Westward Day 2

I left the hotel as soon as I could muster enough energy to flop out of bed. The morning attendant laughed that she had given me 207 at first, and said “It didn’t even open the outside door did it?” and that he needed to get that problem fixed. Good, I am so glad they communicate so well here at this glorious establishment. I also think I counted 5 cockroaches in the halls…why did I ever pay for that…

Found my way to gas and Sonic as usual and headed towards Colorado.

Kansas was hard to endure; long stretches of fields of grains and corn, few towns and unbearably boring. It’s no wonder my family ever moved away from this place. It’s not as bad as Texas cuz at least there is color for the eye, but I still found myself shouting the mile markers as I neared its end.

Eastern Colorado is no different.

As I neared Colorado Springs, the mountains emerged ahead and northward- I was finally done with the Mid West.

Entering the town and heading north into Pike National Forest was a sight to behold; finally mountains, finally curves in the road, finally something for my hands to do other than fight winds.

Once the steep ascension begins, I feel at home again on the road, judging curves and the cars agility, wishing other people didn’t have to screw up the whole experience by being on the road.

Passing the Manitou Cliff Dwellings and Garden of the God’s I reached the little town of Woodland Park, CO. Which turns out to be much bigger than expected, greeted by a large log faced WalMart and two Starbucks to serve, the town lined the road a good two miles or so before giving way to the forest once more.

Taking a turn right near the end of the town, I drove through some wooded residential areas, one big stretch could have been your run of the mill track housing of nearly identical two story homes, a spacious 10 feet apart- almost threw up on myself at their sight in such a beautiful place. Nothing is immune to American business, and the sheep-like quality to which we all pride ourselves as individuals.

Coming to open fields bordered by mountains on both sides with brightly lit cumulo nimbus, I was again in awe of God’s beautiful creation.

I had found a few campgrounds online and quickly wrote down directions a few days previous. The one closest said 3.5 miles from the main road, at 3.6 I came to a “Group” campground, so I proceeded farther hoping I would come across another. About a mile down I came to South Meadows campground.

Pulling up to a large sign with instructions to the campsite, I hear a shrill whistle and turn to find an elderly man waving me over to his site as camp manager.

I pulled around to him, greeted by a large smile and “A California boy Eh? Where ya from? My wife and I are originally from the Chino/Pomona area.” We talked a moment about California and he proceeded to tell me about the sites and reservations and such. I thanked him and pulled around to look for a good place for the night. Stopping in one to check it out, I decided to continue looking as the man came around a corner in a golf cart, came to a halt at my car and said I could take any reserved spot so long as the reservation date was the following day. I thanked him kindly once more and wished that all camp managers were as nice, and it was his day off.

I found a good spot and set up camp.

Now ravenously hungry and the beginnings of a “feed me” headache approaching, I drove back to town and attempted to find some sustenance with the aid of GPSy, which always proves difficult with only myself to make decisions. I had no idea what I wanted, just not fast food. I found a dinner down the street and drove up to its locked doors to see that it was a breakfast and lunch only establishment. Down a bit further to a steak house that was too fancy, back up to another dinner that was too shady, drove back to where I had parked to search and went into the pizza/pasta place I had earlier ignored because I didn’t feel like having to deal with an upset stomach from either tomato or milk based ailments I posses. But I do love both, so I figured I’d give it a shot and hope for the best.

Entering I sat myself, was promptly greeted and ordered and iced tea. A few minutes later she brought me a half filled glass and an apology that they were out of tea but brewing more, and would return upon its completion with a full glass. Still not quite knowing what I wanted, she said she would return in a few to take my order. I eventually decided on what they had named a “Mama-Rito” that had your choice of four pizza toppings backed into thin pizza dough and covered in a sauce and cheese. I can make due if I choose wisely, and waited patiently for her return.

After a while my head and neck began to really start hurting, she still had not come back- finished with the half cup and on my third or fourth read through of the menu. I kept looking around in attempt to get her attention, but I’m not much of the aggressive type. I saw the waitress order drinks and then food for two other tables and nicely tried to get her attention and began to get angry with her for ignoring me. When my waitress popped up with a new full cup of tea and immediately realized I had been angry at the wrong waitress, though she still had taken a while longer than needed to return for my order.

Upon setting down the fresh glass she looked at me in surprise and suddenly realized she had forgotten my order and was terribly apologetic.

I ordered and began reading since I had gotten behind of late, and though I’ve read 300 pages, the book is over 1000 and it feels like I’ve barely started when I look at the page marker’s placement.

