caverns of Sonora. I'd never been in a cave before. I was under an overhang in Missouri, but that's not the same thing. I've wanted to climb Guadalupe Peak - TX's highest point - for a few years, and in preparation I'd read up on the nearby Carlsbad Caverns. They seemed quite interesting, but at the same time I was worried about claustrophobia. Also, I was worried about earthquakes. Most people, myself included, who've lived in Los Angeles for a while become accustomed to earthquakes and become even blase about them. However, the last thing I want is to experience an earthquake underground. So, even if an area doesn't have active faults, I was thinking that would be something I'd be constantly worried about. In the Navy, those who volunteer for submarine duty are subjected to various tests to determine that they won't freak out underwater; I don't think I'd make the grade.

Despite that, I didn't sense any concern when descending into the cave. Perhaps that's because it was mainly a walk along a concrete path with a few stairs here and there. I felt quite safe, like I was in an underground mall rather than in natural formation. Whether I'd have the same feeling in a wild cave that didn't have any light fixtures on the walls is another matter entirely.

As for the caverns, they were certainly interesting, although having never been in a cave before, I don't have anything to compare them with. They don't appear to be as deep as the various caves in Carlsbad, but they certainly are attractive. They have the only known butterfly formation, which can be seen in the left photo here.

This was a guided tour with just me and an expatriot British couple and their baby. The baby would occasionally cry, which was not exactly the best situation, but I was able to enjoy the 1 or 2 mile walk nonetheless.

There's an above-ground gift shop and flyers for the cave are available in motels, restaurants, and all the other places in the area. In keeping with that theme, I thought this was just a tourist trap and that the guide was just a relative or something. However, it turned out that he was an avid and experienced caver, and he provided me with much useful information. So, if you're in the area, I'd suggest checking it out.

Posted at 11:39 PM | Comments (1)

Fuck the rock

After S.A., I was going to go to Enchanted Rock State Park, which is located in Texas' "Hill" Country north of Fredericksburg. The greatest elevation hike there is 400' to the top of the rock, and that appears to be the most difficult hike within hours of Austin, Dallas, or San Antonio. Just for comparison, the tourist trail that goes from the Griffith Park Observatory to Mount Hollywood has a gain of about 500', and that's one of the easiest hikes in Los Angeles unless you walk along the seashore.

I drove into Fredericksburg just as it was getting dark. I decided against driving up to the park to find a camping spot, because this is its busy time of year, no one answered their phone, and it was a 40 mile round trip.

Fredericksburg is a bit like the dumpy, Texas equivalent of Solvang, but with a German theme instead of Dutch. The local supermarket looked a bit more upper scale than usual, and it had a few well-dressed members of the hilled gentry doing their shopping. A few people there, including those at the local Subway, and a dumpy local gas station looked at me even more strangely than usual; perhaps they aren't used to hiker-types or something. The Subway had a sign "Restrooms for customers only." I was considering being a customer when I walked in and used the restroom; when I exited the facilities and got a strange look from the guy behind the counter, I decided not to be a customer. Nevertheless, I let him put on his plastic gloves and looked at the menu a but while I conducted one of my usual interrogations. Then, after noticing that their prices were about 10% higher than Subways elsewhere I excused myself. But before I left I milked a few questions out of him. I learned to my amused bemusement that Fredericksburg has its own racetrack. Strangely enough, there was a Nascar store in Wilmington, Delaware, but I hadn't seen too much Nascar stuff since I got into Texas. Had I finally found the Nascar culture in Texas? No, it was horse racing, with parimutual betting even.

Unfortunately, the Fredericksburg KOA was about to close, their tenting area was under renovation, and they didn't want after-hours tent campers. So, I looked for something else. Unfortunately, the Lady Bird Johnson City Park's tenting area was just a big bare field across an access road from a small group of RVs. It didn't look too safe or appetizing. I then drove to the Kerrville KOA, but it wasn't much better: the only camping area was separated from a small highway by a wooden fence. That KOA is basically just for RVs.

So, saying "fuck the rock," I kept driving and pulled into the Junction KOA 50 miles down the freeway. Their tenting area sounded good in KOA's brochure: tent sites right next to the Llano river. However, there was no night registration for those sites, and signs directed me to set up my tent in a field next to a basketball court to avoid disturbing those who had the foresight to register earlier. In the morning there was a layer of frost on the tent; I was lucky enough to experience that area's first frost of the season. The owner there seemed to be a bit sharper than other KOA owners, and suggested I check out the Caverns of Sonora, which will be covered in the next installment.

Somewhere before Junction I left the greenery of the past two-plus months behind, and entered the southwestern desert environment. I didn't notice it at night, but in the morning it was a bit of a shock. Since leaving Colorado in early September, I had been in areas with more or less abundant rainfall, and it was quite a change to be in the dry, high, wide-open desert of the Southwest. It wasn't an entirely unwelcome change. Even though it's nice to be surrounded with greenery, I felt a bit more at home here.

Posted at 11:38 PM | Comments (1)

Remember the Alamo

[I visited San Antonio on November 17, this entry is just catching up.]

I had trouble finding anyone who'd say anything bad about San Antonio. They'd say bad things about Houston or Dallas or Hobbs, NM, but not about S.A. And to a fairly good extent that's justified. It's a bit sleepy, and it's basically a small town surrounded by a humungous suburban ring and some Army and Air Force bases. However, it has its own charms and attractions. The city of S.A. actually has more people than the City of Dallas, however, the DFW googleplex is probably a few times larger, and it's definitely a lot busier.

S.A. has the River Walk, which is quite attractive, however, the part of the River Walk where all the stuff is unfortunately just a series of restaurants and bars. There aren't, for instance, book stores, or museums, or other free types of things. They haven't built a Wal*Mart down by the river yet, but it would be nice to have non-commercial areas. Despite all that, the River Walk is definitely worth seeing.

San Antonio is a Hispanic-majority city: 55% Hispanic, 35% white, 7% black. It's had that same proportions for a few decades; apparently there wasn't a white flight as in, say, Los Angeles. There doesn't appear to be the same degree of racial conflict as there is in Los Angeles either. I made a few attempts to compare and contrast the two cities by questioning a few people.

My comparing and contrasting invoked the ire of a worker at the Institute of Texan Cultures, which operates a museum showcasing each of the cultures who established Texas. He accused me of observer bias, finding conflicts because I'm expecting to find them. Well, no, it's just that I've lived in Los Angeles for many years. He attempted to leave me with a parting zinger. Unfortunately, the zinger ain't got no zing because I've forgotten what he said and I couldn't figure out what he was getting at when he said it.

According to the Institute's brochure, "[o]perating on the premise that people are stronger citizens when they know more about themselves and each other, the Institute provides a forum for understanding culture and history and symbolizes the state's strength in diversity." Despite that, the Museum isn't as bad as it sounds. But, perhaps that's not so much a matter of desire as the fact that they aren't competent enough to pull off the full Tranzi PC treatment. However, it doesn't appear there's a concerted State effort to make people get along. In L.A., one can imagine all the State propaganda which there is and will be to get people to stop shooting each other. But, apparently, that's not that necessary in S.A., although I didn't go into schools or government buildings to check that out.

In any case, the museum is a bit long in the tooth, as it was first created for the 1968 World's Fair. It isn't such a great place to see unless you're a decendent of one of the residents of Texas. The World's Fair was held in the HemisFair Plaza which is home not only to the Institute but to the Tower of the Americas. That rises 750' above the flatlands. The ribs of the tower look a bit like those on the Devil's Tower in Wyoming. Unfortunately, I would have had to pay $4 and, to add insult to injury, I couldn't take the stairs up, I had to take the elevator. I decided against it. If I'd waited until the next Saturday, I could have taken part in a race to the top during which you were allowed to use the stairs, but that was still a few days away.

The museum's only obviously objectionable exhibit was an oferta to people who had died from domestic violence. Needless to say, all the victims were women, and the perpetrators were men. There were several books there with anti-male titles. It had, however, been relegated to the basement.

In a few brief spins around S.A., I didn't see too many things reminiscent of the situation in L.A. For instance, in L.A. one can see wall murals saying things like "Who's the minority now?" Maybe there are things like that in S.A., but I didn't see them. People seem to get along. Rather than having surly, unassimilatable new "immigrants" and angry older immigrants, most of the residents have been there a while, and Tejanos fought alongside "Anglos" at the Alamo. According to a film at the Alamo's museum, Chicanos have held protests there. However, I was told I'd have to wait a long time for the next protest. According to a couple people, Mecha-style sentiments don't go over too well here; not too many people in S.A. want to be part of Mexico. I don't think Cruz Bustamante, Antonio Villaraigosa, and Gil Cedillo would be quite as popular there as they are in California. However, San Antonio does have its own version, state Senator Leticia Van de Putte.

One bit problem with S.A. is there don't appear to be too many small funky neighborhoods like you find in Chicago or L.A. Even Dallas has more distinct neighborhoods near the central core. The southside of S.A. is largely Hispanic, and the other areas are less so. Unlike L.A., there appear to be many middle class Hispanics in the suburbs. The suburbs are full of the standard assortment of fast food restaurants and big box stores; one can drive around the 410 loop and spot a Wal*Mart every few miles. However, my impression of S.A. as a small central core surrounded by featureless suburbs and military bases might be because the visitor center didn't have a good map.

I visited a few of the missions: Concepcion, San Jose, and San Juan. As in most of the rest of Texas, the people at the tourist information bureau were basically map distributors. They were helpful, but they really didn't know that much. The older guy with the white beard at the tourist booth in Ellsworth Maine was a former CSULA geography professor. He not only was on the same wavelength as I, he had traveled around Maine, and he knew what was going on. Many of the people who work at tourist booths in Texas and elsewhere are a) incapable of having their receivers even approach my wavelength, and b) don't exactly seem like inveterate explorers who want to find out what's around the next bend. Most of them aren't exactly the enquiring type. So, like I said, the ladies at the tourist booth wanted to help, but couldn't. They didn't even have a detailed street map, like I'd received in Dallas or Austin (the Dallas street map requires three hands to hold). The fact that I only had a detailed map of the downtown area and a large scale, one page map covering a twenty mile area worked against my attempts to find specific neighborhoods of interest.

S.A. is a little more rolling than Austin, and I even saw a 50', gently sloped bluff. In L.A., of course, one can see bluffs several times that, and areas like Mount Washington or the Hollywood Hills rising hundreds of feet from the surrounding areas. There are no big mountains, or even moderate hills anywhere near S.A.

I stopped in at the San Antonio River Authority, and tried to get information on any studies comparing our river with theirs, but the guy who does that was out to lunch. The south end of the river, down where the missions are, looks a bit more like the L.A. River, minus our river's omnipresent graffitti and garbage. I saw a few people at the Espada Dam picking up what small amount of trash there was. As in L.A., they hold a river cleanup each year, but I'd imagine that they take away a lot less than is taken away in L.A. Understandably, S.A. residents are more concerned about their river than Angelenos, some of whom don't even know there's an L.A. River or may never have seen it.

I saw several pretty, upper scale Tejanas, and despite the flatness of the area, I think this area deserves a deep, penetrating analysis, like the one I failed to do in Maine.

Posted at 11:27 PM | Comments (1)

Flyover Multiculturalists

caption: "Latin American Woman"

A typical European

While considering a trip to Houston, I began asking myself, "Is Houston truly a multicultural city? Does it celebrate its diversity every chance it gets?"

The answer came in the form of the glossy, 62-page 'Greater Houston Multi Cultural Guide' produced by the Greater Houston Convention and Visitors Bureau.

According to the 'LeTTER FRoM MaYOR' printed therein, "Houston is built on a tradition of diversity..."

According to the 'LeTTER FRoM CoUNTY JuDGE,' "On behalf of the citizens of Harris County, I welcome you to our colorful community... I hope you take some time to not only embrace your own culture, but experience one of the many others that thrive here... ...everywhere you look, we have incorporated diversity in all parts of life here... Faces of every color live, work and play here."

The rest of the brochure consists of various photos of their diverse, multicultural citizenry celebrating their diversity in a most multicultural way. The text is poorly written, perhaps because the author had a quota to fill. Seemingly each paragraph must contain at least one instance of either "multicultural" or "diverse."

After paging through the brochure, someone who's not familiar with Houston or the U.S. might wonder exactly where Houston is and who it belongs to. Is it some island country, where diverse peoples from multicultural backgrounds have come for their own personal or group-related reasons?

The brochure is divided into five sections: 'AFRiCA,' 'AMERiCAS & the iSLANDS,' 'ASiA & MiDDLE EaST,' 'EuROPE,' and 'OF GENERAL INTEREST.' Much like a zoo or Wild Safari might divide its brochure into sections depending on where their animals came from.

For this is basically a zoo brochure. One can simply observe these different cultures, or, like a petting zoo, one can actually interact with the different cultures. But, as a Patagonian Cavy and a Sumatran Tiger are put in separate cages, so too are Houston's diverse, multicultural population.

In the same way that Britney Spears imitators show just how bad she is, Houston's attempts to push multiculturalism show the abject bankruptcy of that ideology. If Los Angeles made a brochure like this, it would be much worse, but it would also be slicker and more subtle. Houston's brochure makes multiculturalism's flaws apparent to all.

The overall theme is one of separatism and division. There is nothing in the brochure about common goals or dreams. These are separate groups pursuing their own agendas.

There are a few American flags in the brochure, but America is presented as just another display. If I didn't see the words "Space City USA" I would wonder what country Houston is a part of.

Houston becomes not a melting pot of people from around the world, but a segregated display. Which is perhaps the way the town's elders want it.

Posted at 11:15 AM | Comments (0)

Your tax dollars at work, Part 2

[I visited the former Branch Davidian compound outside Waco on November 11, this entry is just catching up.]

Posted at 08:29 PM | Comments (0)

Wonderful Waco, Part 2

[I visited Waco on November 11, this entry is just catching up.]

After my bike ride, I went to the Cameron Park Zoo, which, for a smaller town, is much better than the zoo in Indy. Everything about this zoo was better, with the exception that they didn't have a polar bear. They had several interesting snakes, a couple of exotic turtles, a poisonous newt, a school of piranhas, and the interesting animals pictured above.

The first is a Capybara, the world's largest rodent, which can tip the scales at up to 150 pounds.

The next is a Patagonian Cavy. I found this to be a quite attractive animal. Some say it looks a bit like the mythical jackalope. Unfortunately, to get a good look at it one would need to see it standing up; it had sat down by the time I got my camera out.

The last is a Sumatran Tiger. 'Nuff said.

After the zoo, I drove past the Dr. Pepper Museum. I couldn't really remember what it tasted like, so I bought some at a gas station to refresh my memory. It's not that horribly bad, and I could have gotten some if I'd taken the museum's tour. But, most likely I would have had to pay money and spend time, and it wasn't that much of interest. But, don't feel bad Dr. Pepper, as back in West Virginia I had driven right past the Mountain Dew museum as well.

Then, I drove outside of Waco to the former Branch Davidian compound.

Posted at 08:23 PM | Comments (0)

Wonderful Waco, Part 1

[I visited Waco on November 11, this entry is just catching up.]

Mention "Waco," and you know what everyone thinks of. This is despite the fact that the Branch Davidian compound was actually located about a dozen miles outside Waco in Mount Carmel. If not for the regrettable incident that took place there so long ago, Waco would just be a small, sleepy farm city with Kansas-style wide, open streets. It makes a convenient highway stop as it's midway between Dallas and Austin. It's also home to the Baptist university Baylor.

I decided to skip a tour of Baylor, and concentrate on doing a bit of mountain biking, visiting the zoo, and taking some pictures at the compound which, surprisingly enough, had been razed to the ground just one month after the unfortunate incident had taken place.

I did the mountain biking in Cameron Park, which has some pretty interesting trails. The park is set along the Brazos River, and it rises to some small bluffs. The maximum elevation gain between the bottom and the top of the park is probably only 100 feet or so, however many of the trails are well beyond my technical skills.

Obviously, this is not the San Gabriels, but then again all the trails are single-track with nary a fire road in sight. Some of the trails are steep, and many are rocky or filled with tree roots. Some are marked on the map with double black diamonds; I don't doubt that that's accurate.

I started out in the Lover's Leap area, and biked down to the River Trail. I had to walk the bike down one section that was particularly steep. I kept biking until I got to a set of steep stairs. Thinking I could quickly regain some elevation, I carried the bike up the stairs which, given the occasional high rises and narrow steps and the fact that they were a bit slick, was a little difficult. When I got to the top, I found out that it was difficult to get from there back to my starting point, so I ended up carrying the bike back down the stairs. It's all good exercise, right? I biked back up the River Trail and went past the point where I came down. On the left were some interesting small cliff faces. Climbing them didn't look too appetizing; they looked like they'd melt in my hands. I returned back to the starting point mostly on the bike. Christian of txdb.net was there shooting a music video with some other Baylor students, and he was lucky enough to meet the Lonewacko.

Posted at 08:15 PM | Comments (1)

Someone here knows something...

[I visited Dallas around November 10; the shot above shows the Grassy Knoll.]

A couple blocks from Dealey Plaza is the Conspiracy Museum. Flyers for it are available at the visitor's center, which is almost unmarked. The museum has exhibits on JFK, as well as a UFO display in the basement. The guy there was taciturn and unfriendly. He let someone in from the Dallas Morning News in for free, and I asked him if there was free admission for media members. He didn't answer that question, but apparently a lot of newsies and celebrities have been there. The only one he could name was Richard Belzer.

I decided not to enter for various reasons but mostly because it cost $7. And, to be truthful, all of my dollar bills were from change I'd gotten after getting cash-back somewhere, and, well... The museum appears to be for real, at least on the surface. I got a kind of creepy feeling from the museum. I'm not saying nothin', but, what better way could there be to keep tab on strange people who hold unconventional views than by starting a museum?

I decided not to go to the more official Sixth Floor Museum (official site: jfk.org), despite the fact that it's the "Most Visited Historic Site in North Texas." It cost too much, and you couldn't shoot pictures due to fears about copyright infringement. Does that even include shooting through the famous 6th floor window? Yes it does. They occasionally give permission to the real media, however.

Say, did you know that no one - not even the most famous U.S. sniper - was able to duplicate Lee Harvey Oswald's three shots in 5.6 seconds? I'm not sayin' nothin', just linking.

Posted at 07:35 PM | Comments (0)

Old timey Dallas

[I visited Dallas around November 10, this entry is just catching up.]

I rode the streetcar a bit through The Historic Uptown Section of Dallas. Apparently, this used to be a rundown section of the city until a group of civic-minded folks (no doubt including real estate developers) decided to revive the streetcars. Since then, property values have skyrocketed, downtown commuters have moved in, and new buildings and shopping centers have been built.

This is apparently in line with Dallasites' obsession with improvement. Nothing can be left well enough alone, it must be cleaned up and, when necessary, old buildings must be torn down to make way for the new.

One of the streetcar workers (not the gent above) reiterated what I had heard before: in order to find King of the Hill-type settings and people, I need to go looking for pockets. He indicated a few places to look, but I just might head south to Waco or Austin instead and leave that to other KOTH fans. He also gave a good impersonation of Hank Hill, and mentioned that he, like Hank and friends, used to hang out in an alley and drink beer in those same areas.

I didn't even bother to try to connect to the wireless at The Mansion On Turtle Creek. While I was able to impersonate a guest at the Irving Holiday Inn Select, I think I'd be spotted immediately for the indigent that I am at that place.

Posted at 10:32 PM | Comments (0)

Trying to get high in Dallas

[I visited Dallas around November 10, this entry is just catching up.]

There are nice people in Dallas, and there are also assholes. Just like any other big city. Some of the assholes here however have a particular talent for soul-sucking. One would wish to pay actual money not to have run into these people. Unlike the assholes in Indy, who weren't quite adept, the assholes of the Big D seem to have the knack. As if Dallas was a Mecca for soul-sucking assholes.

So, anyway, on a completely different topic, I went in search of some place in Dallas where there's some elevation gain. I had to stay there until Monday, and I might as well give it a chance. It's just that betwen trying to get some work done, and the general process of having to go one place and then another, driving 10 miles this way and 10 miles that, it's a bit difficult. I never thought I'd see a place more sprawled all over the countryside than L.A., but DFW is indeed that place.

So, I tried to find a place where I could find some elevation change. Based on beta supplied by two separate people, I went to the Camp Wisdom Boy Scout camp.

