Author: kathyanyc

February 14 – 19:  We left Elephant Butte Lake SP a little before noon on Friday.  The weather was sunny and warm(ish) so we were in no hurry to get back on the road. Meandering down Rte. 26 (also known as the Raptor Highway on the New Mexico birding trail)  we managed to do a little car-birding, not my favorite kind of birding but nevertheless…   Ron drove and I scanned the sky and roadsides to see what there was to see when suddenly I caught sight of a very large brown bird kiting about 6 feet above the desert floor.  I got enough of a look to determine what it was not (not a red-tailed hawk or a harrier) and saw just enough of its under-wing markings to decide it was probably an immature golden eagle looking for lunch.  Ron saw nothing.  Did I mention how much I dislike car-birding? This is why.

The city of Deming is pretty much the last stop in southwest New Mexico before crossing into Arizona so we thought we’d stop there for lunch.  Google maps pointed us to a place called Elise’s House of Pies and Restaurant – who could resist? What Google maps didn’t tell us is that it would be so darn hard to find.  It was tucked into an alley behind 207 Silver Ave., on the odd numbered side of the street even though the address was 208 1/2.  Took us several minutes and we’d almost given up when Ron saw the sign; the BBQ was good and Elise was a gem, even giving us a small heart shaped box of valentine chocolates on the way out.

Driving into Deming, NM.

Elise’s House of Pies and Restaurant

We crossed into AZ and drove down to Portal expecting to camp at Sunny Flat, one of the two campgrounds in the Coronado Forest but it was chock full.  Checked out the more primitive Stewart CG just down the road – also full.  By now it was starting to get late and we were a little concerned; we never expected these two out of the way spots to fill up as last time through they were practically empty.  It was just like Florida; even the camp host said this year was the busiest ever, with more and more campers turning to public parks instead of pricey RV resorts.  She gave Ron some vague directions to a road where we might find a pull-off site for the night, warning him not to go up to “those rainbow people”. *  Well, we apparently went too far because halfway up the road we encountered dozens – maybe hundreds – of cars, trucks, buses and campers lining the roadside giving us barely enough room to pass let alone turn around.  I finally found a sort of wide enough spot and headed downhill to find a more secure site for the night. A couple of park rangers were on their way up to check on the gathering so I stopped them to ask where we might stay and they directed us to another road leading to a trail head with a level parking area.  Sounded good and it was beginning to get dark so up we went, two miles on a relatively graded dirt road until we reached the top.  We spent a quiet night, all alone at the Herb Martyr camping area (not an encouraging name but a beautiful spot) and headed back down in the morning.  Thought we’d have a nice brunch in Bisbee but it, too, was packed with no where to park or even pause for an hour, so we continued on our way to the San Pedro Riparian Reserve for a brief bird walk and then to Sierra Vista for a laundry/shower stop at the Garden Suites.

An ominous name for a quiet campground,

We’ve been revisiting a lot of parks this trip.  Patagonia Lake in the southeastern part of AZ was always one of our favorites so we chose to spend a night there to force ourselves to slow down a bit. The next morning we joined a guided bird walk before checking out, and had a picnic lunch at the Patagonia Audubon House, formerly the Patton hummingbird stop. In the same spirit we drove less than 100 miles that day and checked into Gilbert Ray CG at dusk, a beautiful place at the edge of the Sonoran Desert, just outside of the city of Tucson. We met a really nice couple from Rochester, Joe and Joanne, and made plans to meet them again in New Mexico on our way home.

Now this poor van has driven thousands of miles in every kind of terrain and weather conditions so it was time for a bath. It was pretty hard to tell what color it was under the dust, sand and grime but after a visit to Danny’s Big Rig Resort it came out sparkling granite, just as it was when we first brought it home.

We got to Doug’s just after 4 and settled in for a nice visit. Doug made a nice dinner of carne asada and corn on the cob – way better than most of the road food we have been existing on recently.  On Wednesday we ran errands, Doug did his weekly shopping and we went out for a fabulous dinner at Vincent Market Bistro.  Fabulous. Did I mention it was fabulous?  On Thursday I did a few things in the van but mostly we relaxed, read and chatted. Oh, and I caught up on the blog.