After a while of hunger and headache and now tense shoulders from improperly crouching over my book, she brought me my “Mama-Rito” and with another apology informed me I would be receiving desert for free on account of her transgressions. I thanked her graciously and stared at the monstrosity on the plate in front of me, and thought I’d never make it to desert if I ate half.

I had also needed to “facilitate” this entire time and upon my third attempt at the bathroom I figured I east some and hope it would open soon.

She brought my check and asked what I’d like for my desert, I ordered and continued to dig away at the ginormous pile of assorted meats, dough and alfredo. Upon bringing my desert I was overwhelmed with both plates of food, wanting it all to be in my quickly filling stomach.

On my fourth attempt at the bathroom, it was found unoccupied with a nicely clogged toilet to greet.

Returning to my table I ate a few more bites of the “Rito” just so I would feel I ate enough of it and quickly consumed the desert.

Back to the car I searched for WiFi with the navigation feature on my phone- which just told me to pay for it at McDonalds or Starbucks, or drive 30 miles back down the hill. Turning behind me I saw a little coffee shop adjoining the pizza establishment, so I enquired to the time and WiFi-ness and found it was open another hour and free.

Ordered some peppermint tea in a “kettle” to the tune of Creep from Radiohead and sat down to plug back into the narcotic of the information super highway. A minute or so later I was served my blue porcelain kettle with cup and saucer all in one. The tea was delicious and the internet wonderful as always.

At 8 when they began staking chairs and cleaning tables I packed up, thanked them and drove back to my nights home in the Rockies.

I love camping.

Westward Day 1

After the short trip to see Garrett and Liz again I drove back to Nashville to stay with Eric for the night before my long days on the road ahead.

Eric had work at 5, he woke me before he left to say goodbye and was off. I decided to sleep a bit longer because I still wasn’t feeling completely better.

I ended up leaving his place around 7 and got gas and searched for a place to eat. Eric lives in Murphreesburrow (pronounced Murfiesburrow…who knows) which is about a half hour south of Nashville. I located a Duncan donut just into Nashville on my way northward to meet up with I-70.

Grabbing breakfast in the DD/Gas station I headed back up I-24 towards Kentucky. As I had previously mentioned the roads in Nashville are horrendous, one can change highways 5 times just to stay on the one originally started. Passing through Nash. I came upon the junction that would go right to the Hilson Home.

Driving under the signs while keeping my gaze upon the numbers, I began to choke up with emotion for this town I had so shortly come to know and love. Continuing on I passed the exit for Bongo Java, my favorite coffee shop and location for writing many of these blogs, as well as many times spent well with friends, and again I was overcome with emotion for this place and it almost seemed as though a tear could form.

Reaching the northern outskirts of the city as the last of the Nashville exits passed I could no longer contain the emotions welling inside as the dam of tears broke and I wept my departure of this city and the home I was leaving with my new found family behind.

Humans were made for relationships. God created in us the need for one another and for Him. Being more of an introvert in general it has always been a hard concept to put into practice, to be an integral part of a community; it has always been easier for me to just have one or two people close. But lately I’ve had such a deep longing for community. To be around living in the day to day in the midst of others, struggling with life’s issues, more than just roommates or good friends- but to be with people who are serving each other and finding ways to serve others as much as possible.

Entering the Hilson Home was entering the mess of six lives colliding in one four-bedroom house. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

It is not just these lives either, it ripples into everyone within reach. The day I arrived, Paul (the one wearing girls sandals to take out the trash) was staying for a couple days on his trip home- he became another one of us for those few days. A while later six hippies leaving Bonnaroo stayed the night for showers, laundry and a dry couch to sleep before they continued on their way. (Tiffany and Stephanie were friends with one of the girls since childhood…the rest were just tagging along) And later another few people were supposed to stay that had found them on CouchSurfing.com, but for some reason or another it didn’t work out. There was always room for one more.

After just the first night I felt I had become another member of the household, I just happened to sleep on the couch. And I knew this was the community like I had craved. These were the messes of men (er ah women…) that I had longed to be a part.

This can’t even fully explain it all, but this is what I had tasted and was leaving behind. And it brought tears to my eyes. So much so that I couldn’t even understand GPSy or make out road signs properly. It was the first time in my adult life I had cried over leaving a place. I have never had trouble leaving till now. I cried when I was a child leaving my first home- but never since. This place had changed my life.

I think it may have also not helped that I was listening to Coldplay’s “A Prospekt’s March” EP, which is just so darn beautiful.

I ascended Nashville and eventually Tennessee. I found out that in Kentucky only people over 50 are in residence. Didn’t know that was possible, but they pull it off somehow. Everyone smokes as well, which seems counter intuitive to the afore mentioned statement, but they pull that off as well. And no resident may drive more that 3 miles per hour over the speed limit, though in general they stick to 5 miles under the posted suggestions.