There was no one at the front office of the camp, so I started wandering around until I found a building a short distance from the office where I thought someone might be. It looked empty until I got closer and saw seated heads inside. Someone apparently saw my approach, and unlocked a door near me. He got a little too close to my face for comfort and then backed down after I asked about public access and then was told that there was no such thing there. He told me that, contrary to what I'd heard, there were no rocks or much elevation gain there.

Perhaps I'd interrupted an indoctrination meeting of some kind. The mock highway sign on the way to the camp said "Character under construction." Inside the camp house there were hunting magazines advertising the Charlton Heston Saturday Night Special, or some such. There was also a sign "Free! Take One!" over a full stack of H. Ross Perot books.

Then I went to Ceder Hill State Park. The trails were closed for both hiking and biking due to recent rain. The toad-like gent at the gate wasn't any help at all. The answer to my question about the highest elevation in the park was answered with: "5280'." Ha ha, boy was that funny. I asked to see a ranger. "He wants to speak to a ranger," he said off to the side of the booth. The ranger acted a bit sheepish and stunned, as if he were under the sway of the powerful personality of the gatekeeper. Most rangers I've met don't have a Gomer Pyle air about them. I asked to see a topo map of the park. None was available.

I get the feeling that Cedar Hill State Park is more for the RVing and picnicing crowd. Even though they have a specially designed mountain biking trail, I don't think the people there are like, say, backcountry rangers in Alaska. The conversation soon switched to a discussion of county highpoints. The gatekeeper asked what was the highest California highpoint I'd gotten, and I sheepishly admitted that that would be San Jacinto Peak, and that I hadn't gotten Mount Whitney. "Oh, I walked up that one." Oh boy, the jokes just kept on a-comin', Ah tell ya whut. Bottom line: pancakes, at even a global level, are more topographically varied than the Big, Flat D. If you want a challenging hike near Dallas, prepare for a challenging drive and buy a guidebook rather than asking the people who should know something but don't. And, don't wear your Goretex jacket, shorts and hiking boots around Dallas unless you want strange looks.

Posted at 10:26 PM | Comments (0)

Dallas ex machina

[I visited Dallas around November 10; the shot above shows the Grassy Knoll.]

It's not like Dallas sprung up out of nowhere, it just feels that way to a very great extent. Everything you need to know about Dallas you probably already know: Dealey Plaza, J.R. Ewing, and the Dallas Cowboys. Texas Stadium is partially domed (OK, for my thesis to hold it would have to be fully domed, but play along), they play on Astroturf, and, if you wanted to create from scratch a plastic sports team you'd never do better than what developed naturally. Think Jerry Jones and Jimmy Johnson, sparkling clean sports uniforms and murderous cheerleader moms. Throw in massive sprawling suburbs with everything and nothing, and you don't need to know much more.

The Deep Ellum (as in "Elm" pronounced by semi-literates) section of town is somewhat of a Bohemian section, but there didn't appear to be too many wackos there. I didn't check it out at night, but I'd imagine it's just a party section. Supposedly, those from the southern reaches of Dallas occasionally go there spoiling for a fight. Deep Elm/Ellum is currently undergoing gentrification, but the movers and shakers there apparently haven't moved on to the next big area. The gentrification appears to be part of the Dallas culture. They appear unable to leave well enough alone, it must be painted over and modernized. Some of Dallas' short history is preserved, but some of it has also been cemented over. Everything must be clean and modern and well-ordered, lest it interfere with the uptight, rush-rush atmosphere.

Supposedly, Fort Worth is much more laidback. There, according to a source, you might find an expensive hotel next to a vacant lot. But, in Dallas, the vacant lot would be immediately paved over to make it look acceptable.

Posted at 10:19 PM | Comments (0)

Welcome from the left side of the bell curve

I am in Carlsbad. Carlsbad is a city in New Mexico. I like this town! Twenty thousand people live here. That is a lot. That is more than three times the number of people in Fort Stockton in Texas. Fort Stockton had an AOL access number.

There is no computer access here. "Cahm-pyoo-ter?"

Do you have a phone jack I can use? What kind of phone jack are you looking for? What kind of phone? Just a regular phone. (Yeah, that's it, just a regular phone. No sense confusing the issue. Give them something they can understand. I'll save the tutorial for later.) I want to plug my phone into a jack. Do you have a jack I can use? Well, Wal*Mart... No, I want to plug into a phone jack. [making frantic copulation gestures] I need a phone line. I need to plug into a phone line. Well, Wal*Mart... I NEED TO PLUG INTO A FUCKING ESTABLISHED PHONE LINE THAT'S ALREADY IN THE WALL AND HAS A DIALTONE YOU DUMBFUCK.

AOL does not have an access number here. There is no Kinko's here. There is no WiFi here. The interstate is miles and miles and miles away. This town is near two national parks. This town is near many other outdoor recreation areas. This town has no hiking-type outdoors stores. The entrance to the local mall just says "Mall" over the entrance.

More than twenty-thousand people visited Carlsbad Caverns in 10/03. There are twenty-thousand residents. AOL does not have an access number. That is a clue.

The people here are nice! The guy at the Radio Shack knew what WiFi is. The two librarians knew something too. The guy at the office store kindly let me use his phone jack. The guy at the pizza place wasn't a complete idiot.

Almost everyone else here is a complete idiot. They are not bad people. Just dumb. This is like a town where time stopped. The potash mines were big in the 1960s, and many of the buildings in this town were built then. Then, it stopped. This town is a goldmine of 50s and 60s architecture. There is nothing else in the mine. The ladies at the Visitor's Center have earned my "Less Than Useless" designation.

Oh! I forgot about WIPP! It's just 30 miles outside of this nice town. It brings jobs here. The people here like it. The people in Santa Fe do not like it.

I like Carlsbad!

Posted at 09:41 PM | Comments (0)

Back on the road, even if it was only for 80 miles

After Austin, I was hoping to find something to cleanse my palate. Providence and I met on the way to San Antonio when I saw the sign for the Snake Farm in New Braunfels. Unfortunately, it was closed.

San Antonio is a larger city than Austin, and there were a few people milling about its downtown area. However, I was unable to find cheap and safe parking, so I'll wait until tomorrow to check it out a bit before my big push to the west.

Posted at 08:25 PM | Comments (2)

Austin, Texas: A true cultural oasis

Lest you dismiss Austin as just a small city that's home to a cow college, let me rectify your misconceptions: Austin is truly a cultural mecca. Whether you're searching for a delicious repast or a world-class art gallery, Austin has it all.

Plus, it's the "Live Music Capital of the World." And, it has a bunch of bloggers, none of whom responded to my request for assistance, save for David Nunez. Hey, at least one fellow blogger offered to help, which is better than Boston or DC.

Other than those things, Austin has a few guys in cowboy hats, a few yuppies, a few hippies, a small number of bums, a large number of college students, a bunch of workers, a few euphuists, and not much else. In Austin, "highfalutin'" would be pronounced with the final "g;" otherwise the hearer might falsely assume that the speaker was some kind of uneducated hick like the people outside of Austin.

As for me, I prefer these kind of things straight up. If I want to see hippies or the rest, I can always drive to Berkeley and see the original version.

It's also flat. Anyone who's ever come to the "Hill" Country in search of hills should join a class action lawsuit against the Texas Convention and Visitor Bureau. Here's a hint: the ones in the foreground here are hills, and those in the back are mountains.

I'm now headed for San Antonio, perhaps via the Austin Rock Gym. In any case, I'm going to try to get to west Texas - home of Guadalupe Peak and Big Bend National Park - as fast as possible.

Posted at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)

I'm blogging live from Austin, Texas

I'm currently at a Boingo WiFi access point at Guadalupe and 41st. However, there's no foot traffic here, so I'm leaving in search of another place. Check back at around 2pm Central Time.

UPDATE: I'm now at Mojos Daily Grind at 2714 Guadalupe St. I'll be here until about 3:30pm or so.

UPDATE 2: There's not enough foot traffic here; I'm going to make my last attempt to do this at Quacks at 411 East 43rd Street. I'll update when I'm there.

UPDATE 3: Quacks, like the other places, is dead. Apparently the otherwise kind folks at the visitor center misunderstood me when I asked them to select a Boingo location with "lots of foot traffic." So, so much for Austin. See the next entry for my Austin summary.

Posted at 11:33 AM | Comments (0)

Your tax dollars at work

A shot from the former Branch Davidian compound outside Waco, Texas.

There's a plaque memorializing each of the people killed during the siege in 1993 under each of the trees shown above. Most of the trees aren't shown.

Posted at 09:48 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko is coming to Austin

I recently drove from L.A. to Maine, blogging all the way. Now I'm going back, and I'll be passing through Austin in a day or two.

I'd like to meet other bloggers and do interesting things. Despite driving thousands of miles through about 20 states, I haven't had much luck meeting other bloggers so far. A few have responded, but they were usually not on my route, or they didn't respond to follow-up emails.

Maybe Austin bloggers will be different, but, based on past experience I'm not going to hold my breath.

Contact me at abuse at tolstoy dot com. You can see a list of the ways in which I can be entertained here, and also see my run-ins with DC, Boston, and Chicago bloggers. Despite spending two whole days in Knoxville, TN, I was unable to get an audience with the Pope. Maybe I'll be able to do a "special project" in Austin that I didn't have time for in New Paltz, NY.

Posted at 08:36 AM | Comments (1)

The Man From Hot Springs Hope

Hope, Arkansas is a sleepy, slightly run-down community that has the standard assortment of fast food restaurants and gas stations, along with a small downtown section still awaiting redevelopment. There's very little Clinton-related stuff here: two of Clinton's boyhood homes, an eponymous middle school, and a boulevard named in his honor. One of the homes is now a museum, the other is in private hands. They used to have souvenir shops in the town selling Clinton-related merchandise, but they've since gone out of business. Unfortunately, tt was after dark when I visited, and the museum was closed.

The town was able to cash in on The Man From Hope for a while, but it didn't last. Which isn't perhaps too very surprising. First of all, he's not really The Man From Hope. Like most other things related to Clinton, his catchphrase is a bit of a lie.

While technically he is from Hope, his ties to and symbiosis with Hot Springs go much deeper. It would be much more accurate to call him "The Man From Hot Springs." However, as can be expected given the subject matter, accuracy loses out to what sounds better. Hope has a bit more of a nice small town vibe to it than Hot Springs ever could, so calling him The Man From Hope would also appear to be a bit of an insult to the town.

Posted at 08:32 PM | Comments (1)

The Crater of Dirt

I paid a brief visit to Crater of Diamonds State Park near Murfreesboro AR. It was a bit of a waste of time and money; I went there on the state highways and if I'd just gone from Hot Springs south along the interstate I could have saved myself at least an hour. The park is basically just a big field that looks like it's been plowed. As in fact it has, by thousands of visitors who come here looking for diamonds. For just the $5 entrance fee, you can go in and dig to your heart's content. You can even sluice the soil if you wish. The only thing you can't do is use motorized vehicles or diggers or have anything with wheels. If you dig a hole greater than 4', you need to either shore it up or give it sloped sides. And, once the day is done you need to fill in the hole.

As I was standing there reading their rules and regulations, I began thinking of how I could hack them. Perhaps I could hire a team of laborers and have them (after forcing them to sign 10 page legal documents) dig the biggest hole this place has ever seen all in one day. Maybe this is my big chance to strike it rich.

Large diamonds have been found there, including one that they paid $37000 for, and one that was even larger.

According to the ladies at the counter, the park does have regulars, but it doesn't get the same gambling junkies like you do in Las Vegas, where one can see old people who came there many years ago and still are trying to break the bank.

I got there with about an hour to go before they closed, otherwise I would have gone for it. I decided against camping there and trying to strike it rich in the morning, and I drove to Hope. I'll keep my gambling money for the slots in Vegas.

Posted at 08:23 PM | Comments (0)

Summarizing Bill Clinton

Pictured above is the headquarters for the Hot Springs Showmen's Association ("No Business Like Show Business"), a meeting hall/entertainment center for carnival folk. In a way, this place sums up Bill Clinton better than anything else could.

Ike was born in Texas and raised in Kansas; one can see how a state like Kansas (or even Texas) could give rise to someone like him. Likewise, one can see how a state like Arkansas - and especially a place like Hot Springs - could give rise to Bill Clinton, the anti-Ike.

Unfortunately, all of the carnivals have shut down for the "winter." The winter at that time was 80 degrees. The building appears to have been built back in the 60s, and the inside doesn't look like it's been redecorated since. It has dark wood panelling, a bar, a stage with a big sign "There's no people like show people" over it, and there's a creepy cardboard cutout of a clown in the front lobby. The walls in the lobby are filled with tributes to the deceased members and the large number of their deceased presidents.

The front door was open, but there weren't any cars out front or in the parking lot. I thought it might be a trap, and I was going to end up being shanghaied or worse by a group of carnival freaks. The only person there was a cleaning guy who looked like an old carnie. He said someone would be there around 2pm. Since that was an hour away, I decided to go check out the alligator farm down the street first. See the entry a couple back.

After the alligator farm, I came back. Despite waiting until 2:30, no one else showed up, and I somewhat reluctantly decided to hit the road. (Did the carnival guy there deceive me? No! It can't be true!) It would have been great to have gotten permission to shoot on the inside. I think that would sum up Hot Springs - and Bill Clinton - much better than mere words. So, you'll just have to imagine what the place was like. This guy apparently lives in AR, and he can't raise anyone there either.

Posted at 12:26 PM | Comments (2)

Rasslin' 'gators

I paid a brief visit to the Arkansas Alligator Farm, which is home to the "Merman." I wouldn't go there for the Merman. It's an obvious fake, especially with the hair. However, if you like alligators, it's got a lot of them.

Unfortunately, alligators start shutting down in November, and when I visited all of them were fast asleep. A few of the young ones would occasionally move a bit, but the larger ones were lost in deep slumber.

The spider monkey there scared the shit out of me, trying to imagine that I'm distantly related to that thing, as it stretched its hands out for the bread in my hand like one of the beggars on the streets of this mean little hole. Supposedly, FDR toured the farm and Bubba toured when he was governor.

Posted at 12:14 PM | Comments (0)

Hot Springs "National Park"

The Hot Springs National Park is probably the least worthwhile National Park I've ever seen and could ever imagine. As I told the people at the visitor center, I have trouble caring. After having toured the Fordyce Manor, I have even more trouble caring. So, they used to rub mercury on peoples' genitals in an attempt to cure syphillis. So what? At the most, this should be a state historical park, and not a National Park absorbing tax dollars from people in faraway states. A worthy project would be to strip this place of its National Park designation. I can understand how someone who lives in Arkansas would support the Gates of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, even if they never visit there. But, I can't understand how anyone who lives in Alaska, California, New York, or even elsewhere in the South would want to support the preservation of bathhouses and quackery. (Although, to be fair, the cures there were supposedly not considered quackery at the time, they were considered state of the art for the time.)

Aren't we setting the bar a bit low here? What are we going to have 100 years from now? The L. Ron Hubbard National Park? The Wal*Mart National Historical Site?

A small part of the problem for me is, frankly, the thought that this was basically a place just for the rich. However, that is apparently not correct; the bath houses weren't just for rich people. Down the street from the Fordyce was one that catered to working people. There was even a nationally-run bath house for indigents. [Just like in Russia --ed.] Taking the baths there was considered beneficial to the greater good.

There are still a few operating bath houses here, it costs around $20 to take a bath. At Fordyce, it was $2.30 in 1965 for a bath; that would be in line with the current price.

Pictured above is a bath that people were lowered into. The sign mentions the bit about mercury. See this page for more information on the park and other tourist traps there.

Seriously, why? I've been to several National Parks across the country, and I am still puzzled how anyone could think this place is even remotely in the same league as the Grand Canyon, Zion, or even something relatively small and insignificant like Bryce.

Posted at 12:08 PM | Comments (0)

I didn't post the last entry

AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION OUTSIDE OF ARKANSAS - I'm still trying to figure out what happened. All I know is I was driving through Arkansas and asking people a bunch of questions. Sure, I might have asked the wrong person the wrong question, but, people are free to ask questions, right?

Apparently, someone hacked my site and was trying to set me up for God knows what.

Thankfully, I'm across the border now. Unfortunately however, I didn't save the earlier post in which I discussed the general feeling I got that Arkansas was the most corrupt and sleazy state I've yet visited (Delaware and New Jersey included). Speaking about New Jersey, if NJ is America's Armpit, then Arkansas is America's uninvited parasite.

I didn't get a chance to visit Mena or do any extensive digging, but I will have more to say about Hot Springs and Hope later.

Posted at 09:13 AM | Comments (0)

My depression is just getting worse and worse

I've been very depressed lately. There are various reasons for it. I think I've handled it fairly well, but it's probably become a bit evident on this blog that there's a problem.

A lot of things seem to have come to a head lately. First, no other bloggers want to meet me on my travels. And, I just found out that LunaNina doesn't live in Texas like I thought, and I actually drove through her area a couple weeks ago. And, I feel quite a bit like a fish out of water here in the South. Another reason I'm depressed is that I've spent a lot of money on this trip, and I haven't really got a lot out of it. Some of those expenses have really taken their toll. For instance, I had a brake job done in Maine and not only did that cost a bit of money, now I'm beginning to doubt that they did even a slightly passable job because the brakes on my car seem to be having big problems lately.

I'm very depressed and despondent, and I don't know what I'm going to do.

Even hiking - one of my favorite activities - doesn't bring me much joy any more. I realize it's a bit foolish to hike during hunting season, and I don't even have an orange vest or anything, but I need to keep hiking in order to try in vain to chase the blues away. Part of me knows I should go to Wal*Mart and get an orange vest, but the rest of me doesn't care anymore.

This blog is depressing me as well. I don't know if I'm going to keep blogging. I might stop blogging tomorrow. If you never hear from me again, perhaps it's for the best.

(I'd also like to send a personal message to my lawyer and to Melrose Larry Green: if that email I sent to you did go through, I want to make it clear that I've since changed my mind. Everything I wrote about in that email regarding Arkansas and the Clintons was completely false, and I wrote it in the pits of my depression. I really didn't know what I was writing.

Also, if anybody saw the post that used to be in this space, I want to stress that I deleted that post because it was all completely false. Corruption does not grow here "like the scrawny weeds by the side of the highway." This state does not need a thorough "bush hogging" in order to get rid of rampant sleaze and corruption. Sleaze does not "hang heavy in the air here like the 80% humidity on 80 degree days." All those statements were false. Arkansas is the most corruption-free state in the union. And, to answer the "joke" I posted earlier, you get one of the most beautiful and talented young ladies in America today, and words like "sleazy" and "corrupt" are relative.

Contrary to what I wrote in my earlier post, I'm not going to Mena. I'm a "happy features" blogger, just like my idol Huell Howser. I am not an investigative reporter. What was I thinking, I wonder!

Further, I provided this link out of a mistaken belief that it might have some truth. I've since discovered it for the paranoid rantings of a lunatic that they are.

Also, if you're one of the people that I spoke with while I was in Arkansas, please get in touch with me immediately. I'd like to apologize for wasting your time with my pesky questions about things no one cares about and with my factually incorrect imaginings. Even if I spoke with you about something that seemed at the time to be insignificant, please get in touch ASAP. If I sent you an email, a letter, a package, or telephoned you, or otherwise communicated with you in any fashion whatsoever, please get in touch as well. It's very important that you send me an email so I can apologize. Also, please get in touch if you saw the earlier post that I've since deleted. I want to apologize to each and every one of you personally.)

Posted at 09:28 PM | Comments (2)

Hot Springs, epicenter of Bubba

After the Arkansas highpoint, I took the 10 to the 7 south to Hot Springs. It looks like a bit of a straight shot on the map, but in practice it's a rather difficult road with enough blind rises, blind curves, and 180 degree turns that it demands your complete attention. It doesn't use as much gas as the roads near Grayson Highlands State Park in VA, but it's still not an interstate. Perhaps I should have taken the freeway route, although it probably would have taken longer. However, at least unlike some other states (I'm looking at you, Massachusetts), the roads here are fairly well marked, and I had no navigational problems getting to the park and then getting to Hot Springs.

Hot Springs is a sleazy little spa town that oozes sleaze from every pore of its emaciated little body. Yes, I said "sleazy" twice, but I could have said it a third time and the characterization still would be too light. I wonder how many Bubba lionizations in the mainstream press gave an accurate portrayal of this little hole. One can easily see how someone like Bubba thrived in a town like this.