Kentucky and Illinois are pretty I guess, and their drives proved uneventful.

Crossing over some river into St. Louis, Missouri I came to find that inner city ghettos can actually be had in the middle of cornfields of nothing- I had always assumed a city would have to be there previous to an inner city’s dwellings- but I was wrong. Only black men are allowed to ride motorcycles in St. Louis and protective gear is optional at best and of course the faster one is planning on going the less gear is required. Our motorcycle laws in CA are messed up…

Headed for a campsite just North of Kansas City, MO, GPSy takes me through back country roads with names such as M, N, O, and PP- wish they’d be as creative back home, it would make the drive more enjoyable. I began to get worried that this so called campsite was going to be the middle of an open field and upon setting up my tent I’d be approached by shotguns and pitbulls.

Somehow they make “towns” by putting a hundred year old gas station and a Sonic at an intersection and expect passers by to know that humans are around, even though the evidence suggests otherwise.

Just as I did finally find this so called campground, another RV park that hides the fact in forgetting to mention such a fact in the name, it began to rain- and not normal rain- big Ogre gone emo sized rain. The clouds had suggested he might cry, but up to this point had stayed dry. Judging by the size of the tears and the observation that swamp thick clouds saturated the skyline in all directions viewable, I decided to go back to the Sonic I had passed five miles back to let my full stomach decide what to do instead of my bitter, head cramping empty stomach.

After about ten minutes overview of my options I picked a sandwich and ordered. I really hate drive through- I avoid them at all costs- and Sonic is only that- well you can’t always pull through cuz you’d hit the building- but you always have to deal with the stupid speaker thing getting in the way of the order and the operators comprehension of no tomato or lettuce.

Upon completion I decided to drive a bit further into Kansas and get a hotel since camping with a tent doesn’t exist in 200 square miles, not to mention the now communal Ogre sized downpour. It is still beyond my comprehension, though I’ve experienced it, how it can be dark, °85, with 80% humidity, and pouring down rain the size of apples. It defies logic.

GPSy found hotels in Lawrance, Kansas about an hour away, which cuts off an hour from the following day’s drive. So I headed south to the city to find I-70 westward once again.

The sun had not quite sank, and southbound I could see to my right where the Ogre storm had abated somewhere over Utah, the sunset. Or at least sun rays over the mountains hitting the Ogre’s clouds, into one of the most brilliant and beautiful displays of color and light I quite possibly have ever seen. Had the Ogre’s not still been drenching this state with the apple sized tears and shocks of thunder and bright as day lightning I would have pulled over and photographed the sight.

As I came over a ridge and this wonder was shown more fully I once again was overwhelmed with emotion, thinking that I had another family on that coast who could see fully this sunset and that I had just left behind my southern family, and I couldn’t hold it in once more.

I felt the Ogre storm’s pain and cried mini ogre tears for the second time in one day. I longed for the community, for the family, the friendships, the hardships, and for a woman to share it all with. Someone that would long for and search for these things with me; someone that would go on some crazy trip across the universe with me- for the rest of my life.

Clearing away the tears to focus on the darkness and the irrationality of American’s in cars at night in a storm, I eventually found my nights stay at the Econo Lodge of Lawrance, Kansas.

The girl at the desk took my money and assigned to me room 207, directing me to “Entrance 6” to the right of the building. Moving my car among the diesel duellies and squeezing into a spot near Entrance 6, I unloaded what bags I needed (and or didn’t want to leave out) and many rain filled attempts to open Entrance 6, I repacked the bags and walked around to the front desk. She informed me she couldn’t do anything about it unless I tried the door to my room. So I went and found room 207 and low and behold it would not open either. She reassigned me to 236 and this time trying both room and Entrance 8 I moved the car closer and unloaded again.

Sitting in the room for a few minutes fiddling with television of nothing I wanted to rot my brain with, I went down to the “Lounge” for some pretty terrible playing of guitars and what I believe was supposed to be singing- and yet there was a huge crowd of people intently listening, and when the two finished they were applauded and given all sorts of praise on their “jobs well done…how well they played” and other sorts of completely unwarranted compliments. One even said, “You guys got better as the night went on.” I almost audibly replied, “Yeah because you just got more and more drunk that they didn’t seem to suck as much.” But I held my tongue.

Not even sure why I stayed long enough to hear them finish, I think I just didn’t want to be completely alone. Returning to my room I changed and turned back to the TV brain rotting for too long, and eventually fell asleep to the drone of parties down the hall and the street lamp incessantly turning on and off every few minutes.

I hate hotels.

It's been too long

So I know I've slacked off on this and missed two weeks in Nashville and two trips to Atlanta. And now I'm in Seattle having driven the last four days to get here- of which I have already written about and will post shortly. Please forgive my transgressions. I will here attempt to sum up my time in the beautiful soggy south.

I wish I had taken more pictures of my time there...it kinda just slipped my mind when I got into the daily life and wasn't thinking about how I would want pictures of the people and places.

Well for the most part I spent my time at coffee shops, at least when the girls were working. My favorite was a place called Bongo Java right next to Belmont. It was built into an old house they had moved walls and such to make a large main room yet kept a small back area and upper sitting room. It had a huge deck in front where most people would hang out and was the first location I sat with a large group of people on my first day in Nashville. After I had arrived Erin had to go to work and a couple more people showed up at the house and we all when to Bongo to hang out. They food of all kinds, bagel sandwiches they call "Bombs" and an assortment of other coffee shop in a house type foods as well as the usual coffee, tea, etc.

Over my time there I also visited Bongo East-same company and where the coffee for both is roasted and is located near Erin's work at Blood:Water in East Nashville, the Frothy Monkey-also a house but smaller and more packed with people, wasn't terribly impressed with the coffee and I felt like I was intruding, and Fido- which is on 21st and a major destination of Nashville, I guess everything in that area has to do with dogs, not sure why, no one could answer, and it was totally packed, had good food but all kinda odd and pretty good coffee.

Another East Nashville destination is called the Weenie Wagon, and is "The Best Weeniery in East Nashville" (so said the sign outside). It is a yellow VW Bus, that has been turned into a hot dog stand. Up on cinder blocks with a deck built up to the window. I was a little uneasy at first since hot dogs aren't really my thing, but if Erin could rave about it as much as she did and I'm sure she likes them even less, then I could give it a shot. For seating they have a barrel in front with blankets and table cloths for sitting in the grass around the establishment, which was really fun and relaxing. So I ordered two cheese dogs and was shocked at how good a real beef hot dog could really be. The buns had been warmed but weren't soggy as happens many times and the dog was tasty and didn't leave me thinking I would have issues later. I left quite satisfied.

One night during CMT Fest (yeah Country Music Television has a festival in Nashville, big surprise) we walked down Broadway and saw first hand why it is known to some as NashVegas. It is like a mini strip of bar/clubs with minor cover charges, gift shops of Nash swag, flashy lights, beer, and scantily clad women...yep sounds like Vegas. I really could care less about that part of the town, its like the biggest attraction for country lovers and such but is really a pretty crappy part of town (also just like Vegas...and Hollywood for that matter). So I saw it and left. Guess it had to be done if I were to stay in NashVegas.

The girls and guy I stayed with are amazing. They are all really great people and it was such a pleasure to be able to spend a significant amount of time in all of their lives for those two weeks. There is Erin who I know from CBU and a good friend of mine for just about 3 years. Hope who worked at camp with Erin 3 summers ago and whom I met then. The three of us went on a road trip last summer for two weeks up the north coast. Tiffany who worked at the same camp as Erin and Hope but last summer when Hope worked there again, she is married to Raphe and they both live down stairs in the basement of awesomeness. Stephanie who is attending MTSU (Middle Tennessee State University), and friends with Tiffany from middle school. And Denysha who is an amazing maker of cakes and also attends MTSU with Stephanie. Thats the household, it is great, I want to live in a place like that.

I also got to spend time with the Eric Parker. Good friend of mine from the CMC (Contemporary Music Center), I engineered his music from there and we always had a good time so it was great to spend some time with him after the fact. He has the same motorcycle as I, its just silver instead of blue. I like mine better haha.

The two trips to Atlanta were great. The first time was the second day I arrived in Nashville, Erin and I drove down to stay with her friend Mindy Gunter from her Ride:Well team from last summer, and to see MewithoutYou the following night, which was amazing. It was at a pretty large venue that looks like had been a workshop of sorts over 80 years ago. It had the big water wheels with remnants of the belt systems to power the tools of a shop. It was two stories tall and they had made a venue into each level, upstairs was called Heaven and downstairs was called Hell. Our tickets said we were in Hell...but we ended up going to Heaven. I'm glad they weren't Calvinist's...