Hot Springs even has its own fairly large ghetto which is a bit surprising for a little town that not only has just 35,000 residents, but also has its own National Park. Just down the street from the National Park at Central and Grand is an area slightly reminiscent of some of the areas around LAX. That is to say you have thugs with prison tats queueing up to use the payphones, while tourists and families scurry by in a hurry to get back to their in-town motel rooms. I'd like to see this town during the day, otherwise I'd get out of here as quick as speed limits allow.

Posted at 09:15 PM | Comments (0)

It was wrong on both sides of the sign

Pictures from a church on AR10 east of Havana.

Posted at 09:09 PM | Comments (0)

The Absolute High Point of Arkansas

Earlier today, I biked/hiked to the high point in Arkansas, Signal Hill in Mt. Magazine State Park. In comparison to some of the other southern highpoints I've done on this trip, it's not that difficult to find or to get to, as long as you don't mind driving 40 or 50 miles along backroads.

A road appropriately named Circle Road runs around the high point, and a short trail bisects the circle road, heading to and from the highpoint. To make things slightly more interesting, I pushed the bike up and down the trail, and then when I got back to the road, I biked a semi-circle back to the starting point. It was pretty short and easy. It would have been nice to bike up and down the trail, but that's not allowed, and ethics is what we do when people aren't watching. As they say.

There were more difficult options, but due to timing and the possibility of thunderstorms later in the day, I decided not to do them. I could have gained 2000' to get to the highpoint, but I would have had to have hiked 18 miles round trip in order to get the same gain I could get in much less distance elsewhere. That's on the Cove Lake trail; there are various access points on that trail, but except for the longest version, the parking areas are in remote locations, and I didn't feel that parking there would be a wise decision.

As on the highpoint of Virginia, there's no view from the highpoint. The second shot was taken near the site of the old lodge. That's also near the area where some rock climbing and hang-gliding takes place, but there was no one there partaking of those activities. I only saw one other person on the highpoint trail itself.

Posted at 09:01 PM | Comments (0)

I'm just going to wait here until they build it then

I really should have stayed in Memphis another day. Even during the day, Little Rock is a bit sleepy. The Clinton Library is still under construction, and won't be open until Fall 2004. That's it in the background. The display is located at the River Market in downtown.

I also tried to find the "little rock" that gave this city its name. I guess I did, because a picture at the park on the riverfront lines up with the rocks under one of the bridges there. Trust me, I've seen a lot of rocks, and this is nothing to drive out of your way for.

Posted at 08:12 PM | Comments (0)

I'm going to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee

See, now you've got it constantly running through your mind too, and no amount of soothing Elvin music will erase the sound of the bad one out of Simon & Garfunkel.

I didn't take a tour of Graceland, or any of the other attractions. Maybe next time. I did watch the somewhat informative and entertaining video about Elvis' two planes which are on display at Graceland. It includes information on how they were moved there.

I signed my name on the wall outside Graceland, and I took a couple pictures of it. However, now I can't find those pictures. This has happened before; in KC I took several pictures of the brick buildings downtown, and in VA I took a few pictures of the ponies with Mt. Rogers in the background. None of those shots were on the card, and I guess I'm going to have to throw this card out, because I can't trust it anymore. So, you're just going to have to imagine that there's a third picture with: "Lonewacko.com Elvis Lives!"

I am indeed Elvis. Elvis Lives! Just as Elvis fired up his private jet at 1am to fly to Denver to get peanut butter sandwiches, I drove from L.A. to Vermont to get a new Green Mountain Club T-shirt.

Graceland is set in an area somewhat reminiscent of the nicer parts of Inglewood. It gets a bit worse further north, somewhat like heading east on Manchester. I guess Elvis had no interaction with his neighbors; he couldn't leave without an escort because there were people outside the gates 24/7.

The Mud Run in Memphis was closed for the season, which was quite unfortunate. It supposedly has rocks - real, goshdarned rocks - that one can walk on. Other than that, Memphis is pretty flat. The "bluffs" between Memphis and the Mississippi are gently-sloped, but too overgrown to walk through without bathing in DEET first.

I decided to spend the night in Little Rock, which was a mistake. As of 9:30pm on a Sunday night, the sidewalks there had been rolled up and neatly stacked in preparation for the week to come. I really should have stayed in Memphis.

Posted at 07:51 PM | Comments (0)

Buffaloed

Driving west on the 40, I intended to spend the night at the KOA in Buffalo, which is also the entry point for the Loretta Lynn Dude Ranch. While I knew the name "Loretta Lynn," I couldn't quite figure out which one she was. All I knew is that she was not Tanya Tucker. I eventually saw a display where they were selling a video of "Coal Miner's Daughter," and I saw her picture, so I knew who it was.

My first reaction after seeing the Loretta Lynn restaurant and its associated unincorporated city of Buffalo was "Jaysus, is she sick or something? Is she poor, or stupid, or just has no sense of how to create a tourist attraction?"

I always thought Loretta Lynn was a big, rich star. After seeing the city and the restaurant, I'm rethinking that. Make no mistake, Buffalo is a dump. And, it's not a dump in the dump-but-honest or dump-but-quaint fashion, it's just a dump. Most - but not all - of the small number of people I spoke with there were Not Nice. I hesitate to overuse the word "asshole" too much, lest it lose its meaning. Let's just say that "What do you need now?" is not the proper way to speak to a prospective customer. The manager lady at her restaurant was rude. I asked one of her employees "do people actually come here? Like, in tour buses?" She told me that they did, and she did so in a quiet fashion as if she didn't want her manager to overhear he speaking to a customer. The restaurant also has a small gift shop that sells hillbilly-related junk. For some strange reason outside her restaurant there's a moderately new tractor on exhibit. Actually, if not for the bricks holding it in place, one might think it was driven in. I guess it's a coal mine locomotive, although if it was meant as a display, it's the most piss-poor display I've seen this side of Prairie Dog Town.

Now, bear in mind that the town of Buffalo is just the first stop on the Loretta Lynn tour. She has a dude ranch further up the road that I didn't see. Maybe that's where she keeps the good stuff and the nice people. And, bear in mind that according to this message she's not the owner of the restaurant, although according to the manager she comes in there occasionally. And, bear this sympathetic article in mind.

In any case, perhaps these people were this way because it's the end of the tourist season. Or, maybe their thoughts of cashing in on the Loretta Lynn bonanza have come to naught. Or, they wanted to go home and didn't care about alienating visiting bloggers.

Whatever the reason for their attitudes, I'd suggest holding it, coasting at 35MPH, or doing whatever you have to do to get to the next stop down the road. Those with special needs should note that there's another XXX emporium further west on the 40. I didn't check that one out, and the one in Buffalo looked closed anyway.

I had earlier called the Buffalo KOA, and the lady I spoke with not only was a bit testy, she tried a bit of a sales job to get me to make a reservation. "We might have a church group come in at any moment, you never know." I decided not to make a reservation, and when I got there I found out they didn't take credit cards, or at least didn't allow them for night registration. So, all factors combined to make me keep rolling on down the road.

After checking out a few "camping" locations that turned out to be nothing more than RV parks, I eventually took exit 20 off the I40 and stayed at the East Memphis Campground. Their sign wasn't working, so I drove up and down a bit before learning that it was located behind a mobile home park. The tent camping area was the least backwoods I've ever seen. It was in a level grassy area elevated a few feet from the campground's road, and next to a pavillion. Somewhat like camping in a pocket city park. However, it was $16.72 and I had no other options, so I took it.

Posted at 07:49 PM | Comments (0)

Huell Who?

I arrived in Gallatin, TN on a late Saturday afternoon. Gallatin, for those who don't know, is the birthplace of my idol, Huell Howser.

Unfortunately, many of the shops were closed at that time, as was the visitor's center. I wanted to inquire about Huell-related celebrations, or suggest they hold some if none were currently planned. The 'Welcome to Gallatin' sign on the highway advertises this as the home of football champions; I'd also like to suggest they include 'Birthplace of Huell Howser.' Kansas has several highway signs 'Blank-blank, birthplace of astronaut so-and-so' and, while Huell's never to my knowledge been to space, I'm sure he'd draw at least a few people.

I wandered around a bit asking people if they'd ever heard of Huell; a few had, but most hadn't. I didn't have a video camera with me, but I did have a tape recorder; I briefly considered conducting a Huell-style interview there in Gallatin, but I decided against it. Maybe next trip.

Pictured above is Laura, who owns Antiques and Uniques on Main Street in downtown Gallatin. Despite being a native, she had never heard of Huell. The ladies at Antiques on Main down the street had heard of Huell, but didn't have any juicy Huell gossip to report. They did, however, thankfully provide me with the names of two residents who had known the young Huell. I spoke with Walter Durham, who is the author of Volunteer Forty-Niners: Tennesseans and the California Gold Rush and other books. Unfortunately, he was headed out of town so I wasn't able to interview him.

It was bad timing on my part not to arrive there earlier in the day on a weekday, but, now that I have a few local contacts, my next trip should be a lot easier.

As mentioned in the previous entry, I bought and had later donned a polo shirt, and I was trying to acquire a cheap hand-held microphone. Why, you ask? Well, I was considering making something for the L.A. Cacophony Society's upcoming tribute to Huell. They went to the Gold Line and conducted interviews in Huell-style. I really should have done something more here, but, you know, I'm a bit road-weary, South-weary, knackered, impoverished, tired, and all the rest.

Posted at 07:33 PM | Comments (3)

Halloween in Lebanon

After my thankfully brief car scare, I continued to drive west. The Nashville KOA wanted $27 for a tent site (what do they think this is, Newburgh, NY?). So, I decided to spend Halloween tenting it in Lebanon TN. That only cost $14, and it was less than a mile from a Wal*Mart and a panoply of fast food restaurants. There were no other tent campers in that campground. It would have been a bit scary if not for the 100 or so RVs there as well.

In the morning, I bought a polo shirt for $2.50 at Goodwill and then washed it. The polo shirt was a prop I was going to use in Gallatin, as the next entry will make clear. I also tried to find a hand-held microphone for my Gallatin trip, but the least expensive was $10, and I considered that too much of an invested for a joke. The next entry will make all this quite clear I hope.

I needed to mail some letters and otherwise TCB in a flash, but the Lebanon post office was closed. So, rather than being able to drive directly to Gallatin (see the next entry), I drove to Nashville first and then doubled-back to Gallatin. Unfortunately, the only part of Nashville I saw was the area around the airport. Then, after I went to Gallatin, I drove through Nashville but I didn't get off the freeway, which was probably a mistake.

The Nashville post office was right next to their international airport, and it turned out to be open 24/7, and a 24/7 Kinko's was just down the street. Those are the kind of operating hours I like. So, as much as I hate country music, it's unfortunate that I only drove through Nashville and didn't even drive down its main drags a bit. I get the feeling - based on very little knowledge it's true - that Nashville is a bit of a southern-fried Las Vegas.

While I was doing my laundry in Lebanon, I experienced one of the few times during this trip when I thought I might have to unleash Bo and Luke. I was standing outside the laundromat across from the Goodwill in the rather run-down part of this little town, doing a bit of people watching. I was about a mile from the fast food and Wal*Mart strip, back where the residents live and do their thing. One of the people I was watching was an interesting guy in a logoed T-shirt and jeans. He had a mullet as well. Perhaps you've seen him? He was walking away from me about 50' away, when he notices me peering over the top of my vehicle, looking his way. He turned around a couple of times, once very quickly, as if to catch me in the act. Perhaps he thought I was a copper. He kept walking, but, even though I was a distance away, I got the feeling that he might be a-thunkin' about chargin' the Lonewacko. Thankfully, I didn't need to let The Boys out to play, as he kept on walking. I'll leave the reader to speculate on what substances could cause one to have this behavior; I don't know about that there Hillbilly Heroin, but I'd imagine that it generally has a more calming affect, so that probably wasn't it.

Posted at 04:18 PM | Comments (1)

Car problems...

The last time I had any major car problems was over a year ago. Driving up the White Mountain Road near Bishop, CA the temperature light suddenly came on. Stopping didn't help; adding a bit of water didn't help. Apparently the water pump had broke, and not in such a favorable place. I was 10 miles from the 395 and at 8000'. It was a Saturday also, but at least it was during the day and mostly all down hill. Making an executive decision, I decided to risk limping back to L.A. by putting water in it occasionally. I got the pump replaced the next Monday, and nothing seemed to be damaged.

Other than deciding to have a brake job, I haven't so far had any serious car problems on my tour. Until earlier today.

"What is all that water doing on my windshield?" I wondered. Did I pass through an area where they're spraying the plants at the side of the free, er, highway? When the temperature light went on, and I saw a bit of steam, I realized what had happened.

Pulling over, I quickly noticed that one of the hoses had flown off. I put it back on and put some water in the radiator. Thankfully, it was during the day and a weekday and I was about a mile from Monterey, a small town with a few auto repair places. I've driven through many other places in which it wouldn't have been so good to have a breakdown. Like, Maine north of Bangor during a wicked rain storm, or the ghettoes of Chicago or Philly. The first place I stopped at thought it was probably just the hose getting loose, and I agreed with him. So, with the addition of some antifreeze, I was on my merry way.

Just as I began to get back on the highway, the temperature light came back on again. Oh my. (Even my '77 Datsun B210, '86 Mazda 626, and '88 Mitsubishi Mighty Max had a temperature guage; my '94 Jeep Cherokee just has a light.)

So, I pulled into another garage. After much deliberation and thunking, we decided to see if replacing the temperature sensor would do it. I was certainly hoping that it would, as I was standing there running Plan B through my mind.

Plan B involves trading the Jeep for another cheaper car, and using that to limp back to wherever I'm going back to. I'd rather avoid Plan B if possible.

Thankfully, Plan A seems to be still in full force and effect, as I was able to drive about 60 miles after the incident without the light going on or anything else happening. And, it just cost me about $30 and a couple hours, so I consider myself quite lucky.

Posted at 07:14 PM | Comments (12)

An audience with the Pope of Blogton

KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE - Last night, I took Glenn "Instapundit" Reynolds to the rock climbing gym. This was his first time climbing, and it was quite an interesting and informative experience for him! He thanked me for my basic instruction in such matters as tieing a figure-8-with-a-follow-through, doubling-back the harness, and such. He indicated that it was quite exciting to be 30' off the ground, and that this will become a lifetime hobby for him from now on.

I had to draw this event using a stick figure, because unfortunately my camera failed at this important juncture.

This was certainly a great PR "stunt" for both of us. It's brought me a lot of hits, and it helps show another side to Professor Reynolds. Now, people will be forced to say things like, "I used to call him Instacracker, but after seeing him not only scuba diving but rock climbing, I have to admit he's an OK guy."

Yes, this rock climbing was certainly interesting for both of us.

Except, it never happened. Here's what happened instead:

I arrived at the gate to the University of Tennessee, and I told the guy at the gate I was there to see "Glenn."

"Professor Reynolds is busy right now."

"Uh, did I mention that I'm a blogger?"

"Wow, I'm impressed. What tier are you, blogger boy?"

Trying to maintain my cool, I stated, "Well, I'm a Fourth Tier blogger, but..."

"If you want an audience, you can wait in The Pen. That's where we keep the Fourth Tier bloggers."

"But," I stammered, "Glenn's a buddy of mine. At least in an Internet-kinda way. I've been Instalanched several times. Glenn - er - Professor Reynolds has even responded to a couple of my emails. He even left a comment once, for gosh sake."

"You're a Fourth Tier blogger. Either wait in The Pen, or get lost."

So, I waited in The Pen. I felt myself lucky compared to those in a nearby waiting area which was, quite literally, a pit. The sign there said "tHe PiT: FIftH TiER And LoWEr." It was populated with chat girl bloggers wearing Britney and Avril T-shirts and their MILFs.

On the other hand, the place where they kept the Second and Third Tier bloggers was a bit better. It was a converted McDonalds, with additional seats added. The difference between the treatment the Second and Third Tier bloggers received appeared to be that the Second Tier folks were given small paper cups of orange juice to help maintain their blood sugar.

Later, I saw a completely hooded figure enter through a small, unmarked door using a keycard. As he opened the door I heard some light strains of classical music and a slight waft of magnolias in the air. I later learned that that was the First Tier courtesy lounge. I didn't learn the identity of the masked blogger, but perhaps he was there to seek advice (calpundit.com/archives/002525.html).

Unfortunately, after several hours of waiting for a possible audience, the guards announced that Professor Reynolds had left the campus, and there would be no more audiences that day.

So, I guess my only chance to get an audience will be if I manage to learn about and then crash one of the Upper Tier L.A. blogger parties.

Posted at 07:12 PM | Comments (0)

The Real Deal of Tennessee Mountain Rasslin'

I haven't seen L.A. public access cable TV in a long time, but several years ago two characters stand out. One was a crazy Irish-Jewish guy who would sit in a chair, stare at the camera, and free-associate. Another, even more interesting guy who had his own show was a "Mr. Morrisson." Not only would he free-associate, he'd bring up his connections with Craig T. Nelson and, when he needed a break from the free-associating, he'd make balloon animals.

Public access cable TV in Knoxville TN is a bit different. Here they have shows promoting "The Real Deal of Tennessee Mountain Rasslin'" complete with a trash-talkin' host who makes insulting and threatening comments about those who call in: "tell your mom to stop callin' me," etc. etc. We've all heard the Foreigner classic "Dirty White Boy," but this is the first time I've ever heard anyone on TV refer to themselves with that appelation.

Lest I end up on the bidness end of his whuppin' stick for copyright infringement, I want to stress that the picture above should be taken as an advertisement. If you're a resident of Knoxville, I heartily recommend that you go to the National Guard Armory and see the rasslin'. But, then again, if you're a resident of Knoxville you probably already were planning to attend.

Posted at 06:59 PM | Comments (0)

Tennessee's highest point

I got to Clingman's Dome just as the sun was setting, and started up the wide asphalt path to the futuristic summit tower. It was fairly steep, albeit quite short: just .5 mile and 300' of gain. I got there maybe 15 minutes too late for a good sunset, and the clouds weren't correctly aligned in any case. It was still a nice sunset from the top of TN. To earn it a bit more, I wanted to jog down the path, but an elderly lady's scooter had broken down, so I and a couple other people helped her down. One guy drove up the asphalt path partway, making that a bit easier. After helping her into the car, I was able to get my run in. It was worth it, because she called me an angel. That's something the rest of you should keep in mind.

Posted at 09:07 PM | Comments (1)

"Where have I heard of Gatlinburg before?"

After ascending Mt. Mitchell, I drove to Tennessee to do the high point of that state, Clingman's Dome, which is located in Great Smoky Mountains State Park. The picture above is on the way to the park. This was outside the park, and just one of the first good views I saw. One could spend a lot of time in the park itself getting even better views, but I was in a rush to get to Clingman's Dome. On the way to the park, I drove through Gatlinburg, which is a town I swear I've heard of before. Like, someone famous is from here, or something happened here (I googled and found a Civil War skirmish, but that's about it), or something. Whatever the case may be, Gatlinburg is a resort type of town, somewhat like a southern-fried, four-lane version of Lake Placid. According to a reliable local source, Gatlinburg is more for the older people, and Pigeon Forge (home of Dollywood) is mainly for the children.

I briefly stopped in a gas station, and, while filling my sody cup, saw a 30-something southern belle and asked her, "What's Gatlinburg famous for?" She didn't have much of a response, and seemed a bit shocked that a Yankee - and a Damned one at that - was so forward to speak to her in a gas station. "Where would I have heard of it before?" The answer was "Everywhere." Despite that encounter, Gatlinburg looks to be the place to go for Southern Belles Gone Wild.

Posted at 09:00 PM | Comments (0)

"Climbing" Mt. Mitchell

Two days ago I - or, rather, my car - climbed Mt. Mitchell, North Carolina's highest point. As you can see, the view from there is quite good, although it would be better if I'd actually earned it. Apparently people do climb it in winter. At that time it's a pretty heavy-duty hike because of the weather and the snow accumulation and ice, so ice axes are necessary, but it's probably not as treacherous as, say, Katahdin or an in-season climb of Hood or Rainier. So, if I'm back in the area I might do that.

Unfortunately, the USGS survey marker was stolen (at least according to the only person I asked), but a North Carolina state survey marker remains for those who need to stand on something.

Posted at 08:45 PM | Comments (0)

Into the hollers with Lonewacko

While driving through West Virginia and now Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee, several images come to mind. One of the more positive ones is from an old National Geographic feature on remote hollers, I believe in WV. One of the settlements was so remote that the only access to it was over a rope bridge.