MewithoutYou was awesome, they have such an entertaining live show, and Aaron Wiess has come along so far in the last few years it is amazing. The first time I saw them he could barely play guitar live and was still pretty awkward on stage, he almost sang a little for a couple songs (if you don't know their style its like talking/yelling so it rarely has melody but it still sounds really cool most of the time). Well their last release really surprised me with melodies abounding and new musical styles and textures over every track. It's folky/quarky as is fitting to the band, but much less hard than their previous releases and really took the stuff they had tried in "Brother Sister" to the next level. So I was curious to see how they would pull it all off now, and they exceeded my expectations. Aaron was singing extremely well, was playing guitar like he had for years, and had a much stronger stage performance, he was always enjoyable to watch, but you could sense his awkwardness in how he talked and looked away when he wasn't singing, he really had stepped up both his technical skill and comfort in performing, which was really great to see that he and the band is not alright with where ever they were and wanted to constantly push themselves with each album and performance.

I was able to get a hold of Garrett and hang out with him while he sat around his work for a couple hours. It was great to catch up with another CMCer.

And on my second trip to Atlanta I stayed with Garrett and his wife and we were able to do some recording with his church's mobile ProTools rig. We set up in a large stairwell and tracked guitar for seven songs and vocals for one more. They sound really cool, wish we had the time and energy to finish them all.

Thats all I can really think of at the moment to write about. I am sure I'll come up with some more good stories and post them intermittently over the next few days. Thanks for continuing to read my babblings =)

Day 5- The Arrival

As the soggy heat pushed down on my encampment I slowly gained awareness, though with little light as it was filtered through the dense overhang of foliage. It was hard to move and fully awaken with this dense impairing heat that held me firmly to the ground. After much delay I finally got up to pack the car.

If the tent seemed stifling then the bathroom was an all out full nelson choke hold. I attempted to wash the night off my face and eyes only to dry to full perspiration and a pointless use of water.

I could now fully take in my surroundings. The RV park was half filled with what seemed like long time guests. My closest neighbors, though from Texas, had obviously made home in this far corner, and even beyond them were trailers in for the long haul, sets of patio furniture, dead grass where tires drove, and weeds up around the trailer wheels. The front half was the usual of retirees and their ilk, though with the addition of a large group of families there for a baseball tournament, as judging by the team jerseys scattering the grounds.

Parting from the campground in need of fuel and food, I stop at a gas station just down the road next to the freeway, that at 7:15am was closed, but would still feed the Mini its precious life-blood.

While pumping I was joined by two others in need of fuel, both giving me the usual odd looks of my unwelcomed presence at their gas station of choice. One of whom had a young boy with them in a little league uniform, though a different one from those at camp. As I finished up a girl unlatched the door from the inside and hurriedly switched on the lights. I purchased water and caffeine and proceeded to find my mornings sustenance.

Down the highway an exit or two was a Sonic with its drive through breakfast glory, so I found my way to an egg croissant and searing hot coffee. I do not enjoy having a hot meal and a hot beverage, they really should never be together in the first place. Take a nice big bite of fresh out of the microwave sandwich and wash it down with a molten beverage...ones mouth may never forget such a heinous crime. Good thing I had just bought Ozarka tap water in a bottle.

Now on my way towards Tennessee, Memphis would hit about lunch time. I had thought it would be cool to find lunch downtown Memphis and coming upon the city frantically searching with GPSy, I past it. Didn't know it was that small, oh well no turning back now. She had found a Waffle House up the road and still on the trail to Nashville.

Erin had work at 5, and if i didn't take too long with lunch then I could still catch her...as long as nothing else slowed my pace.

It was amazing thinking that after all of this time on the road I was now only 3 1/2 hours from my destination, and almost was sad at its inevitable end. Though with that only being the beginning of an adventure of this place called Music City, Nashville.

I quickly ate my second breakfast sandwich of the day (I could probably eat one of these for every meal if I had a Waffle House chef in my kitchen...though to the detriment of my waste line and general well being) along with "Covered and Chunked" hash browns (you have to learn the lingo for such an upstanding establishment as Waffle House) and proceeded to input my final destination into GPSy's well mapped hands and entered the Tennessean country side.

Nashville is a mess of roads, pikes, highways, and freeways. I think there are more sections of Nashville that there are of New York City, at the least NYC is a sensible grid that can be easily followed. Nashville on the other hand is a drunken mess of streets.

But with trusty GPSy and her condescending British accent at my side, I easily found my way to 5136 Hilson Road, after only a few turns around and directional correctings.

As I pulled into the driveway with one familiar car in front, I was met by an Asian man in woman's sandals walking a large bag of trash to the trashcans. We both gave looks to the other of "who are you and why are you here" I am sure of it, and after being attacked by Erin and Hope from the back of the house I found out he was a friend of Hope's from the World Race and was staying the night before he drove home.

I had arrived. Nashville, Tennessee. Erin, Hope, Stephanie, Denysha, friend Paul, water saturated 85 degrees and the house that would be my home for the coming weeks.

Day 4 Part B

Tim had called just before arrival while weaving single lane road construction, so after completing my slumber structure I returned his phone call, wondering away from the site, partially for fear my talking could awaken any one if they be in the trailer or within earshot.

Finding my way down to the little dock just past the launch ramp, I stood out with stars above and their wandering reflections in the pond below. Some motion in the water caught the corner of my eye, looking down and finding my focus fall upon a three foot water moccasin, just about four feet from the side of the dock in which I stood and at the level of only a few inches above the waters surface.

My body froze, my heart pounded, my voice halted, stuttered and squeaked. To any one who may not know, or haven't yet encountered or read about these little buggers, they make a rattlers scales pale in comparison- and they don't let you know they are about to strike...they just do it. Most snakes only attack when they feel threatened, these guys will just strike any thing that moves within range. The venom differs as well, once the fangs sink in it doesn't need time to run through the blood stream to affect injury, it will immediately numb and begin its paralysis by way of the nerve system and the blood will only carry this infirm to more of the body. It is not easily bled out and can render a limb useless with a good enough bite.

With that said- and all of those thoughts running through my mind at that moment- I slowly moved my way back up the levels of dock to solid ground and found my breath again while attempting to find my way back to the story I was telling Tim.

As we were finishing up our conversation I began to see a set of lights slowly come around the back right side of the pond- or what I had up to this moment believed was a pond. Thinking they might be heading to the boat launch of which I now stood, I moved back up to the car and tent. Hanging up the phone I began to unload the car and set up my sleeping arrangement.

After a few minutes the sound and lights of the afore mentioned water vessel came closer. I stood in awe and wonder at the sight in which I beheld.

Two boys in late teens or early twenties standing in a fishing boat with attached trolly motor, six large household flood lights affixed to the bow of the boat, one of them was handling the makeshift till and the other with foot on boats edge, intently scouring the light flooded water with bow pulled tight and arrow at the ready, rope attached to it's end.

I really couldn't believe my eyes. That I was really seeing two boys fishing in a swampy river with and bow and arrow. So in awe and with stifled laugh I totally didn't think until the last second to photograph this momentous occasion.

Ripping out the camera and tripod I was only able to capture the last remnants of their light as they curved away into the swamp filled darkness.

Which in turn spurned ideas for some more night photography of my one night dwelling in a campground bordered by a swamp in Arkansas.

Setting myself to bed after this eventful muggy night, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering around the days happenings and the following days drive to my final destination- well at least for the time being. Was startled when my pillow began to sing to me much like Mike Herrera to the tune of "Chick Magnet." A text message from Hannah inquiring as to my whereabouts and the trip thus far. I responded shortly and asked how her time home had been...a minute or so passed and now my phone sings the first chords to "Rock N Rule" by Emery and I am again startled and realize she just called me instead of a text response. We talked for over an hour and upon our goodbyes, the Arkansas night gave way to my dreams.

Day 4 Part A

Woke up to the sunrise, or rather once the sun was fully up and my tent began to warm.  Laying for a while in its warmth I began to feel the pressure of the longest day ahead of me, mostly due to the fact that I was doing the worst, most flat states in one shot.  

Grabbing breakfast quickly at McDonalds (whatever it was the only thing open...)I found out that when you order Iced Coffee "regular" it means sugar free vanilla is added.  I figured in general not wanting flavor wouldn't bring one to put in such a horrid mockery of vanilla in place of nothing.

Upon downing the breakfast and fueling the mule I set upon the road to Arkansas by way of Tex-lahoma.

A little blue star appears at the top of my phone and slowly pulses whenever I have missed a call or text or any such missed event, including email that my phone routinely checks.  And I don't like said star to slowly pulsate there if possible- so I hit the email button to clear it and notice a message from Tooth and Nail Records regarding Emery's new release, it was not coming out Tuesday as it normally would but that Saturday would arrive on the shelves of Target and "your local music establishment."  Coming upon Texas I said that I would only stop if I found a Target, otherwise would do the state in one shot. 

Entering Amarillo I notice a huge red circle/dot announcing to the whole world there was an available Target at the exit he or she just passed.  I quickly maneuver around dually toting businessmen commuter "cars" and exited the following street- weaving through streets back towards the beacon of Target- a few U-turns and multiple lane changes around said "commuter cars" and soccer mom SUV's of rage, eventually finding my way to the music aisles with no new release section touting the proper title, and through the backwards alphabet to the letter E under Pop and Rock to a blank divider card titled "Emery- On Shallow Seas We Sail."  The knew it was to be out soon, but it had never made its way to the shelf, and of course no one was around to assist me in the dilemma- oh and it is 11am...so they couldn't have sold out in two hours.