If I'd had more time in the area and more preparation, it might be interesting to find a place like that. However, at the same time I'd be worried a bit about my personal safety. I get conflicting reports about whether the stereotypes of mountainfolk are accurate or not.

Part of the confusion I have with people seems to be over the difference between private land and public land which is claimed by families or groups. Are there parts where people can't go, despite it being public land, without fear of being jacked by hillbillies driving '42 Ford pickups?

One of my correspondents - a female native of these parts - had this to say about visiting hollers: "I went there once when a child to pick berries, and a local child asked me 'you got backy in your yard too?' I couldn't understand a word he was saying, it was like he was speaking a foreign language. I was told don't go into the hollers without a shotgun." She also told me to watch out for marijuana growers back in those hills, even on state lands.

Maybe my post about WV was based on me not meeting any of the hardcore mountainfolk.

Another one of my correspondents, a pretty young lady from Asheville, downplayed the antagonistic image of Appalachians, saying that she'd never met anyone who would shoot her for walking on their land or who would try to marry her off to their 80-year-old granddads. According to her, WNC folks are pretty mellow and, while hillbillies might be ignorant about certain things, they aren't necessarily dumb. I also brightened her day by informing her that Deliverance was actually set and filmed on the South Carolina/Georgia border, and North Carolina is absolved of any guilt therein.

One way to avoid problems or at least mitigate them would be to go with a guide. That might cost money, unless I could volunteer my reportarial skills, or, more realistically, my computer skills. I'm sure there are organizations out there trying to computerize the mountains, and I might be able to go out with them for a day or three in exchange for being guided to one of the remote hollers. Maybe next trip.

UPDATE: I'm also quite interested in the Melungeons, a group of people who live way out in the boonies in the Cumberland Gap. Their origins are shrouded in mystery: are they descendents of Portuguese sailers, galley slaves, American Indians, blacks, or what? See this article for an overview, and what appears to be a semi-official site is here.

Posted at 08:19 PM | Comments (0)

A Lonewacko in the Land of the Goddesses, Continued

[In our last installment, Lonewacko was describing the many beautiful women to be found in Asheville, North Carolina and how that city was truly a babe wonderland. However, his inner voice kept interupting him with something important to say...]

Lonewacko, have you checked the batteries in that thing?

What the hell are you talking about?

Here, let me do it... Just as I thought, you needed new batts. Is it working now?

Holy Gaia! You mean...

Yes, Lonewacko. All those babes aren't babes, they're womyn and don't you forget it. They are all to a man-jack lesbians.

But, that can't be true! Not all of them! We're in the middle of the Bible Belt! This is the home of the Billy Graham School of Evangelism, f'r gosh sake!

Lonewacko, according to the informative and authoritative guide book Underground Asheville, 40,000 lesbians live or work in Asheville. And, all of them are hardcore died-in-the-wool-flannel-shirt lesbian man-haters. The only reason they'd throw you one is so they could castrate you in your sleep and sacrifice your genitalia on their Wiccan New Age altar.

No, no, no! First, they can't all be lesbians. There are only 200,000 people in the entire Buncombe county which contains Asheville. That number is statistically improbable if not impossible. You mean even the cute girl at the cafe is one of them? She seemed so nice. She moved here because she had friends here. Hmm... Plus, I object to your intolerant characterization. Most lesbians are cool. Lesbians are certainly welcome on my Friendster blogroll. In fact, I briefly chatted with Phranc a few times and we seemed to get along as well as a straight male chauvinist pig goy and a lesbian Jewish folksinger could. She even sent Annie Sprinkle to my door one night after her show.

Annie Sprinkle rejected you at first sight.

No she didn't. She was just tired. I'd already seen up inside her womynsding anyway... Plus, maybe it's not as bad as you think it is. Maybe most of them aren't, you know, full-on lesbians. If'n you know what I mean. Phwoar! Plus, I'm pretty sure the foxy older lady who answered some of Lonewacko's questions wasn't one of Them. She was slim with a bit of a sway in her hips. She still had it. Plus, where did all of them come from? Where did all of the New Age Holistic Health Practitioners (500 at last count) come from too? I know not all of those holistic health practitioners are successful at it, and in fact some of them come there like starlets to Hollywood and end up busing tables or working in offices instead.

No one knows how this whole thing got started. Maybe the holistics came here because of the mountains. Maybe the lesbians came here because they put up a sign in San Francisco, suggesting people move here.

Good one, but it wasn't that funny the first time I heard it from one of my less-than-tolerant correspondents. You see, Asheville prides itself on its tolerance and its (somewhat limited) diversity. It appears to be a nice little city, in the same way that, for instance, Flagstaff AZ is a nice little city. They're both right off the freeway. And, Asheville isn't right next to anything else, although Asheville is a lot less isolated than Flag. However, after just a day there wandering around and pestering people with questions I felt a bit stifled and claustrophobic. If I had spent another day there I'm sure I would have started seeing the same people twice, and that I can't stand.

There are no less than four Arby's here, so, you could visit them on a cyclical basis together with the handful of McDonald's and Wendy's.

That's little comfort. I think it's time to move on to Dollywood.

Posted at 09:13 PM | Comments (0)

A Lonewacko in the Land of the Goddesses

I knew there was something special about Asheville, NC the moment I drove through there on the freeway. I hadn't even gotten into the town itself or gotten off the highway, and I knew that this town was different. Even those less astute have figured it out; Asheville has been featured in the NYT, on CBS, and in many other media outlets.

What's so special about it? Well, let's start with the women here. All types: short, tall, long curly brown hair, short cute page boy styles, some wearing tasteful makeup, others more the outdoorsy type, and the list goes on.

Of all the places on my journeys, Asheville seems to have a very high per capita of babes. You see them walking along Asheville's attractive downtown area, looking like they could climb mountains in the morning and go for their doctorate at UNCA in the afternoon. And, they aren't stuck-up like many of the L.A. babes either. It's truly a babe wonderland!

Lonewacko!

And, the scenery here is great. But, the babes are really the star...

Lonewacko! Are you listening to me?

Yes, what is it, inner voice?

Lonewacko, are you sitting down? I have something to tell you...

Tune in to the Lonewacko Blog tomorrow sometime to find out the surprise ending to this post.

What does Lonewacko's inner voice have to say?

Find out tomorrow!

Posted at 07:34 PM | Comments (1)

I forgot to mention I got the high point of Virginia

I climbed Mt. Rogers - Virginia's highest point - a few days ago. Oh, you want a trip report, right? Well, there isn't that much to report regarding either most of the hike or the summit of Mt. Rogers itself. As I look back on it, I don't remember any points where the trail actually went up, although there must have been some of it, because it has a gain of 1500' over 8.6 miles round-trip, some of which is on the way back. On this whole trip I've never bothered to carry my hiking poles, because I've mainly been hiking on fairly rocky trails and I usually don't use the poles in that case. While this trail has rocks on it, the poles were useful.

Despite the poles and the easy trail, it actually took me longer to complete the hike than the average. There are various reasons. I stopped to take pictures of the ponies, as shown above. And, I left the hiking poles behind on the top of Wilburn Ridge, and I had to double back to retrieve them. And, once I got off the Wilburn Ridge trail, I took a wrong turn for a bit. And, since I'd heard that there is a maze of trails here, I stopped to ask a few people if I was on the right trail.

Another reason is I wasn't feeling too good after a cold and somewhat annoying night at the Stone Mountain State Park campground outside Sparta, NC. The campground, surprisingly enough, was almost full, and I was unfortunate enough to be gifted with a pair of guys who arrived just before they locked the gate. It took them a few hours of slamming car doors, starting a fire, loud talking and, absolutely worst of all, playing of Kenny Loggins and Seal (no, I'm not kidding, I finally at least saw someone who buys Kenny Loggins records) before finally quieting down.

The campground host also bothered me a bit. He came around to collect the fee and asked to see my driver's license to fill out his form. I demurred, suggesting he just take the license plate number instead. "The form has a space for both your DL# and your plate. They used to just ask for a plate number, but if the car is stolen, that doesn't do any good." Great, now I'm a suspected car thief. "It's for my protection as well as yours." Strangely enough, I've heard these same lines of argumentation before, and they've been from The Fuzz! After receiving my driver's license, he "conversed" with me a bit "are you heading back to California, or heading east?" "How'd you hear about our park?" He didn't seem to be too very interested in the answers, and I felt more like I was being given a ticket by a backwoods Florida sheriff than I was renting a $12 tent site. Admittedly, I might have seemed a bit out of place, seeing as I was just one person sitting in the dark except for my headlamp eating my takeout Chinese meal. I was certainly out of place compared to the well-lit MOR party next door.

A minor bit of rural excitement happened on the way out when I stopped at the intersection of 19 and 58 outside the park. A car alarm went off, and a cow in a trailer next to it began mooing in synchronicity with the urban accessory.

As far as the "maze" of trails, despite the protestations of the rangers at the park, there is indeed a bit of a maze there: horse trails, foot trails, deer trails, etc. etc.

To avoid getting lost, follow the Rhododendron trail from Grayson Highlands State Park until you start seeing a fence ahead. (The Rhododendron Trail is a wide, road-like trail). When you see the fence, get off the wide trail, and cut across the grass to the left directly towards the fence. You should arrive at a small ladder that goes up and over, and joins the Appalachian Trail. The AT is a white-blazed trail; simply follow the white blazes almost all the way to the summit, which should be visible within a couple miles. When you get to the Thomas Knob shelter, take the right fork up to the summit, where it dead ends.

On the way back, I took the blue-blazed Wilburn Ridge trail, which has some boulder hopping and goes up and over that ridge and which provides good views: see the second pic above. It's better to take that on the way back to get the good views. Note that the WR trail meets the AT at a four-way intersection; take a right to go back to the parking lot. Don't take the first three-way intersection. Just remember, if you start seeing horse hooves, you're probably on the wrong trail.

And, just to make this painfully clear, the second pic above is from the Wilburn Ridge, and not from the summit of Mt. Rogers. The summit just has a bit of a mossy forest on it, and there's no view at all.

Posted at 07:09 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko doesn't find Winston-Salem to be too very odious

As indicated in the previous entry, on Sunday I drove into Southwestern VA, and I intended to do Mount Rogers the next day. I also needed to run an errand in a big city, which I decided to do on Monday, leaving the hike for Tuesday. I decided to check out the trailhead on my way to the Big City, which looked to be within an hour or two's drive.

One of the three trailheads is located in Grayson Highlands State Park, which appears to be the best choice since at least one of the others is remote and has had car thefts. I went up the Rhododendron Trail a bit, and I even saw a couple of the famous ponies standing in the shade of a trail sign.

The trip from the park to the outskirts of Winston-Salem NC was a 1.5 hour white knuckle ride on the Lonewacko express as I went up one holler, round the next knob, up the knob, down the knob, through the holler, and so on and so forth all while shifting the (unfortunately auto) tranny like crazy and still being unable to equal the speed limit in some places. (Note to UK readers: a "knob" is the local name for a hill.) I must have burned several dollars of gas. I got to Winston-Salem late, so I waited here overnight until I could run my errand earlier today.

Thanks for making it through the explanation above, now for the good stuff.

W-S is a little sleepy, but it's not that bad. The cost of living here appears to be rather inexpensive for some inexplicable reason. I mean, it doesn't have any major touron attractions, but it's not that bad. The weather here is pretty nice and warm. And, I have immediate experience with that as I'm currently sitting in my car on Fourth St. in downtown W-S blogging using the city-supplied free WiFi access. A young lady who definitely had back walked past a few minutes ago; there are many fine ladies here in addition to her.

The pictures above are from Pilot Mountain State Park. I went there to look for some of my fellow rock climbers. Despite taking the whole Ledge Spring Trail, I didn't see anyone, although I saw a few climbing-related markings. The park says that trail is strenuous; I say it's moderate at most. Pilot Mountain itself is visible right off the 4 lane highway, and it's somewhat impressive. You can't, however, climb or hike to the top because it's home to an endangered species or a nesting area or something. And, the views from there aren't too good because of tree cover.

The pretty young secretary at the visitor center was, strangely enough, fully made-up and dressed-up; most people working in such setting are not. Unfortunately, she was only there briefly so I wasn't able to find out what the deal was. I'll save my speculation for a later date.

Posted at 02:08 PM | Comments (0)

Yeehaw and Holy Gawd

I posted the last two entries from the Kinko's in Harrisonburg, Virginia. Harrisonburg is the home of James Madison University, and it looked like a nice small city. There was a pretty, young, be-ringed lady making copies, and two other pretty young ladies came in to use the computers. They had a young child, to whom they occasionally spoke short, quick snippets of some language or dialect that, surprisingly, Lonewacko couldn't figure out. But, they also appeared to be native English speakers. (Maybe he was adopted -- ed. Thanks, I think that's a possibility -- LW). The pretty young lady at the gas station was quite friendly as well. I even saw a guy on a unicycle.

Everything was going fine until I mistakenly stopped at a fast food restaurant outside Roanoke VA.

Now, Lonewacko has seen several Southerners and several hicks on his tour. The people in Indiana were mostly a-holes, but they weren't really Southern hicks. In Missouri and West Virginia there were many people speaking with a strange accent, but most of the people I ran into in my 24 hours in WV were quite nice, and those in MO weren't really hardcore hicks. One of the people I spoke with in WV was originally from Michigan; after hearing about my stereotypes of WVers, he told me "those people you're talking about are my neighbors. I live up in the hills, and they're the nicest people you'd want to meet." Another transplant to WV from New England had had the same stereotypes in mind as I did before he moved there; he told me that we were both wrong. And, to a certain extent and regarding the area I was in, I somewhat believe them.

And, there are plenty of hicks in Utah and the rest of the southwest, but they aren't southern hicks.

In any case, I haven't seen too many really hardcore, resolutely unelevated southern hicks until now. Sitting down next to me in the restaurant was a whole family of them. Now, I don't have a problem with red necks; I have one myself. And, it's not the logoed T-shirts I have a problem with; that's mostly what I wear. Mine are emblazoned with "Microsoft," (free) or "Visual Cafe for Java," (free) or "Green Mountain Club" (both were worth it). Theirs were emblazoned with Nascar and Megadeth; whatever, right?

No, what I object to were the other things. It was like an animatronic display intended to reinforce southern hick stereotypes: loud belching, jokes about what the restaurant would do if they ran out of mayonaise, etc. They let off a noisemaker for extra effect. I'm sure they're re-running HeeHaw somewhere right now, but I saw it live. I also got a few less than friendly looks from some of the other patrons; perhaps they don't like hiker-types in that area.

Maybe I'll just do one to four of the state highpoints near southwestern Virginia, and then head back west as fast as I can. I don't think I want to get too very much more Deeper.

Posted at 05:26 PM | Comments (0)

Shenandoah National Park

Earlier today I drove along Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park. The park - and the parts of Virginia I've so far seen - are quite attractive.

I briefly stopped to do the Bearfence Mountain trail, a fairly short and easy 2nd class scramble up to a 360 degree and a 180 degree viewpoint. The views were pretty good, but bear in mind the 360 degree viewpoint comes before the other one.

I was able to make it a little more interesting by trying to use my hands as little as possible and by going off the trail a bit for a little 3rd class stretch. There were many flesh pylons on the trail - including one who made a couple cellular phone calls - so it wasn't exactly a wilderness experience.

Posted at 12:35 PM | Comments (0)

The National Mall by day

I took a biking tour of the Mall area, riding from Union Station to the Lincoln Memorial and back, stopping at the Washington Monument and the White House.

Pictured above is Dr. Choi (who is from the Philippines) leading her lonely crusade in front of the White House to comment on something or advise President Bush about something. I couldn't figure out exactly what she was protesting, but it had something to do with 9/11 not being terrorism and with Kim Dae Jung.

Also pictured is another protester of the general "peace" type. He'd arrived late and was working on his sign live for the Lonewacko lens. Due to spelling errors it took a couple of tries to make the perfect sign.

Posted at 12:25 PM | Comments (0)

What if they allowed car camping in Griffith Park?

Do NOT, I repeat, do NOT stay at the Greenbelt National Park campground. The reader might be familiar with NYC's Central Park or L.A.'s Griffith Park. If so, the reader is invited to let his or her imagination run free vis-a-vis what it would be like if they allowed camping there. Always at the forefront of our nation, D.C. has rushed in where NYC and L.A. feared to tread.

The location is certainly attractive: just 13 miles from the Capitol. However, it's also in the middle of an urban area, with all the wackiness thereby implied. I arrived there before dark and set up my tent in an empty space, filling out the requisite form and placing a copy of it on the post next to my new parking space. I chose the furthest back tent site in order to gain what little privacy was possible.

When I returned at 11pm, I was quite surprised to find two cars in "my" space, together with two couples of drunk yahoos. Rather than chasing them off, and thereby letting them know where I was staying, I decided that moving my tent to another space was the better option. One of the yahoos told me that he'd just inherited $167,000, and offered to pay me to move. I decided against that, and I wish the recipients of his money the best of luck in their future endeavors.

In a car in the space next to my brand new space a young Asian lady had fallen asleep with the engine and lights and radio on. She has since awoken and settled down for the night in her back seat.

As I write this, a car alarm has just gone off. (Later on, the homeless girl turned her engine on again, the car alarm went off again, I heard a helicopter and planes and trucks, and, after finally getting some sleep, I was awakened by a whole tent city of newly-arrived boy scouts.)

Like I said, do NOT stay here. If you want the same experience, try this instead.

Posted at 10:05 AM | Comments (0)

The Capitol at night

Traffic wasn't that bad, and I soon found the place where I was going to stay, which will be covered in the next post. Stopping at the Boston Market in College Park, I discovered to my dismay cool cornbread.

Subsequently, I tried to get WiFi access at Chop It in College Park. Their connection was very slow, even when I moved to the area of the restaurant with a good signal. So, I decided to try something closer to central D.C., and I headed off for Zanzibar which, cutely enough, is a bar. I drove into D.C. through what looked to be one of its no doubt many fine ghettoes, watching about a dozen D.C. cops drive around with lights and sirens blazing for no apparent reason.

Zanzibar turned out to be much more than a bar, it's a dance club. There was no street parking around for several blocks, and the parking garage wanted $7. So, I gave up on WiFi for the night and headed to the Capitol.

I was quite impressed. This is, after all, the place from the TV. I tried to take a picture of the Washington monument from the steps of the Capitol, but I was interrupted by a Capitol Building cop who asked if I had a tripod permit. Since I didn't, I had to move down the steps and across the street. Despite that, it was pretty cool being mostly all alone there.

Posted at 09:55 AM | Comments (0)

Balto

Baltimore seemed OK for a smallish, flat, gritty East Coast city. At least based on the 1/2 hour driving tour I took.

It supposedly has a few large ships, although all I saw was a Coast Guard cutter. It even has a Hooters.

In a desperate attempt to escape the flatlands, one can apparently take a balloon ride over the city. It's tethered from below so they can't get too far away, and it goes about as high up as the elevation of Riverside Drive in Griffith Park.

Baltimore has several fine old brick buildings. Unfortunately, the town elders seem to have little taste and have not passed restrictive signage ordinances. Many of the fine buildings are covered with garish signs and the like.

The worst of all was the Squidport Power Plant, a five-storied brick building which appears to be a half-assed attempt at restoration and multi-use development. The huge Barnes & Nobles, ESPN Zone, and Hard Rock Cafe signs were quite inappropriate against such a building.

There appeared to be many other tourons here for some reason or other, as well as a few hot Balto babes.

Finishing my tour, I drove to Washington, D.C.

Posted at 09:54 AM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko is coming to D.C.

If you're a D.C. blogger or bloggee, get in touch. abuse at tolstoy dot com.

UPDATE: There must be something wrong with my mail server or something. None of the messages I sent out to D.C. bloggers and blogging groups appear to have been delivered. Because, if they had, I'm sure I would have received replies, right? While there might be other explanations, you'd think I would have gotten just one reply, no?

It's not like, say, West Coast bloggers should remember this and return the favor to any visiting East Coast bloggers looking for help. We're better than that, and we need to show others the way.

UPDATE 2: Standing above the rest, Jim Henley of Unqualified Offerings indicates that he would have met with me except he was doing a reenactment in the Shenandoah Valley the last couple of days.

Posted at 06:08 PM | Comments (0)

Post #810, in which I try to say good things about Philly

But, first a bad thing. The traffic here - at least in certain parts - is horrid. Trans-L.A. horrid. I got off the freeway (676?) near downtown Philly at the Broad Street exit. Admittedly, that was a wrong turn: instead of going "West," I should have gone "East." However, it was just northwest of where I wanted to go: from 16th St. to 4th St., and down less than eight blocks. It took me almost 45 minutes to get where I was going and find a parking space. Yes, you read that right: it took 45 fucking minutes to go less than 2 miles. A couple days before, I had been heading south on the 476 (?), and it was completely clogged. Even the 405 or the 110 move, if slowly.

That said, the area with the cobblestone streets was fairly easy to drive through, and I was able to find parking there twice.

Philly has several attractive old buildings, but, when I drove to Fairmount Park and saw the Art Museum, I almost, well, let's just say I was pretty impressed. That area of Philly makes L.A. look like a pile of puke. Seriously, we've got the Griffith Park Observatory, and we've got, well, OK, so we don't have too many impressive public edifices.

Fairmount Park is an oasis of greenery and water; supposedly at night the upper classes light their boat houses so that the plebes might enjoy the spectacle, but I wasn't there at that time. The general area is very green and much better looking than anything in Larchmont or Hancock Park.

Based on beta supplied by the kind lady at the visitor center, I visited the Wissahickon area of the park. Thankfully, the road to the park went down to a little canyon, making up for the flatness of Philly when I started biking up the road in search of rocks to climb. I didn't find any, but they're supposedly in the area. I got to the top of the road - probably not far from Philly's highpoint - and cruised back down. Is this all there is vis-a-vis the gain of elevation? Unfortunately so. But, it was quite green and pretty.

The next day I took the touron tour of Independence Hall.

Unfortunately, I was strangely unmoved by the Liberty Bell and the tour of Independence Hall; I didn't even bother to take out the camera. In contrast, I was truly interested in Lincoln's desk. While I'm more interested in the Revolutionary than the Civil War, perhaps it's because in some ways I'm an Illinoisan and in no way am I a Philadelphian.

But, a large part of it is has something to do with the presentation and the presence of other tourons. The new section with the Bell is, well, horrible. It's like one of the most treasured symbols of our country has been placed in a shopping mall.

There it sits on a concrete stand against several windows overlooking Independence Hall. Couldn't they have created something either more modern, or less? Is this really the most realistic setting for a bell? Aren't bells in, like, bell towers or something? Couldn't they have at least tried to recreate a more bell tower-like atmosphere?

That and my fellow tourons immediately whipping out their disposable cameras to take shots of each other with the bell in the background was quite offputting.

Independence Hall wasn't much better; perhaps if I'd had more time to let it sink in, or perhaps if there had been fewer fellow tourons present I might have been as impressed as I should have been.

For many there, the biggest news was that Nicholas Cage was filming a Disney film in the area. They were doing something in the bell tower. That's the same one that members of the general public can only visit once per year and by paying $30. But, that's OK, because in this film Nic saves the U.S. by finding a map to buried treasure written on the back of the Declaration of Independence or something like that, so it's good publicity for the nation.

I didn't see Nic, but those of us in line for the Independence Hall tour gawked at his stunt double who rushed past us in an apparent attempt not to be noticed.

Later, in one of my various turn-arounds and get-losts, I got off the 95 at Allegheny I guess in the area of the docks. I immediately felt a bit at home, although I also kept a good watch on my wallet. I got called "hon" by the lady at the gas station. It appeared to be a mostly white, working-class neighborhood filled with a few Polish shops. I felt a bit of deja vu.

Unfortunately, I missed South Philly; rumor or speculation has it that Lonewacko might have found himself a nice, non-big-haired, non-connected Janeane type there.

On the way out of town, I ran into a guy from South Philly selling roses roadside. Apparently, there are jobs Americans will do, and, as he told me, there are plenty of native Philadelphians to do them. Those who told you otherwise are, well, lying as usual.

Even further south, I stopped at the Claymont, Delaware Boston Market. Their cornbread was kept in a warmed serving tray, and was warm enough to melt butter.

Posted at 07:31 PM | Comments (0)

I'll be blogging live from Philadelphia

Today, Wednesday October 15 2003, between about 4pm and 4:30pm, I'll be sitting out in front of Cosi's at 4th and Chestnut in downtown Philly, inviting passersby to guest blog in this very space.

I may have to move, so watch this space if I end up at a different location.

Philadelphians or visitors, bloggers or bloggees, all are welcome to meet me there.

UPDATE: 4:45pm: After about a dozen attempts to pass out flyers, I can tell this is going to be a bang-up success. 'Tis true, there is a very small amount of foot traffic at this location. And, I'd probably have much better luck near UPenn, where I might go next. However, the Lonewacko can just tell.

UPDATE 2, my first interview: "Lived here all my life. Great place. One of the best towns in the country. Lot of potential. I don't like the mayor. He's a nut. Him and brother used to fight other people in the council. The mayor owed a lot of money on gas bills, because he was a slum lord. It has the potential to be a cosmopolitan city. The old money is holding it back. The night life could be a lot better. The cops are out of touch, out of sync. They have a hard job to do, but they're out of sync with the community. The PALs (Police Activity Leagues) aren't open anymore." - according to Steve

UPDATE 3: Tired of the mostly cold reception at 4th and Chestnut, I've now moved to the Cosi's at 12th and Walnut. I'll be here for at least a few minutes.

UPDATE 4: This was supposed to be the looser part of town. Perhaps there isn't a looser part of this flat burgh. It's almost like they have slightly flexible steel rods welded to each side of their heads. (To be fair, a few people wanted to be interviewed, but they had good excuses: trains to catch, dinner dates to meet, stitches to get...) I gotta admit, the "my friend's gotta go get stitches" was a good one, and it did indeed look like his friend's hand was bundled up.

UPDATE 5: What would Huell Howser do? Well, even Ever-Friendly Huell would get tired of these people and leave like I did.

I've since figured out the problem. Whereas in Chicago the rods seem to be only half or three-quarter height, Philly is an older, more established city with its roots firmly in the 18th Century. Consequently, the rods there are a bit more complicated.

Although because most of these people were bundled up against the cold wind I couldn't tell that well, the rods seemed to be in a Y-shape, with the two arms of the Y on either side of their heads preventing them from looking off their beeline.

Now, for those of you who are saying, "But, Lonewacko, you intentionally set these people up to look bad. Who would stop to find out what a strange stranger in a Goretex jacket, olive shorts, and hiking boots was doing with the flyers and the laptop? Why, you look like a park ranger who was fired and has since taken up drifting. Who would want to be interviewed by you?"

Well, I'll tell you who: Angelenos, that's who. As I said about Chicagoans when I tried guest blogging there, if they were as adventurous as Angelenos, they wouldn't still be living where they are.

Posted at 10:06 AM | Comments (1)

"Hey Lonewacko, how do you maintain your peerless physique?"

Thanks for asking. Hiking, and lots of it. And, that means gaining elevation.

Thankfully, we/you Angelenos have it good. Just five minutes from Lonewacko's spiritual home is Griffith Park, with 50 miles of trails and gains ranging from 500' to 1200' of varying degrees of steepness.

Just a few miles further out lie the mighty San Gabriels, topped by Mt. Baldy (highest point in L.A. County) at 10,064'. Hikes in the San Gabriels have elevation gains up to 6000', and 2000' and 3000' gain hikes abound.

On a sunny weekend, dozens upon dozens of people - Angelenos and foreigners alike - take the tourist trail from the Griffith Observatory (as seen in Rebel Without A Cause) up to Mt. Hollywood, gaining 500', some while carrying babes in arms.

The highest point in the City of Los Angeles is Mount Lukens at 5076'.

Truly, while Los Angeles has Rampart and South-Central South L.A., and it is indeed mostly either basin or valley, it is also a wonderland of elevation gain.

On the other hand, the highest point in Philadelphia County is just 440'.

The highest points in the next county up are under 1000'.

I spoke with Steve at the EMS store near the University of Pennsylvania, and, while he generously provided much useful information, he also confirmed my worst fears: in order to gain some elevation around here, one must drive a great distance.

So, starting at around 2:30pm, Lonewacko started on his journey north to Bucks county, in an attempt to get to one of the highest points thereof (as linked above).

I'll just cut a long story short. Lonewacko drove not a great distance, but it sure took a long, long time. Certainly, taking what looked like it might be a semi-rural highway but was instead a stop-and-go suburban street was a real bad idea. Taking the turnpike (and paying the tolls) would probably have saved a great deal of time. Lonewacko had already driven through Philadelphia's charming ghetto the night before, so this time he decided on a freeway route out of Philadelphia. Where in Los Angeles we/you have freeways crossing hither and yon, there was no freeway going Lonewacko's way so he had to go left, go up, go over and finally get on the aforementioned suburban street. (Some might cavil that other than the 110, the 105, and the 10, there is no freeway cutting directly across South L.A., which is similar to the case described above).

So, while Lonewacko considers what he's seen so far of Philadelphia to be rather attractive, the chances to gain elevation here are quite abysmal.

UPDATE: Just to make this painfully clear, one would need to stack the highest point in Philadelphia County on top of itself almost 23 times in order to be as tall as the highest point in Los Angeles County.

Twenty-three times.

Posted at 08:49 PM | Comments (0)

New Jersey: it's not all bad

I'm sure there are good things I could say about New Jersey. For instance, Lonewacko's dream girl Janeane Garofalo is from here. Then, there's the state high point which he bagged just a few days ago. I'll list more good things about New Jersey at the end of this post, but first let's deal with the bad things:

Maple Shade NJ is a mean little stop on the highway somewhat reminiscent of one of the hellholes of the East Bay (as in Bay Area) such as Union City but without the nice view of hills. As of 9pm on a Sunday, all of the big box stores and open air shopping centers had become a ghost town of giant signs and boxes. As far as food there is concerned, what you do is your own business, but in the unhappy event that Lonewacko finds himself here again, he will stay as far away from the "Great Taste" Chinese restaurant as possible.

Others (of course) have a bad opinion of New Jersey as well: here's the google search for '"New Jersey" armpit'.

Here's 'New Jersey: The armpit of America'

And, here's '10 Things I Hate About New Jersey (Part II)'

And, here's 'New Jersey: Let's be Corruption-Free in 2003'

UPDATE: CorkScrewed of Cherry Hill? If L.A. is the land of wannabe stars and starlets, New Jersey must be the land of wannabe franchises.

Posted at 07:51 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko extends YDS, bags peak with new "Class 7" designation

The reader is, no doubt, familiar with the Yosemite Decimal System ("YDS")*. Earlier today, Lonewacko bagged the highpoint of Delaware, and has thereby extended the YDS to include a new class: Class 7. "Class 7" is the same as Class 1, but with the added risk factor not of falling, but of being hit by a car.

Delaware's highest point is located on a fairly fast and busy two-lane road, Ebright Ave. The actual high point is (supposedly...) located on private property in a trailer park across the street from the sign above. Lonewacko decided to do it the legal way, and just walked up and down the public street on either side the road and either side of the sign. Then, just to add a bit of work, he ran down the yellow line in the middle of the street from one end of the bump in the road to the other. Thus the new Class. Traffic was a bit light when he did that, but any neighbors watching no doubt wondered what was going on. In any case, Lonewacko believes he attained the highest legally accessible highpoint. He also believes that visiting the "real" highpoint might endanger future efforts to gain legal access to it; c.f. Rhode Island. (RI's highpoint will be accessible on Sunday, but since that's a few hundred miles to the north, and since Lonewacko already visited it a few years ago, he probably won't be doing it again this time.)

The GPS reading at the sign was N39 50' 9.1"/W75 31' 8.1" at an elevation of 451', bearing in mind that no GPS is 100% accurate.

Lonewacko would also like to give a big shout out and props to the young ranger lady who gave him directions to the summit. He had thought that the highpoint was not near Wilmington, but near Dover. The only reason he got off the freeway was to use the manly facilities, and he decided to check out Brandywine Creek State Park at the same time. He was surprised to learn that he had accidentally gotten fairly near the highpoint.

Posted at 08:53 PM | Comments (1)

I love couches

October 10, 2003 MOUNT POCONO, PA - The Poconos? In Lonewacko's mind, that has a vague association with cheezy honeymoon palaces for Joiseyites. Which, indeed are here. As well as the Mount Pocono Golf Club in which Lonewacko is now sitting on a couch using their WiFi.

In addition to those above, this area is home to the Delaware Mountain Gap National Reserve, which does have some rock climbing, but it doesn't appear to be too very popular, and Lonewacko needs to move on currently.

So, temporarily at least, Lonewacko is leaving the land of the Poke-a-nose Pottery Shop ("Make your own!"), Gabel's, home of fairly cheap, small portioned resort food (ate there twice already), Dave's Unique Gifts, the local massage parlor with their all-Asian staff (didn't visit), and the local porno shop (didn't visit).

Lonewacko will not miss the huge traffic jam on the 611 through Stroudsberg, which is apparently caused by the 20,000 or so local residents - many newcomers - who commute from here to NYC.

Posted at 09:14 AM | Comments (0)

NJ's high point

As predicted in the previous message, I bagged the highest point in New Jersey yesterday. The only difficulties were a few large flocks of ladybugs.

Posted at 09:06 AM | Comments (0)

"Lonewacko to bag the top of New Jersey"

October 9, 2003: "That peak is mine" Lonewacko intoned while pointing his ice axe in the general direction of High Point, New Jersey (1803'). "None shall challenge my hegemony over the peaks of the flatlands!"

I'll probably be doing this today, as it's only about 50 miles away. Unfortunately, that means I'll be leaving this area, and without passing out the flyers referred to in the previous post. I might be back, however.

I'll also unfortunately be passing by NYC. The kind folks at nycbloggers.com apparently didn't get the email I sent a few days ago asking for help; or, maybe they're feverishly working on my request. The blogosphere comes through again.

In any case, I'll be visiting Philly and possibly the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area in search of some rock climbing possibilities. Unfortunately, it appears to be a resort area like the one I'm in now, and the prices appear to be high. So, I might not stay long.

UPDATE: OK, OK, so I blogged too soon. nycbloggers.com indicate that while they can't send emails to all their members (understandable), they can make this very blog their featured blog during my visit (commendable). Unfortunately, I'm now in the Poconos and moving south, so I probably won't be visiting NYC this trip.

Posted at 05:52 AM | Comments (0)

"I'm a starving satirist and social commentator. And, I'm currently in the Mid-Hudson River Valley region of New York State. Where can I find a target-rich environment?"

New Paltz!

October 8, 2003: If you're looking for targets for your stinging social commentary and satire, New Paltz is truly a target-rich environment. In Kingston, I picked up a copy of their local free rag, the Chronogram. It has a glossy cover and nice paper inside; other than that, it's pretty much the LA Weekly without the transsexual prostitute ads, but even more far gone:

If the first Iraq war was named Desert Storm, the second might be called Perfect Storm. The run-up to the 2003 war witnessed an extraordinary convergence of factors that produced near perfect journalistic participation in the Bush administration propaganda operations... [etc. etc. etc.]

Then, comes a section devoted to "Whole Living."

In all his travels, Lonewacko has never seen a higher per-capita rate of holistic health practioners and other spiritual professionals. Perhaps on a neighborhood basis in Santa Monica, West L.A., or WeHo we might be able to find an equal rate, but I doubt it. Where the heck did all these people come from? Who are their clients? The local landed gentry, gone soft and in search of spiritual awakening? Visitors from "The City?" Lonewacko will attempt to find out. "Ms. S.", who Lonewacko met in the parking lot of a local grocery store, thinks I'm overstating it, but I don't think so. This is truly an anomaly of demographic proportions.

New Paltz even has a Green Party mayor.

From the addresses given in the paper, Woodstock looks like it's along the same lines as New Paltz, but Lonewacko didn't visit that fine burgh. However, based on information supplied by "Ms. S.", he just might.

When he stopped at a local laundrette to buy soap, Lonewacko asked someone else about these practioners. "I'm probably asking the wrong person." "No" came the reply. "Holy Jaysus, have I stumbled upon a holistic health practitioner doing her laundry?" I wondered to myself. Needless to say, this was not going to be a Greenspun moment. Retorting my sneer, she said, "It's probably because this area is more intellectual than most." Ouch, that got me. "But, even Berkeley or West L.A. don't seem to have as many of these fine professionals per capita as your fine burgh" I Huelled back. "It's probably because of the mountains." "But, those aren't real mountains" I snorted. (OK, they are real mountains, they just aren't CO or CA mountains.) "Yes, I know they aren't real mountains and I don't call them that, but they fit the definition of mountains." And, she left with her laundry, leaving Lonewacko even more confustigated than before.

Lonewacko also learned through another source that the Woodstock of lore didn't take place in Woodstock, but took place 20 miles to the south.

Lonewacko is also considering a special project. It will be difficult to offend the New Paltz Chamber of Commerce and the Green Party and all the rest all at the same time, but Lonewacko might give it a try even though Lonewacko wants to start moving south as quickly as possible. Even though he has the feeling that it'd be like riding a motorbike through an orchard shoveling low hanging fruit into a large basket, it still might be fun. Stay tuned.

Posted at 08:34 PM | Comments (0)

The Shawagunks

October 8, 2003: Are you looking to rock climb to the top of a cliff that's not a real peak in a less-than-wilderness setting about as populated as Griffith Park?

Well, look no further than the Shawagunks, or the "gunks" for short. It's not that they're bad from a climbing perspective; most of the routes are probably beyond even the capabilities of the mighty Lonewacko. Yet, there is such a thing as esthetics. In Joshua Tree, you're in the middle of a beautiful desert, and there aren't that too many people around. Or, at least there's room to move.

On the other hand, the Shawagunks are a several-miles-long cliff, and a carriage road runs below the cliff and provides easy access. Walking less than a mile along the carriage road, Lonewacko saw several bikers and walkers and over a dozen climbing parties, and that was on a weekday. One only imagines what it's like on a weekend.

Once again, the climbing there is probably great, and it does look like fun. However, and, bearing in mind that Lonewacko only saw part of it, it doesn't appear to be the wilderness experience or the chance to bag a named peak that some - such as Lonewacko - might prefer. Despite that, Lonewacko might try to find someone here who could give him a toprope belay up something easy.

Lonewacko would rather not pay a guide service to provide the belay, as they're rather expensive. I briefly stopped in at the EMS climbing school in Gardiner, and, while Lonewacko hasn't climbed under their tutelage, they seemed OK.

Lonewacko also stopped in at Rock and Snow in New Paltz. Lonewacko usually stops in at outdoors stores to get local information, as the people there are usually well-informed as well as being, er, laid-back. Unfortunately, the guy at Rock and Snow wasn't that helpful, and seemed not to have any information about, for instance, cheap motels outside of New Paltz. He was also a bit huffy. So, Lonewacko won't be shopping at their store any time soon. Note that EMS sells climbing gear as well, even if they don't have as large a selection as the other store.

The ladies at the New Paltz Chamber of Commerce were similar. Attracted by the highway sign promising tourist information, Lonewacko stopped by. Don't you make the same mistake. They had no information on businesses that were outside of New Paltz and/or not members of The Chamber, and they seemed to regard Lonewacko like the po' hiker that he is. Next time I'll wear my Dockers and my Topsiders and inquire about moving there, that'll get their attention.

Through asking enough people, Lonewacko has finally determined some of the answers the New Paltz Chamber of Commerce was unable to answer. Namely, there are no cheap-but-clean motels in the area. The cheapest was the Balmville north of Newburgh at $45. But, bear in mind that Lonewacko didn't even bother looking at the proferred room. The 30-something lady working there was from an Americanized East Indian, and she seemed like it might not be a complete dump. But, Lonewacko only had a two minute visit there and cannot vouch for it in any way. Note also that that's only a few miles north of the northern edge of Newburgh, and one should see the previous post for more information about that fine metropolis.

Even the campgrounds here are expensive: $30 for a frigging tent site. Apparently, I can "enter Kentucky" (in the words of one of Lonewacko's sources) by going to the other side of the Shawagunks, where things get a bit cheaper because hordes of tourons and NYCers don't go there. I might do that tomorrow, or I might move on.

Posted at 08:08 PM | Comments (0)

"Where can I buy crack in the mid-Hudson River Valley region of New York State?"

Newburgh!

"Where can I get a cheap hooker and a no-tell hourly motel in the mid-Hudson River Valley region of New York State?"

Yes, Newburgh!