Having noticed a Christian Book Store across the street I made my way there.  After being greeted by a nice girl shelving books I was promptly ignored three times by the guy in the music section- opting for walking around my chosen aisle to talk to the older couple to my left.  Finding Emery amidst the awkwardly arranged alphabet, there was only one CD of their previous album and an EP.  Since CD avoidance man wasn't going to help my grizzly-ness I left and found a music store in the mall close by, who knew nothing of Emery or CD releases on Saturday.  Leaving the mall I came upon Best Buy, so I figured I might as well give that a try, seeing that I wasn't going to let the sun set without first having the album in hand and in stereo.  

This Best Buy had twice as much Country music as I've ever seen in one place and about half as much "Rock and Pop" as a normal Best Buy.  Digging my way through the alphabetized band names I came to Emery's tag and paused momentarily to ready my self for once again being let down, flipped back the CD's in front to the glory of the hand drawn album cover of ship at sea.  Holding it in disbelief after this now hour long search, I really couldn't believe I now had it in hand.  Quickly proceeded to the counter for purchase .

Now slightly hungry and knowing I must be going on my way, I found a Schlotzky's Deli, having never had it, and its claim to free wireless internet, I again made my way around mom's and commuters to the so called "deli with a funny name, and a serious sandwich."

There were four iMacs set upon a bar in the middle and nere an electrical outlet save for the one posted century at the entrance.  So I ordered ate and left, the sandwich was fine, but not worth the time in pronouncing the name.  Oh yeah and after a few minutes the computers were swarmed by children who immediately logged on and began playing their favorite online game, there could not have been one over the age of eight.

I had been instructed to eat at Brahm's when I was in Oklahoma- which in this case coincided with dinner time upon my city arrival.  Finding one more-or-less on route via GPSy, I proceeded to its doors to realize my informant wanted my dining experience to include a large dairy filled sundae of gastronomical glory- one of which is the last thing a "Lactoid" (as Erin calls it) should feast upon during a long road trip with few rest stops and in the absence of medicinal aid.  So, I had a hamburger, coke and lust in my belly.

Texas and Oklahoma are quite the arduous task- its not a walk in the park, when the park is dry grass and the path straight and unending, as far as the eye may see.  So I knew that I had to get gas and coffee and be on my way.  Little did I know that finding the closest of both would continue to take me further away from the 40.  Among other things, road blocks and single lane highways, over an hour later I was on my way back down 40 towards Arkansas.

Having found only one campground near the border without going too far out of the way- I knew I had to make Arkansas by nightfall.

When the sunset and I was still in OK, I quickly realized I wasn't going to set up camp in any kind of natural light, but it was my best bet for a nights stay.

As soon as I hit Arkansas- well a few miles before- the foliage began to grow up around the edges of the freeway and eventually covered the view on both sides.  The roads began to curve, rise and fall, giving my tired eyes and wind worn fore arms something to do to keep me going.

Just as I was beginning to have more trouble focusing, Erin called to confirm my whereabouts and giving me a good conversation for upwards of 45 mins and just a few miles short of my campground- now past 9:30.

Pulling up to the entrance, I quickly found that it wasn't "Parkridge Campground" as trusty GPSy told me- but "Parkridge RV Campground."  No mention of tents...made me a bit worried.  And the "office" sign pointed to a house across a bridge and up a short hill.

I sat pondering my options.  A continued drive, finding another campground, or hoping for the best.  So I walked up to the lower portion of the house that was an office/gift shop, opening the door rang a bell above as I cautiously entered the dimly lit room full of nicknacks and dangly things.  Rustling was heard just above and soft but firm foot falls ascended the darkened stairwell as a man in his mid forties with socked feet and his little son, greeted me politely and questioningly- guess my bearded smiling face was a bit out of place at an RV park in the middle of the Ozarks.

I enquired about tent spots explaining that I hadn't realized it was primarily an RV park 'till my arrival.  He said he did and it was $16.50 including bathroom privileges.  He asked where I was from, and upon offering my response the man gave a "well that figures" sort of look and I mentioned I was heading to Nashville the following day, whereupon he asked if I "was one of those famous musicians."  To which I chuckled and replied, "No...but I'd like to be one day."  He just nodded and said to follow him in his golf cart to the campsite.  

Taking me around to the back of the facility he stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by vines and trees, just uphill from what looked like a small pond, adjacent to a large camper that seemed as though it had been there a while, with its accompanied Mustang and Harley tucked under its fifth wheel apparatus.  Grass growing up around the wheels and a worn path to its entrance, the vehicles had Texas plates and no trailer hauler was in sight.

Setting up to the headlights on the Mini, of which kept deciding to not be on, every couple minutes I had to run over and flick them back on and resume my building.