October 7, 2003: The section of 9 between the 84 and Poughkeepsie looked like, well, Hawthorne Blvd. through Torrance: a wide highway with shopping centers, gas stations, and the like on either side. Not that good, but not that bad either, as Lonewacko likes his services. Unfortunately, Lonewacko didn't have the time to check out Poughkeepsie, as it was dark and he wanted to find a place to stay. Crossing over the Hudson on the Mid-Hudson Bridge, Lonewacko soon find himself driving on 9W south through a "settled rural" area: a series of empty areas followed by a gas station here or a market or a bar there. He stopped at a Chinese restaurant at a small shopping center in Marlboro; it was actually fairly good.

Then, Lonewacko saw a few things he wasn't expecting.

Like, motels advertising hourly rates and before-5pm rates. "What the heck are these doing out here?" Lonewacko thought to himself. There are no big cities around, where could be the prozzies that would cause such hourly arrangements to be used?

Lonewacko asked someone, and was directed to go check out downtown Newburgh.

Holy Moses Malone!

The last thing Lonewacko was expecting to find just a few miles from a country road was a small city complete with a non-historical recreation of the South Bronx. While I saw areas like this in Chicago, and I've seen plenty like it in L.A., I really wasn't expecting it in this setting. Don't get me wrong, Lonewacko had to drive a couple miles into Newburgh to find the South-Central area, but, even so, it seemed quite a bit out of place. Apparently, Newburgh has been taking it on the chin for 50 years or so, and it looks like it. Bricks and yarn were big there, but the companies have since moved on, leaving some of the residents to engage in other forms of commerce. (Lonewacko did not, of course, do a complete survey of the city, so some parts might be OK.)

Other parts of the greater area have also experienced large losses of jobs. For instance, IBM brought 7000 engineers and such to Kingston a few decades ago; five years ago they closed down their operation there. Despite that, Kingston, or at least the waterfront area thereof, appears to be doing OK.

Posted at 07:54 PM | Comments (3)

In the footsteps of Al Sharpton

I (thankfully) exited Connecticut and entered the next state over, New York, on the 84. Looking at the map I realized I had the opportunity to drive through Wappingers Falls, so, naturally, I decided to do so.

For a small town, WF, or at least the main street portion of it, doesn't look that bad. Shame, shame on the Right Reverend Al for besmirching the name of that fine community!

The ladies at the Grinnell library were quite helpful in answering my touron questions; one of them was right up Lonewacko's dark alley, albeit a bit too young and con boyfriend. I asked them and another person, "Why would someone from L.A. specifically be sure to visit WF?" Well, quite unfortunately, l'affaire Tawana was not the first thing they thought of, or even the second or third. Apparently a lot of time has passed and, despite still being mentioned occasionally on blogs and such, the Tawana and Al show appears to not be the first thing in most people's minds there. In fact, it appears they might be able to even joke about it.

So, my last minute thought that it'd be fun to pass out Al Sharpton for President bumper stickers wouldn't have quite the effect that I originally thought it might. So, I moved on and across to the west side of the Hudson in search of cheap lodging.

Of note also is that WF is in Dutchess County, which leads the nation in cases of Lyme disease: 14,000 reported cases so far. They've just decided to start fumigating the local deer.

Posted at 07:50 PM | Comments (0)

Across Connecticut

[This is a housekeeping entry; see the next entry or the one two back for the real excitement.]

October 6, 2003: After his special guest appearance at BloggerCon, Lonewacko drove through Connecticut as quickly as possible. He was on his way to visit the rock climbing areas in the Shawagunks about 100 miles north of NYC.

I had already visited the highest point in CT a few years back so there wasn't much else of interest. I briefly got off the freeway in Hartford and then again in Westbury, but, after being unable to answer the question I immediately asked myself ("Why?") I quickly got back on the road.

The Boingo Wifi locations at the Doubletree in Hartford Locks and at the Dolce Heritage in Southbury both worked. However, I had previously called the Hartford Locks location and asked if I could use their WiFi service. They had told me that only guests or AirPort subscribers could use the service. I called Boingo and told them what I'd been told; they told me that they had an agreement with AirPort and that I could use the service. So, while I was able to sit in Double Tree lobby and connect, it's worrisome that they'd never heard of Boingo or its agreement with AirPort.

Posted at 07:36 PM | Comments (2)

The Maine posts

I spent almost a couple weeks in Maine, and I pretty much enjoyed it up there, all things considered. I've already posted a little about the trip, and I have several more posts to go.

However, in the interest of efficient blog administration, I've decided to skip forward to the present day to try to keep this blog as current as possible. I'll fill in the gaps later.

I also biked into (gasp) Canada, specifically the almost all francophone Edmonston across from northern Maine. That's just one post but will be included with the Maine posts.

Posted at 07:25 PM | Comments (0)

Canada off U.S. soil!

Since I'm getting Instalanched, now's a good time to give a preview of a longer post.

Briefly, Canada and the U.S. have a boundaries dispute involving a small island off the Maine coast, Machias Seal Island. My preliminary investigation reveals that this is U.S. territory, yet Canada thinks otherwise.

This is described here, and a longer treatment is here. U.S. sea captain Barnar Norton takes groups out to see puffins there during the summer; I briefly spoke with him about this issue.

And, most importantly, you can contact Canada's PM here. Tell him: Canada off U.S. soil!

Posted at 07:17 AM | Comments (1)

I'm at BloggerCon...

I'm passing out these flyers to the 50 or so people still here. It describes my new service:

MEET A BLOGGER

Blogging superstar Lonewacko just Blogged Across America: he drove from Los Angeles to BloggerCon 2003, blogging all the way. Read about his adventures at lonewacko.com/blog.

Now, through this exclusive offer, Lonewacko is available for interviews or to speak to you or your group about his historic journey. Join Lonewacko at the forefront of envisioning the futurescape of blogging and of the blogosphere.

Whether you're a "newbie," or whether you'd like to learn about leading-edge issues such as WiFi-enabled live guest blogging, aggregated standards-compliant mo-blogging, how your enterprise can become the expert consumers' turn-to information source, or how to access the leaders of the emergent blogging community, Lonewacko is here to help.

Lonewacko is available for interviews, speaking engagements, trade shows and conferences, store openings, events, corporate and enterprise teambuilding, and more.

Please refer to the following chart for his current speaking and interview rates:

Interview (via phone, FAX, text messaging, or face-to-face meatspace):
$5 per minute (20 minute minimum)

Interview (via email or instant messaging):
$1 per word (100 word minimum)

Conferences, Speaking Engagements and other Events:
$500 per day plus $250 per appearance-hour

*Fees do not include expenses. 50% surcharge for national media. 50% surcharge for difficult questions. Rates slightly higher in Canada. No personal checks.

lonewacko.com/blog
4470 Sunset Blvd. #377
Hollywood, CA 90027
323-993-7240

Memorable! Magical! Memetical!

UPDATE: Oliver Willis not only took one of the flyers, he shook my hand! Of course, he kept moving and didn't say anything to me, but, maybe next BloggerCon.

Posted at 12:41 PM | Comments (3)

Meet me at BloggerCon 2003!

Lonewacko will be making a special guest appearance at BloggerCon this Sunday October the 5th.

I'll be available for interviews throughout the day (probably from about 11am on). The flyers I'll be passing out will have more details, including a fee structure for interviews or personal appearances.

See you there!

Posted at 07:20 PM | Comments (0)

She said "wicked"

Sep. 22, 2003: As I was driving towards Mt. Washington, I saw these black plumes of smoke high up the mountain, and I couldn't figure out what they were from. A forest fire above treeline? Some strange weather phenomenon? Then I remembered the cog railway, a century-old train system that goes to the top of the mountain. In order to be able to climb (or at least get to the top of) three New England summits on consecutive days, I considered taking the train, and then earning the summit on another day.

The cog railway is about six miles from the Mount Washington Hotel, so, after basking in the aura of the Bretton Woods room, I went up to the railway depot.

The wickedly cute young lady behind the counter liberally sprinkled her conversation with the word "wicked," something I found quite interesting. It was like an SNL sketch, done live.

She tried to put the best face on the railway: it's a national treasure, it's just soot that the thing is spewing out near and far, all the cars on the auto road release much more pollution than the railway, it brings in money to the local economy. I'm not surprised about the latter, as a round-trip ticket costs $49.

However, I decided not to take the train. Even if magical mountain gnomes wisk the soot away before it even falls to ground, I still consider it an eyesore that ruins the view for miles around. I heard two unconfirmed reports that they might switch over to another power source within the near future, so that shouldn't be as much of a problem. However, see this older report ("Cog railway to remain steam") that says no change is planned.

I found others who agreed that while the train does bring in money, it's also unsightly. However, they didn't know who was the local busybody leading the anti-cog forces.

I stopped in at a couple of the climbing schools in the area, and took a look at the local climbing area. It was impressive, but I decided not to do anything because a) I didn't want to spend that much money, and b) I'm a peak-bagger, and there's no real peak to get to the top of.

I was thinking that my big Blogging Across America tour was going to end in New Hampshire, but at the last moment I decided to leave Mt. Washington temporarily and go check out Maine.

Posted at 07:33 PM | Comments (6)

Oh Gawd, now I'm going to get google hits for "Lyndon LaRouche"

Sep. 22, 2003: After Littleton, Lonewacko drove himself to the Mount Washington area to check out the possibility of climbing it. Along the way, I saw the sign announcing that the Bretton Woods Monetary Conference ("BWMC") was signed at the Mount Washington Hotel, so I decided to make the pilgrimage and see what all the fuss was about.

For some reason, I have an association between Lyndon LaRouche and the BWMC. I don't know all that much about LaRouche, but I did photograph some LaRouchians trying to take over one of the pro-Saddam peace rallies back in L.A. However, I think Lyndon is either for or against the BWMC or he believes it should have been modified in some way or other.

Whatever the great man believes, the Conference was held in the room pictured above at the Mount Washington Hotel (pictured here). The helpful and attractive concierge gave me a complete dossier on the Conference, but I haven't managed to work my way through it. Apparently a lot of people come there just to see the room. They're probably part of some tour or something that includes a private meeting with Milton Friedman.

Posted at 07:13 PM | Comments (0)

Littleton, NH

Sep. 21, 2003: After Mt. Mansfield, I took the 2 through St. Johnsbury VT and Littleton NH. In St. Johnsbury I stopped for a slice of pizza and found to my surprise a fellow traveler: a college-age kid who'd been in 43 of the states, and who'd driven across the U.S. in six days. Despite that, he chose to live in St. Johnsbury, apparently because he's a snowmobiler. I was pressed for time, otherwise I'd have found out more.

I spent the night at the International Motel in Littleton. If you're really, really hard up, and they have a coupon in one of the traveler's magazines, consider it. But, only if your tent has a leak or something.

Littleton has a touristy side complete with a quaint downtown. It also has a beaten-down and stomped-on side, which was near the motel and the local Wal*Mart. I was unable to ascertain the main industry employing most of the empty-eyed residents, but somehow they keep on keeping on. Overall, it's a drive-past town.

Posted at 06:58 PM | Comments (2)

Vindication on Mansfield

Sep. 21, 2003: I tried to get up Mt. Mansfield (Vermont's highest point at 4393'), a few years ago. As I did then, I took the gondola up. There were no carnie-related issues as there were last time, in fact, they were quite helpful. I hereby withdraw my earlier characterization. Even Stowe shall escape my poison keyboard; I didn't find it quite as odious as last time.

In the parking lot at the gondola, I saw an attractive, 30-quelquechose Canadienne who unfortunately made it up top while I was still packing. I also saw a lady possessing one of the most incredible tuchises ever. It was like a ziggurat mounted on her backside. I just stared and stared. She was with her bike and with an older couple I took to be her parents, although I think it was bicycling that did it because her mom's hindquarters weren't like hers that much.

Anyhoo, back to the hiking. Unlike the last time, the Cliff Trail was clear of ice and snow. It's a short but steep 2nd or 3rd class scramble up to the Long Trail, which then goes to the summit. It involves stepping over a few 10' or so deep gaps that it wouldn't be good to fall into, as well as crawling through a couple gaps in the rock. However, it was fairly short and easy and I was able to return on it mostly hands-free by taking it slowly. Supposedly, there's a longer version of the Cliff Trail which doesn't go directly to the Long Trail below the summit. That longer version branches off above the gondola, and goes south to join the trail from the top of the Auto Road. That version involves some ladders, and it's probably similar to Arcadia's Precipice Trail which will be covered in a future post. I didn't take it because I didn't have much information on it, I was alone, and it was a bit late in the day.

As on Mt. Marcy, there were several Canadians besieging the peak. No sing-a-longs, but lots of loud talking. And, tons of normal Americans who had taken the Auto Road to almost the top and then hiked the rest of the way.

I enjoyed the view a bit, and left for New Hampshire.

Posted at 06:37 PM | Comments (0)

Bienvenue a Plattsburgh!

Sep. 20, 2003: After climbing Marcy, I drove to Plattsburgh, getting there at night. Unfortunately, there was some kind of swine grower's convention or lumberjack rodeo or some convention or other in town, and all the rooms were either too expensive or booked. Furthermore, I was dismayed to find that the highway signs in the Plattsburgh area were bilingual. Aren't we going a bit too far for our Canadian "friends?" Can't they wait until they get over the border for the bilingualism to begin? Not finding shelter, I boarded the ferry to Vermont. That's where I was going anyway, since I wanted to climb Vermont's highest point, Mt. Mansfield, the next day.

The ferry scared the holy bejeesus out of me, especially because it was night and I was right next to the railing separating me from Lake Champlain. I wanted to get out of the car, but I had this mental image of me falling over the railing. So, I locked the door and waited it out. It's not like I haven't been on boats before, but I don't think I've been on one at night.

There was a hot rod convention in Burlington, so I tented it at the Shelburne Campground after getting some useful beta from a Patt Morrisonesque motelier whose card is not immediately to hand.

Posted at 06:17 PM | Comments (0)

Mountain climbing is my job

Sep. 20, 2003: I clocked in at 10am, I slogged my way up the interminable trail to Mt. Marcy (New York state's highest point at 5344'), I ate lunch on the top, I hiked down, and then I clocked out at 5:30pm. The hike itself wasn't that bad, it was just, well, interminable. It's a total of 15 miles round trip, and about 3274' of gain. The first two miles go to a dam, and they seem to actually lose elevation, making the last two miles of the hike not so much fun. After the dam, it steepens out a bit, goes flat, steepens a bit, then you walk over some rocks and you're on the top. It's not that bad of a hike, and it goes through pretty terrain, but it is a long plod.

After all that work, it would have been nice to have a quiet, peaceful summit. Unfortunately, I arrived at the same time as a large group of French-Canadians. One of them shouted "je suis Canadian" or some such foreign phrase from the summit; later they joined in a group sing-a-long; throughout they were generally loud and annoying. Other Canadians don't know to yield to uphill hikers, but, of course, that's true of many red-white-and-blue Americans as well. However, I think many more "peace summits" are called for. Either that or we should climb their mountains this coming Molson Day (Oct. 13) and sing God Bless America after chomping down some Big Macs.

Ce post est egalement disponible en francais.

Posted at 05:49 PM | Comments (0)

Lake Placid

Sep. 19, 2003: I tried to get up to Lake Placid before dark, but I failed. However, "Ems" (see the previous entry) provided me with some useful beta on a low-priced motel there, the Saint Moritz. Because it was a Friday, they wanted $45 for a room, so I drove around a bit looking for something lower. I really wanted a room rather than tenting because I wanted to climb Mt. Marcy the next day.

However, even the Econolodge wanted the princely sum of $80. I found a couple mom & pop motels that were between the Econolodge and the Saint Moritz in price. However, none of the motels were flexible on the price. In fact, the very attempt to dicker seemed to cause them to take offense. "We're a family motel, we need to pay the staff, etc. etc. It's $50 plus tax, for $54.20. I'll make it $54, but that's it." Someone should pay Motel 6 to build a whole fleet of motels there, that'll show them.

As with the others, the gent at the Northway refused to bargain. Not only that, when I asked to see the room he refused my request on account of my rain-wettened boots and his clean carpets. I continued to try to bargain him down in what I and almost everyone else thinks is my happy friendly Huell Howseresque way, when he suddenly suggested that I find a room elsewhere and left the office. In a non-antagonistic way, I called him back and asked him what the problem was. He complained about my "bad attitude," and told me to leave or he'd call the police. He even picked up the phone. Well, rather than having to explain myself to the Olympic Ski Patrol and Gendarmerie, I left.

Based on my experiences with the local moteliers, I decided to spend as little money as possible in Lake Placid, and I tented it at the Whispering Pines campground. It was more like state park camping than a big open area at KOA, and, even though because of Hurricane Isabel it was a warm and wet night, it was still worth it. In fact, between patronizing the local mom & pop motels (especially the Northway) and sleeping in a local field, I'd take the field.

As for the rest of Lake Placid, it's a ski resort with a one or so mile main drag. Apparently, enough money wheels its way through there that it can support a Gap, an EMS, a few fashion outlets, and all the rest of the normal ski-resort-shops-and-appurtenances. I'd also like to give a big shout out to the golubushkis at the pizza place west of the EMS store and the band shell. They were quite friendly.

Posted at 05:29 PM | Comments (1)

The ever-expanding consciousness of Lonewacko

Via Blog

RE: Our conversation of Sep. 19, 2003 ("The Conversation")

Dear "Ems,"

    I'm sorry it took me so long to post about our meeting at the EMS store in Albany. As you can see, I'm not using your real name. ("EMS" store, "Ems," get it?) As you explained in The Conversation, you're a massage therapist, and if a bunch of your fellow long-distance hikers knew what you did, they might bother you for free or low-cost massages.

I wish you best of luck on your long, long hike. As you suggested, I took a look at abraham-hicks.com and thework.com. They are certainly most interesting sites.

However, the Lonewacko is not too very "spiritual." Furthermore, the Lonewacko is supposedly an INTJ. To cut a long story short, Lonewacko doesn't believe any of this crap.

Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it that way. I realize there are many many explanations for our universe. There may well be ghosts living among us. I may well be the reincarnation of, say, John D. Rockefeller. However, my thoughts are based in the here and now, the nitty-gritty of getting down the road a piece.

As for "hiker magic," that I can buy into. However, as we discussed in The Conversation, I still see it as a tit for tat kinda thing. If I give enough out, eventually I'll get stuff back. If I get something unexpected, giving something unexpected to someone else will repay my cosmic debt. While you may be correct about whatever it was you were trying to get to about vibes or something, I still see it in strictly mercenary terms. It's a zero sum game, this "hiker magic" thing.

As for the rest of The Conversation, I'm afraid because of the delay between The Conversation and this post, I've forgotten the nuances and details of it. Moreover, I was also distracted because I wanted to (finally) have a Greenspun moment with someone on my long lonely tour across the U.S. Yes, I realize I should do my own thing. However, the Greenspun thing is mainly a joke. Except for the part about me wanting to out-Greenspun Greenspun. If he's the king of web-logging-travel-writers, I want to be the fucking Pope. I also believe you have a "friend," and it wasn't like I was trying to find a way to get you out of the EMS store and into my capacious suite at the Schenectady Motel 6.

In any case, I wish you best of luck on your travels.

Yours in Christ,

Lonewacko

Posted at 05:16 PM | Comments (0)

I Blogged Across America

You'll note that the last entry took place 10 days ago, about the time I entered northern New England. Internet access here is extremely difficult, unless you stay at one of the few large hotels or have a monthly landline service of some kind. So, the blog is a bit out of sync with my current activities.

In any case, I'm currently in Bar Harbor, Maine, and I think I'm going to spend a day or two in Acadia National Park. Then, I'll go further south. Or, if the weather is right, I might try Katahdin.

In any case, yesterday I visited both Eastport Maine and West Quoddy Head Maine. The first is the easternmost city in the U.S., and the latter is the easternmost town and home to the easternmost point in the U.S.

Therefore, I have officially (more or less) accomplished my mission, and I have Blogged Across America.

Everything from here on is going back.

Posted at 06:01 AM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko has friends in high places

Sep. 19, 2003: Driving through Troy, I spotted the headquarters of the Tutunjian for Mayor campaign. Since I was having trouble finding the visitor's information center, and since I wanted to know where I could score some hummous, falafel, tahini, and all the other good things I had come to take for granted back in L.A., I stopped by.

I visibly winced when he said he was a Republican. Despite being a proud member of the VRWC, I'm uncomfortable meeting my fellow righties. I'd rather meet lefties, because a) the women are reportedly easier, and b) I enjoy baiting them. He also informed me that there aren't Zankous or Sevans in the Albany area. I concluded there are no large masses of Armenian women there either, so I moved on.