Day 3

I woke up for sunrise today- said it was supposed to rise about 5:15, so I got up at 4:30 to ready myself and camera, and find a place to shoot.

Scooping a good outlook on my little map I drove up a ways from my camp and turned into a lot full of bleary eyed, road worn sunrise onlookers.  Most wandering with little digital cameras vying for a good shot of the canyon sunrise in all its hand held splendor.

Pulling out my oversized camera tripod and placing my camera filled backpack on a rock, I studied the flora to figure the best composed shots for such as sunrise as this.  There were many over the shoulder glances at me and my gear, I'm not sure if they were looks of disgust or envy- possibly both...

Snapping off shots to get good framing, composure, and light settings I move around some and find some nice trees to frame my sunrise.

Southwestern sunrise in all its Eastern splendor- red rocks, bleached sandstone, pines peaking out where seed found soil enough to birth and root...it was magical and I don't feel the photos do it justice.

Once the sun had fully risen and I had used up my shots of this canyon in all its grandness I found the lodge cafe would open in a half hour, so I cleaned up my tent and campsite, arranging everything neatly back into the car's spacious, inverted seat trunk and found my way to breakfast croissants and muffins that put me back twice that of any fast food establishment, good thing they don't put signs out with the prices, that way in our morning camping grogginess we will purchase based on our stomachs emptiness and not the emptiness our wallets will soon endure, ces't la vie.

At this point I had little left to see of the canyon without doing the typical cone licking trails a few feet down the gorge's side- so I left from the opposite direction I entered, and headed towards Flagstaff.

Between 8-9 I was having some trouble focusing on the road and cars ahead on only 4 1/2 hours of sleep, so I pulled into a gas station/deli and attempted to nap to the passing of Harley's and semi's engine braking down the grade upon which I was perched.

After some time of non-movement and un-rest I grabbed some water and tea and pointed down the road again.  Many of the last stops have not had my favorite wake-me-up, the Double Shot from the Bux, its compact with much caffeine and does not like to be sold in convenience stores...cuz thats too convenient.

Shooting for the border of New Mex and Tex by nightfall, I passed through Albuquerque and decided to stop and see what this little big southwestern town is all about.  Somehow ending up downtown, I spotted an interesting coffee shop and aimed for parking near by.  Greeted by a big coffee shop smile and southern hospitality I was served a sweet chilled something that I must have ordered in my dazed state of road weariness.  It was pushing the high nineties and cloudy- so more or less outside the Mini was quite uncomfortable, and inside the coffee shop, which was much bigger than it looked from first glance, felt amazing even with crying babies and their stuffy snot nosed, intrusive, older siblings running amuck.

I was pointed to a restroom bordering a recording studio, and HD video editing bay (not the usual run-of-the-mill back rooms of a coffee shop) after passing a bar/club-like room with neuvo art/paintings/photos hung upon blackened sheet metal and cracked concrete.  Turns out the owner used to work in Hollywood, did something in the first Starwars film- or rather Episode 4- and a few years back moved to Albuquerque to "follow the industry" out there.  Now he does post-production for local television and such, including a major tv show I hadn't heard of nor can recall the name of now.

I ended up falling asleep sitting at a table in this fine establishment- head against the wall, mouth fully open (I'm sure), screaming kids and jabbering old lady... and it felt wonderful.

I think this town is the strangest I've ever been.  Not sure exactly why, it just gave me and odd feeling- like one of those towns in movies that you move to and looks alright on the outside, but really has some hidden secret goings-on...yeah thats Albuquerque.  It's a town full of coffee shops and restaurants by day that turn to bars and clubs by night...and here I am thinking that only super heroes and villains do such things-but so does Albuquerque, NM.  

Walking around the little downtown area I kept getting this feeling like I was being followed or watched, and that I didn't belong- like it wasn't a place I was supposed to be wandering- and by the looks of it I thought we'd get along fine.  As evening approached I decided it best to continue my route and rid myself of murky Albuquerque.

Arriving in Santa Rosa, NM after a mostly uneventful drive from the afore mentioned town, I was initially confused with the owner of an RV, by the camp manager, when I wanted a tent site for one, when he thought I had a whole RV and car in tow.  After clearing up the matter I was given my choice of a few plots of dirt at the back side of an RV park and set up camp, again as the sun set and light dwindled, though this time with a bit of a New Mexican sprinkle, large drops on my tent and I- but quickly abated when dark drew upon us.

I found a local pizza place, enjoying something other than fast food or truck stop sandwiches, I devoured and "small" order of breadsticks.

Went straight back to my tent for a nice long rest before the arduous task at hand upon sunrise- Texas and Oklahoma...