Posted at 05:56 AM | Comments (0)

Albany/Troy/Schenectady

Sep. 19, 2003: Albany is semi-OK, for a capital city that few go to unless they've got governance on their minds. It has some high-crime areas, and it also has an interesting area where I was able to buy two very greasy slices from a shop obviously owned by a devout Muslim at around 10pm. His enburkaed wife helped out, and he had a few posters praising Allah on the walls. It's too bad he wasn't selling falafel or hummous, but the pizza wasn't that bad. Unlike many of the other areas Lonewacko has visited on his journeys, the area seemed to have a little bit of life, even though it seemed to degenerate not too far down the street. Unfortunately, Lonewacko doesn't know exactly where in Albany it is. The next day, I paid a visit to Troy, which despite having some nice old buildings had apparently been allowed to rot during the past few decades. There doesn't appear to be any old WASP money in the area, just local burghers. Schenectady is the home of GE and a company town.

Posted at 05:49 AM | Comments (0)

Getting across Pennsylvania

Sep. 18, 2003: I wanted to get to New England as quickly as possible, because I'd dawdled a bit in the towns in Illinois and elsewhere. On the way out of Bedford, I briefly stopped at the Tourist Bureau, but they were a bit parochial and didn't really have anything of interest. The Whisky Rebellion taking place there seemed to be the most well-known attraction. I briefly stopped outside Harrisburg. I passed the Hershey Highway. I'll leave that to prop comics, I'm much higher-brow. I passed the Mike Piazza International Birthplace Shrine. Then, I briefly stopped in Wilkes-Barre and watched the local cops investigate a punching incident. W-B has a Hummer dealership, so someone's doing OK. But, it looked like a bit of a dump, and the three-block-long downtown section wasn't of interest. On to NY, where I stopped at the helpful Tourist Bureau just over the border and south of Binghampton on the 81. On to Albany, passing by the National Soccer Hall of Fame in Oneonta. No communism for me, thanks.

Posted at 05:45 AM | Comments (0)

"Susan Poulin to present 'Franco Fry' at UMFK's Fox Auditorium October 5"

Fort Kent - On Sunday, October 5, 2003, actress-playwright Susan Poulin will present her critically acclaimed one-woman play 'Franco Fry (Or, Pardon My French!)' in a 1:00 p.m. matinee performance at UMFK's Fox Auditorium.

In 'Franco Fry,' native Mainer and Franco-American Poulin recounts her sometimes humorous, sometimes treacherous journey to reconnect with her Franco-American heritage and the French language. The play is presented in English, with occasional journeys into French.

Poulin, born in Jackman, spoke French until she was 3 years old. But after the family moved to southern Maine, they melted into the mainstream American culture of the 1950s and 60s.

When Poulin became an adult, she felt an 'ache' inside...

Posted at 07:33 PM | Comments (0)

Vers le nord avec Lonewacko

[All the other posts here are in English./Tous les autres posts ici sont en Anglais.]

"Ou sont les communities francophones?" j'ai inquirie de un few peuple a les bureaux touristiques et elsewhere. Oui, bien sur, j'ai wanted to brush up on my French. En Los Angeles, est no problem de trouver lieux ou on peut ecouter Spanish, j'ai wanted the meme chose en Maine. Selon de ceci, en quelque areas, presque de 70% des gens parlant francais chez soi. Ou sont les francophones? Mais oui, je veux seulement parler francais, lire francais, et ecouter francais. Oui, bien sur.

Le plupart de les communities sont en Maine presque de Quebec: Fort Kent, Ste. Agathe, Frenchville, i.t.d.

Alors, avec l'amitie interethnique dans mi corazon and un grosse lump dans mes pantalones, je m'est conduici vers le nord.

Unfortunately, the wonderland of Natalie Merchants dansant avec les pieds or autres nus was not to be found. Les gens la sont fermeurs, et les villes sont petites. Lonewacko a besoin de beaucoup et mas beaucoup de femmes, Lonewacko a besoin de milles et milles de candidates parce que Lonewacko has enough problems. Lonewacko a besoin d'un infrastructure. Il n'y a pas ni Barnes et Nobles ni 99 Cents Only Store. What am I going to do, hang out at the Feed and Seed? It's not like Lonewacko est going to get lucky donne un si petite numero de candidates.

Posted at 06:58 PM | Comments (0)

Maine?

I'm in Maine.

Maine?

The Lonewacko has heretofore known very little about Maine, mostly out of disinterest. It was all the way at the other end of the country after all. Wasn't it really actually part of Canada anyway? Lonewacko was apparently out of the loop, because not only do people live here, they apparently come here (in the summer) in droves. For some strange reason, that point is taking a long time to sink into my brain. There are actually other people here, it's not just trees and moose.

On the way up, I made a list of the things I knew about Maine:

- Steven King
- Katahdin
- Acadia National Park
- lobsters, trees, and water
- really bad weather
- the pant-suited, man-hating Jessica Fletcher
- L.L. Bean
- it's where the Bushes go on their summer vacations

I'll be here for a few days, then I'm heading south. I'll also try to post about what happened between Bedford PA and here now or within a few days. Meanwhile, enjoy this Maine overview.

Posted at 07:01 PM | Comments (3)

I have to go back to Mt. Davis?

BEDFORD, PA - Pictured above are, from the top:

- the view from Spruce Knob, the highest point in West Virginia

- Seneca Rocks, WV

- the smallest church in the U.S., near Silver Lake, MD

- the WV/MD border marker near the highest point in Maryland, Backbone Mountain

- Mt. Davis, the highest point in PA.

I dawdled a good bit in WV, so I didn't get to Mt. Davis until it was turning dark, and it was night by the time I got to the top. Unfortunately, I didn't find the absolute highest point, which, according to a gas station attendant, is on the top of a 6' high rock. Of course, I asked where it was after I got down. So, while I walked around the observation tower a bit, I might not have got the actual highpoint. It was pretty dark up there after all.

I'll have a more detailed trip report later, including commenbts on West Virginia, but while I'm thinking about it, the coordinates of the parking area for Backbone Mountain are approximately 39N 14' 49.1" by 79W 29' 33.6". The starting elevation is about 2730', making the actual hike up about 650' of elevation gain and not 750'. If, of course, my GPS was accurate.

Posted at 09:15 PM | Comments (0)

West Virginia: "It's not as bad as you feared"

Yes, that's right, I've made it all the way to Elkins, West Virginia. Why, I'm almost to the East Coast.

Regarding WV, put your preconceptions aside. I've been here already six hours, and I've not once been "jacked," robbed, marked as a tourist city slicker and tailed by toothless mountain folk in a '42 Ford pickup and run off the road, nor any other bad things. The people are generally friendly, and, despite driving in on the Robert C. Byrd Highway (D-WV), I haven't had to use my snood nor my papal denunciation even once.

Tomorrow, I'm going to go check out Seneca Rocks, and I might stay overnight if I intend to climb it. Or, I might just check it out and then get the highpoints of WV, MD, and PA, and then continue moving north. Blogging will be light, as the room I'm staying in doesn't even have three-prong outlets, and I'm paying extra to connect to my ISP through their 800 number.

Posted at 05:42 PM | Comments (0)

I'm the king of the flatland summits

Earlier today I bagged the highpoints of Indiana (1257') and Ohio (1550'). The tent area of the KOA Kampground where I stayed yesterday was nestled between a nice little pond and the ever-present noise of I70. So, I didn't get much sleep and I didn't feel up to going for a third, fourth, or even fifth in the same day. In actual fact, I don't think it would be possible to get the highpoints of PA, MD, and WV all in the same day unless you started at the Indiana highpoint at midnight.

I was very glad to get out of Indiana, and it's unfortunate that I just drove across Ohio without exploring it in more depth. The personalities of those I met seemed to change for the better once over the border, and the women, while not as outdoors fitness-oriented as those in Indy, were consequently more overall attractive. I was also heartened by the appearance of hills as I went east; Zanesville looked like an interesting small city worth a future visit should I be in the area.

I'm also happy to report that Wal*Mart is not the fearsome competitor some think them to be. According to a few employees of a superstore in Richland, IN and a secretary in Bellefontaine OH, Wal*Mart isn't trying to cut off the air supply of the more local merchants. Hooray for Wal*Mart!

Posted at 05:27 PM | Comments (1)

One circle, and a lot of holes

INDIANAPOLIS - "Indy," a.k.a. "The Circle City," looks OK for a flat midwestern town. But, if it's the 11th largest city in the U.S., we're in trouble. The per capita asshole population here seems to be greater than most other places I've visited on my tour.

The downtown area is small but looked semi-attractive. There seemed to be many joggers present, and the population appears to be more oriented towards outdoors recreation than elsewhere in the Midwest. That's perhaps explained by this being where the graduates of one of Indiana's "universities" go. In addition to young urban bumpkins and the indigenous population, it also seems to be a favorite getaway for yokels from neighboring states.

My impressions of Indy weren't helped by me getting kicked out of three different places. I was escorted out of the Centre mall because, even though I wasn't riding it, I had my bike with me. I wandered into one of their "museums" through an open, main entrance that had no sign about the museum being closed, yet I was asked to leave because it's closed on Monday. I later walked through an open door at the Indy zoo, and it turned out I wasn't welcome there either.

On the plus side, the city has several canals with bikeways that criss-cross the city, and it would appear to be fairly bike-friendly. While the canals aren't as wide and deep as the wonderful L.A. River, they also don't appear to be clogged with garbage and covered with graffitt.

But, overall, I'd rate this place as a dump, and my only regret is that doing a proper hit piece on it would require spending both time and money here.

Posted at 03:52 PM | Comments (1)

"Flyers are a Cacophonist's best friend"

INDIANA - So, I was trying to find guest bloggers by standing out in front of Cosi's cafe on Michigan in Chicago. I was holding up a sign that said "Free Blogathon." Almost immediately after setting up, I found what would be my single guest blogger. The rest of the people either worked hard to ignore me, or read the sign and then either smiled or looked at me funny. In any case, they kept walking. Occasionally I would try to quickly explain what I was after, but that didn't help. No one else even asked what was going on. That was even after I added a novel-length explanation to the other side of my sign: "Post your thoughts to my website. LIVE & FREE"

Certainly, many of these people were tourists - foreigners even - yet I think this also reflects badly to some extent on Chicagoans. In any fairly busy part of L.A., I would have been swamped with people at least trying to find out what "blogging" is. But, I guess that's why they live in Chicago and not California.

If there is a next time, I think I should print out some flyers explaining what's going on. Perhaps "Can I interview you for my Internet website?" might be a good tagline.

Posted at 07:22 PM | Comments (1)

Blogging live from Chicago

My first guest blogger is Doug, who took his baby for her first trip to the Art Institute, and "she's glad to be born in the year of the second Cubs/White Sox World Series." Also, "She's doing everything she can to overturn the Bush coup."

UPDATE: Other than Doug, the rods up these peoples' butts have rods up their butts. Things like this would never happen in L.A. First of all, they'd know what a blog is. Second, they'd actually come over and guest blog.

I'm going to make a quick trip to Mother Hubbard's at 5 W. Hubbard St., then I'm out of here.

UPDATE 2: I'm in Indiana, see the next entry.

Posted at 10:53 AM | Comments (0)

Chicago

I drove into the Chicago ourskirts on Thursday night, and Friday I went into the city. I started in the Loop, and then I went to a nearby area to visit a couple places that I vaguely remember from many, many years ago. Friday was quite an emotionally difficult day for me, and I still haven't quite got over it. One of the places I visited has been shuttered for a couple years, and will probably be demolished. The other, assuming I have the address correct, has been replaced with a school building. Visiting these places fills me with an intense sense of regret and other emotions that I'd rather just forcibly repress and lock inside.

But, enough of the maudlin Lonewacko, and back to the wacky insouciance that I use to mask the intense pain I feel every moment of every day.

I'm going to try blogging live from the Loop tomorrow. I'll set up the laptop, connect to a WiFi access point, and then invite passersby to guest blog, letting strangers write entries in this very space. If they're willing, I'll also post their pictures here. All live.

I'll first try this at the Cosi cafe at 116 S. Michigan at around noon or 1pm Central time, and if that doesn't work out I'll try a bar named Mother Hubbard's at 5 W. Hubbard. I'm awaiting manager approval on Cosi's, and I haven't even asked Mother Hubbard's yet. So, it might have to wait for another city.

UPDATE: I don't think he knows exactly what he's getting into, but EJ at Cosi just approved my request, so I'll be at the S. Michigan location between about 1 and 2pm on Sunday 9/14/03. When I'm asked to leave, I'll ask Mother Hubbard's if I can do it there. Then it's on to Indiana.

Posted at 11:32 PM | Comments (0)

Starved Rock State Park

Pictured above is French Canyon, at Starved Rock State Park about 80 miles west of Chicago. There are several small canyons about 50-100' deep, and all the trails on the tops of the canyons are actually board walks with handrails. Which, to a certain extent makes sense as there are a few direct vertical drops from the tops to the canyon below. However, somehow I don't think something with so many handrails should even be called a park; perhaps an arboretum would be a better term.

Posted at 11:24 PM | Comments (5)

Everything's normal in Normal, IL

Normal, Illinois is a smallish town coalesced with Bloomington, Illinois into Siamese twins of unrelenting Midwestern normalness. According to a local source (a hot little Gidget type who despite having received a Lonewacko: Blogging Across America card has not corresponded with me), the students at Illinois State University are quite an abnormal lot. A couple of them ride unicycles on the quad, and there are occasional SCA meetings behind the tennis courts.

Surely, there must be something more abnormal in Normal. My search brightened when I was directed to the three or four block older downtown section, home of a comic book store, various studenty type stores, as well as what is surely a Normal landmark, Mother Murphy's.

I've stepped back into a few 60s/70s flashback places (for instance, the Empowerment Project's old location in Santa Monica), but Mother Murphy's takes the prize. It's a head shop/record store that still proudly features an autographed photo of Tiny Tim back from when he performed there. It was just me and the two workers there in this second floor walk-up store, and I was already planning my escape routes in case they thought I was a narc because I was asking all these strange questions. Not to worry. They were both natives of Normal, and I wasn't the first person who had noticed the town's name. "Each year, five thousand students gather here and make fun of our town's name." While there, I also picked up a copy of the Post Amerikan, a "humanist" 10 page rag whose content can be guessed but not equaled by a satirical treatment. Perhaps I'll post one of the poems here in a later post.

The comic book store guys told me about a couple of the abnormal residents of Normal, including an 80-year-old prostitute and a drunk who thinks he's a sportswriter. However, they indicated that most of the abnormal people live in Bloomington.

According to Steven Westerdahl of Normal's Community Development/Downtown Renewal Department (pictured above holding a Lonewacko business card) the only thing abnormal about Normal is "efficient local government." I'll leave it at that.

P.S. Two of the reasons I stopped in Bloomington were a) Boingo indicates that they have a WiFi access point there, and b) to climb a silo.

As for a), the WiFi access point was non-operational. I'm very disappointed with Boingo, and I'll have more to say about that in a future post.

As for the silo, I had called ahead to the climbing gym asking if the owners (who are based in AR, not IL) would waive the fee in exchange for being reviewed here. When I got there, I learned that my application had been rejected.

The gym offers three things that are of interest: climbing inside a 60' silo, climbing a 100' outdoor wall, and rappeling 120' from the top of the building. Those all sounded interesting, but the rappel alone would cost me $50 plus, and doing all three would cost near $100. I took a look at the silo, and it seemed a lot more interesting on paper than in person. I watched someone climb to the top, and it would have been fun to do, but it was also a sweaty, claustrophobic environment. I decided to hold off.

P.P.S. The gym was the first place I stopped when coming into town. I entered via what I guess is the old route. The lady at the gas station, while nice, was a bit more like someone who would have been a nice biker chick from West Virginia. That's an unkind characterization, I'll think of a better one later. The neighborhood I passed through was a bit decrepit and semi-rural, much like I guess one would find where the silos are. It didn't look like the kind of place that would have its own climbing gym. I asked one of the workers there whether there were any "town and gown" conflicts. He didn't know what I meant, and he'd never seen An Officer and a Gentleman either. Once explained, he hadn't noticed any. But, as alluded to above by the gents from Mother Murphy's, apparently there are some. The Siamese twin towns became more of a bustling mini-metropolis as I went further north and east, and I could see how it could sustain a climbing gym.

P.P.P.S. While in Normal/Bloomington, my seat belt buckle failed, causing the latch to never stay in the buckle. I went to the Jeep dealership there, who didn't have the buckle in stock. So, I went to the Autozone and bought the special bit needed to get the buckle off, and I switched the buckles there in the Autozone parking lot. For a brief moment, I was living the normal, everyday life in Normal, Illinois.

Posted at 10:38 PM | Comments (1)

Shea's

My interview and pictures at Joe Shea's Route 66 museum can't do it justice, and it's already been covered many times. In his former service station he's collected various Route 66 memorabilia. He showed me various articles that U.S. and overseas newspapers had written about him, including one from the 2/17/02 LAT. His register contains the names of several people a day who come there, including many from Germany, Japan, and other faraway lands.

"Lots of good looking women from Brazil..." I said as he showed me where his some of his visitors came from. "They were mostly men. And here's one from Panama. She was a petite little pharmacist."

The idea of a petite little Latina farmacista sounded real good to me, but he thought she'd already moved on.

On the way out of town, a legal secretary/weathergirl/real estate agent type of blonde in a white Miata let me cut in front of her. Since Denver, I really haven't seen too many good looking women and, while she wasn't exactly my type, she did have a pretty face. Made even prettier by the fact that she was looking at me with a welcoming look. Or, at least it was curiosity or something. Like, she was wondering why I hadn't removed the cicadas stuck in my radiator.

Posted at 10:52 PM | Comments (0)

Looking for weird

While touring the Lincoln House, I noticed that a reporter and his cameraman were outside shooting. It turned out to be Jerry Lambert, News Anchor of Springfield's NBC affiliate News Channel 20. They were there to interview an NPS official about funding for the Lincoln exhibits.

"What are the main local stories? Controversies?"

"The main story is probably the budget..."

"Is there anything weirder, more controversial but not like that? You know, like weird."

"Well, there's a case involving racism in the police department..."

"No, I mean, weird. Light, not heavy. Like, who's the weirdest person in town?"

He mentioned a local political extremist wacko who's always running for office and goes to school board meetings. The image of interviewing the Melrose Larry Green of Springfield Illinois and giving him a forum for his 2000 word screed here flew threw my mind.

Unfortunately, they didn't know how to get in touch with him.

Another possibility was a black guy who runs a pirate radio station with a mix of music and politics. He sounded interesting too, but they didn't have any beta on him either.

As a backup, he suggested I check out the Lincoln Colored Home, which was one of the first orphanages for African-American girls. And, he and his cameraman raved about the Route 66 museum, which I had never heard of...

Posted at 10:46 PM | Comments (0)

The Land of Lincoln

Pictures from Lincoln's house in Springfield IL. That's the actual desk he used, not a replica. Which is kinda trippy when you hold up the ranger's tour thinking about it. As the ranger stated, the stereopticon shown in the middle picture was their version of the Internet. Making me kinda like one of the guys who made strange stereopticon drawings.

Posted at 10:41 PM | Comments (0)

I couldn't get across Missouri fast enough

Unfortunately, I had to spend a night there. Like working through sedimentary layers, MO gets down and dirty and pretty darn close to the unreconstructed hickdom frequently visible elsewhere in the midwest. The greenery and water is certainly attractive, and one can almost imagine Huck and Tom around the next bend. However, it's also home to things like the Ozarkland gift shop. I briefly stopped in Rocheport and saw one of the upper layers. That's home to a terminus on the Katy Trail, a "Rails to Trails" 250+ mile bike path running through MO. It featured an upper-scale restaurant with a few families and older folks munching on crabs. However, I didn't want to disturb anyone's dinner in search of a Greenspunian moment.

In Columbia, I stopped at the Alpine Shop and briefly spoke with their manager, Paul Lowry. Missouri is the Cave State, and I wanted to have a caving adventure. However, while both the Alpine Shop and the state of MO conduct tours of one of the more interesting caves in the area, the Devil's Icebox, the tours have to be scheduled in advance and there wasn't time. He suggested I check out the Graham Cave, Onondaga, and Meramec State Parks. I only had time for the first, which was OK, but it's mainly just an overhang. Meramec, despite being a paved tourist path, sounds interesting. Maybe on the way back I'll be able to do some of the caves.

Anyway, I got to St. Louis, dropped the bike, and took a tour of the downtown area. I took a few pictures of the arch but, other than that, St. Louis didn't exactly light my fire. I'd driven by the International Bowling Museum and Hall of Fame but, like other things hereabouts, I assumed that it had already closed at 5pm so I didn't even bother.

Posted at 10:31 PM | Comments (1)

No thanks, I already have one

Apparently, regional English in the eastern Colorado and Kansas areas dictates that one must say "Do you want a sack?" when one is, in fact, offering a "bag." Chicago seems to be using the correct "bag."

Posted at 10:23 PM | Comments (0)

The Pork Belt

The next morning, I decided to go check out KC. By this time, I had asked several of the fine residents of the eastern suburbs about this West Port. "All manner of weirdos go there" was the common refrain.

In search of my fellow weirdos, I decided to check it out. It certainly didn't look like Times Square to me, more like your standard artsy area inhabited by weirdos like me, but the kind who think twice about jaywalking.

While the area directly south of I70 (down the street to the west of McGee) was pretty rundown and desolate, when I got to around 40th street the area looked pretty good. Nice old brick apartment buildings with green areas. Most of the ones to the south were restored, but most of the ones to the north were in various stages of disrepair.

Many buildings were advertising lofts for rent, however, there appeared to be many more lofts than people who could ever inhabit them. I later drove around the desolate area looking for good shots. I thought I took some, but I can't find them now. However, from a photographic perspective if from no other, KC looks pretty interesting. In the words of an interviewee who asked that their shop remain nameless, "KC is known for its BBQ and its Chiefs. And, somewhat for its jazz. It's a dying city." I asked them about West Port's evil reputation, and how it compares to Hollywood or Berkeley. They told me there was no comparison, "it is the Midwest after all." Because most of the students in KC are there going to med school, they don't have time for Berkeley-style amusements.

On my way out of town, I took the elevator to the top of the Liberty monument which, at just $2, is a good value. The shots above are of the monument and the view looking toward Union Station in the foreground and downtown KC in the background.

Posted at 10:21 PM | Comments (0)

Converging on Greenspunness

The reader has, no doubt, heard of Philip Greenspun, author of the famous web journal Travels with Samantha. Basically, his dog dies, so he drives across America and Canada, chatting up and taking pictures of pretty women. The Lonewacko Blogging Across America tour is simply following in his giant footsteps across this great land. Tonight, in Independence MO, I finally had my first near-Greenspunian moment of the tour.

There are several Motel 6s in KC; rather than staying in an urban location and perhaps ending up in an area I didn't want to be in, I decided to go east to a more truck stoppy location. I stopped at one of the local fast food restaurants on the way. This restaurant is known by one name in Cali and another name hereabouts. I asked one of the workers, a pretty young blonde, about it, and she quickly rattled off various statistics about who bought whom when and what happened. "It's sad I know that."

It turns out she's going for her MBA, and she's a computer administration expert who, when she had gone back to the town she was from, had helped rid their computers from virii. She hadn't worked at that chain for a year, as she had started in a management training program at another chain. Originally, the second chain had been cool with her studies, but had soon started demanding that she work more and more time. Eventually, she quit and came back.

I eventually asked her where the "artsy" area was. She couldn't think of one, other than suggesting that there was a comedy club there. There might have been some confused over whether I meant "there" to be Independence or the whole KC area. However, she also mentioned an area called "West Port" in KC. She knew someone who'd been carjacked twice there. "Should I ride my bike through there?" "No" came the response. The other workers had no idea either, as they had no time nor interest in such things.

If not for the lack of various details, this was truly a Greenspunian moment. Those details include: getting a picture, getting a name, getting a phone number, giving a drive, etc. etc.

I did, however, go back the next day and, while she wasn't there then, at least I got her name.

Posted at 10:19 PM | Comments (0)

Lawrence

I briefly stopped in Lawrence KS, home of the University of Kansas, in order to take the picture for this post. I didn't like it too much. Kind of like Berkeley (or, more accurately, Westwood) but with the population replaced with farm boys and girls who, come Saturday night, do there what they used to do in their smaller towns: drive up and down Main Street. On to Kansas City.

Posted at 10:15 PM | Comments (0)

I embarrass myself in front of the Hubbards

After the Eisenhower Museum, I decided to get a few "confluences." Confluences are the points where even latitude and longitude lines meet, for instance 97W/39N, 98W/39N, and 99W/39N. Those were all on my flight path and just a few miles from I70. The first is located near Chapman, north of the freeway. I soon found it after a bit of dirt road driving about 100' SE of 2800 and Sage. It was in a planted field and no one was around. For a few reasons I decided to ask permission first. An older gentleman at a gas station off the freeway suggested I ask at the realtors in town. He wasn't around, but at the nearby hardware store they helpfully looked up the plat map and told me that Mrs. Meyer was the owner. Unfortunately, she wasn't at home, so I kept driving. (It gets slightly more interesting, just you wait.)

98W/39N is located near Keene, but the offramps were closed for construction forcing me to double back. After several miles of dirt roads, I found it about a half a mile from any road. I stopped at the house for the owners of this large plot of land, the Hubbards, and asked their permission. They had no idea they had a confluence on their property, so apparently I'm the only one who bothered to ask permission first. Anyhoo, they gave me permission, and I went through a few gates on their property. The gates were there because of steers (I guess that's what they were), and the steers quickly retreated on my approach. They congregated on a rise a few hundred feet from my path, and they didn't appear like they were about to charge. Nevertheless, I kept a very watchful eye on them. I was still a distance from the confluence when I decided that the steers could reach me before I could jump one of the fences. I'm not about to get stampeded just to take a picture of my GPS.

So, I went back to the Hubbards' and said I'd try it from the north. I was able to jump their barbed wire fence at a low point, go through some scrub and through a muddy creek before I came to another barbed wire fence. At this point, I could have looked for another jumpable point, but I was worried about having left my car back in the road, so I turned around again.

So, back to the Hubbards'. "If you get any people here again who want to go to the confluence, please don't tell them I was here." I didn't give them one of my "Lonewacko: Blogging Across America" cards, and I only gave my first name. I asked if I could come back and try again, and they said OK. I mean, it's not that big of a failure, and if not for the steers and the fences I could have jogged there and back. Let my embarrasment be your trip planning. Since it was nearing dark, I decided not to try for 99W/39N.

By the way, Mrs. Hubbard apparently is a licensed massage therapist as well as a seller of things Amway if you're in the area.

Posted at 10:14 PM | Comments (0)

On the trail of Doris Kearns Goodwin

The Eisenhower Museum in Abilene KS has a museum and a library, as well as Ike and Mamie's tomb. A few plaques in the museum deal with Senator Joe McCarthy, and not in a way that Ann Coulter would find to her liking. While the museum has interesting historical artifacts, including various cables between Ike and others, it doesn't go into too much depth about any one subject. Only one plaque mentions in passing his warning about the military-industrial complex.

For that, you'd need to speak to an archivist or (even) one of the many visiting historians. Unfortunately, the archivists were off because it was a Saturday, and none of the famous historians were likewise to be found.

On my way out of town, I stopped at one of the more upscale hotels in the area, and asked if they'd had any famous historians sightings. The gentleman behind the counter - who unfortunately but kindly refused my request for a photograph - couldn't name any famous historians he'd seen. Marlin Fitzwater is from the area, but he hadn't stayed there. Neither had Arthur Schlesinger Jr., but he might have stayed at one of the more upscale hotels in the area. Like Gwen Ifell, I began naming TV historians: Michael Beschloss? Steven Ambrose? Doris Kearns Goodwin? None of those names rang a bell, but he did mention that most of their historian traffic is one or two tiers down, being mere college professors or students. Those didn't interest me.

Posted at 10:04 PM | Comments (0)

Would Huell Howser do this?

If Huell and Luis were driving around Salina KS taking a quick tour of the town, and they spotted a store selling gothic and fetish clothing, would they go in and feature it on the hypothetical Kansas Gold show? I think not.

What exactly is a gothic and fetish clothing store doing in the middle of Kansas anyway? I don't know, but apparently it's currently the only one in Kansas. It's called The Other Side, and it's located at 1056 East Pacific (corner of Pacific & Ohio). Pictured above, from left, are John, the proprietor of the store, together with two other visitors, "Magdalena," and Jim Penquite.

Magdalena is based in White City KS and makes holographic displays, such as the one on the table which is not visible because of the lighting.

Jim Penquite makes ornamental birdhouses and other yard art. I shot the photo above at Celestial Ironworks in Lawrence KS, and I believe that's one of his pieces. He can be contacted through them and his items can be bought through geezer.com. Here's an interview with him.

UPDATE: The previous address given was just the mailing address. As pointed out in the comments, the address above is the actual location.

Posted at 09:50 AM | Comments (4)

I drove 2000 fucking miles for this?

SPRINGFIELD, ILL. - I recently posted to the Chicago Bloggers Yahoo group, saying that I'd be there soon and asking if anyone would like to meet me and do things.

In response, I received one helpful private reply, and two less than helpful replies to the list.

"Jeff" writes: "Why is that I'm not charmed by a stranger who tells me he's coming into my town in 48 hours and then provides me with a list of suitable ways to entertain him?... at least go through some of the motions of gentility and decorum? Maybe say we have a nice group... he'd sure like to meet us... sorry for the late notice... ?... the ChicagoBloggers are more or less a group of friends... not the Blog Chamber of Commerce... And that list thing... sheesh."

Someone else writes: "Demands will get you nowhere, politeness will, at least get your e-mail read and maybe kept and considered instead of being trashed after being briefly scanned."

Messages received.

I'm sorry to be brusque, it's just that I've been living in L.A. for many years, and sometimes we cut corners with the niceties a bit and get right to the point. I realize I'm now in the Midwest, and I need to adjust myself to a different way of doing things. Plus, I've been spending a lot of time driving, and that means that my 'net time has been greatly reduced. If I'd had more time, I most likely would have been able to put more thought into my message.

As for the list, it wasn't really a list of demands. While it includes some of the things I'm interested in (but certainly by no means all), it wasn't meant as a list of the ways that I could be entertained. It was meant as a starting point to see if there was some commonality between what I'm interested in and what the receiving bloggers would be interested in. I'm certainly willing to be interested in what you're interested in, as long as I can finally meet some fellow bloggers on my tour. And, to be frank, I was hoping they'd be Chicago bloggers. While some Angelenos might have a negative opinion of Chicagoans, I don't. In fact, I spent a few years there. I realize it's a lot different from the glitz, glamour, stars, mansions, near-constant sunshine, culture, beaches, and frequently snowy mountains of L.A., but it certainly has its own charms, and I was hoping to experience those charms again accompanied by my peers. Although there might be thousands of miles separating us, when I was blogging away back in L.A., I always knew I was part of the worldwide blogosphere, and that blogging connected me with all the other bloggers out there.

I want to stress that I bear both gentlemen quoted above no ill will. I visited both their blogs, and I found them quite interesting. I apologize again, and peace out.

(Special note to John of THE OTHER SIDE in Salina, Kansas: As you can see, I'm trying to blog in geographic order and I'm over 500 miles behind. But, your report will be posted next.)

Posted at 09:49 PM | Comments (11)

Cathedral of the Plains

Located in Victoria, KS. Here's their homepage, and here's some pictures from inside. There wasn't anyone there, and I foolishly assumed the doors would be locked, so I didn't even try to see the inside.

Posted at 07:44 AM | Comments (1)

Ranking the western Kansas roadside attractions

1. The High Plains Museum in Goodland:

The High Plains Museum is small in size, but it's larger in spirit. It features your standard exhibits about prairie life, antiques, etc. Plus, it has a few dinosaur and mastodon exhibits. All is not sweetness and light; the mannequins gave me the creeps.

However, as pictured above, it's main claim to fame is having the first working helicopter. The helicopter has a secret feature that I thought was super neat. You'll just have to go there to find out what it is.

2. The Prairie Museum of Art and History:

Larger and slicker than the High Plains Museum, this museum features a house, a church, a school, a barn, and a couple other buildings that were moved to the site. The inside part features a doll collection. As at the other museum, their mannequins gave me the creeps, but the dolls were even worse. They also do not have a helicopter.

3. Prairie Dog Town:

Last and definitely least, PDT has been featured in several quirky-roadside-attractions books and shows. It's a dumpy, depressing hell hole, and all I wish is that I didn't catch any diseases from walking amongst the prairie dogs.

After seeing the roadside signs for 50 miles, I was expecting something akin to one of those Wild Safari places, where you at least drive through a gate. Instead, PDT was based in a ramshackle building that reminded me of Colorado Auto Parts in beautiful Lennox, CA. I said to the lady behind the counter: "How much is it? Oh, hmmm, $5.95. Hmmm..." as I began my internal debate on whether I really wanted to see a six-legged cow and a five-legged steer. "Hmmm..." I continued my internal debate.

Soon a shill arrived and stated how this was her third or fourth trip here, and how much she enjoyed it.

"Let me put it this way," said the lady behind the counter, "the only way we can pay to feed the animals is through your admission fee."

Well, that's all it took to sell me. "You mean, if I don't buy a ticket, the animals will starve? OK, give me two tickets."

All thoughts of buyer's remorse soon faded when I stepped past the counter and saw a wood cage full of rattle snakes (most lost in deep, deep slumber). "Is it OK if I kick the cage?" I said jokingly.

"I'll do you one better," counter-lady said and began scraping across the chicken wire on top of the cage with a board. That brought the snakes to life, but to get an even greater effect she stuck the board in the cage, causing one of the rattlers to try to strike it. Too bad they were just diamondbacks and not mojaves.

The outside area of PDT is about .5 acre of unhappy animals, some free, some caged. It's not like they're wallowing in their own filth or something, but it's not the San Diego Zoo by any stretch of Larry Farmer's imagination.

Larry is the owner of PDT, and I met him after my tour. I took a few pictures of him with my "Lonewacko: Blogging Across America" card, but he wants a release before I could publish them on the web. How's this: I won't publish any of the pics I took there. As much as I hate PETA, if I had to choose I'd probably rather have given them my $5.95.

Plus, PDT does not have a helicopter.

Posted at 09:08 PM | Comments (1)

A sign of better times

A closed gas station in western Kansas.

Posted at 08:16 PM | Comments (0)

Scaling Mount Sunflower

These are pictures from Mt. Sunflower, the highest point in Kansas. In actual fact, no technical skills or equipment are required to reach the summit other than about 42 miles of dirt road driving and a 10 foot walk.

Most "highpointers" - those who try to reach the highest point in each of the fifty states - are Wacky Like Me. Case in point.

To duplicate my feat, simply take the dirt road that starts at the Kanorado exit of the 70 south about 15 miles. It jogs once for about 1/8 of a mile, but stay on the southbound route after the jog. Then, you'll see a sign saying that Sunflower is 6 miles ahead. After about 5 miles, turn right and look for the U.S. flag. For more information, see this page.

This makes my fourth state highpoint, after MA, CT, and RI. My strategy is to start with the absurdly easy ones first and work up from there. I do, however, have about 15 California county highpoints, some of which are not just walk-ups.

Posted at 08:59 PM | Comments (2)

My trip up the Third Flatiron

That's a picture of me climbing the Third Flatiron outside Boulder, CO earlier today. This was my first multi-pitch route.

Here's more information on the route and a picture of the Third Flatiron, and here's a picture from winter. More later, now it's on to KS.

Posted at 04:57 PM | Comments (0)

Pictures from Rocky Mountain National Park

I'll post higher res pictures later.

Posted at 07:39 PM | Comments (1)

The Lonewacko Blog is now available in Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico

All at the same time that is. This picture was taken at the Four Corners monument where those states meet.

Posted at 08:22 AM | Comments (0)

Downtown Denver

I briefly visited the LoDo area, and it didn't appear too very bohemian to me. I'd imagine the rents there are outside the capabilities of most starving Denver artists.

Posted at 08:18 AM | Comments (0)

Pictures from Zion and Bryce

Pictures from Zion and Bryce National Parks are here. More pictures later.

Posted at 08:02 PM | Comments (0)

Lonewacko: blogging live from Denver

The Lonewacko Blogging Across America tour continues, and I'm now in Denver.

It took a bit more time than expected because I was driving aimlessly back and forth through UT, AZ, and the southwestern part of CO, including visiting several national and state parks. I'll post pictures later.

However, I'm now 1/3 of the way across the country. I'm going to Rocky Mountain National Park tomorrow or the next day, then it's on to Kansas, Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago, and points east.

I also haven't promoted the tour as much as I should have, but hopefully that will change. If you want to meet me, leave a comment here with a valid email address.

Posted at 12:25 PM | Comments (1)

Meet the Lonewacko!

Welcome from St. George, Utah. I'm taking a long road trip, and I might be coming to a town near you.

If you're a fellow blogger, let's get together and blog or something.

My current plan is to drive all the way to New England. I'll probably take the 70 to MO, head up to Chicago, and then work my way over to VT, NH, and perhaps ME. If you're on the route, let me know. Or, suggest an alternative route even.

Fun things we could do include:

- hiking
- mountain biking
- backpacking
- visiting confluences
- visiting state highpoints
- seeing the sights
- pretending to be Huell Howser and Luis
- smoking crack with truck stop prostitutes
- discussing why your political viewpoint is wrong, all wrong
- easy top-rope climbing
- taking photographs
- attending blog-worthy events in your area and blogging about same
- kayaking/canoeing/rafting in the Mighty Mississip
- etc. etc. etc.

P.S. I'm serious. This is not a joke. I am in St. George right now.

Depending on the thunderstorm situation, I might spend a day or two in Zion, then it's on to CO and points East.

Leave a comment or send an email to abuse at tolstoy.com It might take a day or two for a response.

P.P.S. The "wacko" in Lonewacko is ironic. I'm really quite normal.

Posted at 10:36 PM | Comments (0)

Non-"liberal" coverage of immigration, Iraq, terrorism, multiculturalism, Los Angeles, California, privacy, and occasionally celebrities and wacky humor...

Main

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Immigration 2008a · Immigration 2007b · Immigration 2007a · Immigration · Immigration (6/05 to 12/05) · Immigration (1/05 to 6/05) · Immigration (8/04 to 12/04) · Immigration (before 8/04) · Immigration & Terrorism · Immigration & Driver's Licenses · Immigration & Consuls · Immigration & Media Bias · Immigration & Europe · North American Union

Blogging Across America

MultiCulti Madness · General Politics · Privacy · Miscellaneous · The "Peace" Movement

Los Angeles · California · Outdoors and sports · Celebrities · Wackiness · Inside Blogging

Iraq · Beltway Sniper · Terrorism & Extremism · The Saudis · Warblogging · War On Drugs

• 2008: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10 
• 2007: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12 
• 2006: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12 
• 2005: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12 
• 2004: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12 
• 2003: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12 
• 2002: 9  10  11  12 

All Posts(links to each post by title)

• "Crackhead University" and Newburgh NY
• Chinga Chinga Boom Boom Chinga Chinga
• What is it about Salina Kansas?
• "What was the key lesson learned on the Blogging Across America tour?"
• Geronimo, Cochise, and me
• Lonewacko of Lordsburg
• [Insert El Paso summary here]
• The other Hueco
• What you drive through on the way to the Carlsbad Caverns
• Behind the scenes at the Lonewacko Blog
• Lonewacko drives from Fort Stockton Texas to Carlsbad New Mexico
• The Robert Hilburn Interview: Lonewacko Jr.
• The Organ Mountains
• That explains everything!
• Lonewacko of Arabia
• "I've had this conversation a few times before..."
• Carlsbad Caverns
• The top of Texas
• What to do in Alpine, Texas
• Mitre Peak

My trip to Alpine County What not to do, again (September 1-2, 2002)

Boston Market Cornbread Temperatures Please help contribute to this important study (August 28, 2002)

Did The Gap Put Celebrities at Risk? An Open Web Letter to The Gap (May 20, 2002)

Humphreys Peak Arizona's highest point (May 19, 2001)

Go Heavy, Go Slow, Get Lost Bay Area highpoints (December 14, 2000)

Hubris in New England The highpoints of RI, CT, and MA (October 8, 2000)

Let's go to Utah Zion, Bryce, and Grand Canyon (August 14, 2000)

Your host, climbing Monkey Face (5.14d)

Your host's arm (circled)

Your host's hopelessly outdated conditioning progress

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