*According to Wikipedia the Rainbow Family is a loose affiliation of counterculture groups in existence since about 1970.  They put on yearly, primitive camping events like this one on public lands in the US and regional gatherings throughout the year in dozens of other countries.  Gatherings last for about a week and emphasize a spiritual focus on peace, love and unity. Rainbow Gatherings are held with an open invitation to people of all walks of life and beliefs to share the experience.  Dance, music, food and drugs are part of the traditions.

February 10 – 12: We knew Texas was a large state but, wow! Took us three long driving days to cross from the Louisiana border before we got to Las Cruces NM and by then we were beat.  In a nutshell:

Monday:  Drove 300+ miles on I 10 through drizzly, chilly, gray weather only stopping for a picnic lunch at Stephen Austin SP ($10 just to get in for an hour!) and gas. Twice. Checked into Palmetto SP for the night.

Tuesday:  Nice campgrounds, even if we didn’t get to stay to enjoy it.  Woke up to see a curious cardinal perched on one of our wiper blades – what is it with cardinals and cars? Brewed a pot of coffee and went on our way.

San Antonio must be experiencing the Texas income boom: upscale resort-style developments going up like crazy on its northern perimeter with names like Canyon Ranch and Pine Estates. Tired and mostly hungry we stopped in Boerne  TX (a San Antonio suburb) at Deinger’s Trading Post for really good tomato soup, quiche (for me) and ham & cheese croissant and cranberry/lemon scone (for Ron). This area was apparently settled by a few German families in the early 1900s because many Germanic names remain on the street  signs and towns nearby.  That’s when Deingers was really a trading post serving that population; since then it has been a bank, a library, a hotel, an auto shop and a few other businesses until it was bought by a local group and returned to its roots.  It is said to be haunted by one (or two) of the original Deinger family, apparently embarrassed by the decline their property experienced over the years.   There was plenty for sale in the “trading post” section – all quite trendy and pricey – and the cafe portion was hopping with ladies who lunch and local business persons.

Another two-tank day with gas prices escalating the further we got from the oil-rich Gulf area, from a low of $1.97 to about $2.50 here.

With a shortage of nearby campgrounds, we tucked into the Ft. Stockton Walmart for a restful night.  There were a dozen or so other campers with the same idea, with rigs ranging from a converted school bus to 40 foot mobile homes with all the amenities tucked inside.

Wednesday: Left the Walmart early (because that’s what you do when in a Walmart lot) and headed back to I 10 for another driving marathon.  Exits with services are few and far between in this part of the state because  I 10 was meant for truckers to get from point A (probably Houston or  San Antonio) to point B  (El Paso and the Mexican border) with as little interruption as possible. Tourists like us are left with very little recourse but to read the exit signs for hints of food stops and gas.  So when we saw the sign for Uncle’s Cafe we pulled off the highway and into Uncle’s parking lot.  Surprise number one: the outdoor patio tables were covered with at least 2-3″ of snow.  Surprise number two: the cook sings along with Sinatra and Elvis while scrambling eggs for the breakfast burritos.  So do a couple of the regulars at the table near us.  Made for a pleasurable meal, much nicer than in any fast food place we could have eaten. Filled up the van again before going back on the road.

Entering New Mexico. The first rest stop.

We crossed into New Mexico (snow everywhere!) and headed north, stopping at Elephant Butte SP to see what the lure was.  Campers we’ve met all along our way – beginning in 2018 – have mentioned this as one of their favorite New Mexico campgrounds, and it is beautiful,  But we decided it was too far from our final destination of Bosque del Apache to get there at dawn, so we settled for a private campground just a couple of miles north of the park entrance. Before settling in for the night we drove the road to the park and saw a few cranes in the fields, apparently being fed by an RV park owner to attract them for his guests, and a few in the ponds near the park road. But on our way out, we saw dozens more roosting in that same pond and as dark descended, we could hear them calling.

After having a quick bite at the Owl Inn (the only place in town, the town being San Antonio NM, population under 500) we drove the road back to Bosque Birdwatchers Campground in the dark, following what appeared to be an erratic driver who slowed down to let us pass, then sped up to pass us, turning on his flashers and traveling at about 20 mph for a while before turning into the same campground where we had intended to spend the night.  The city kid in Ron was really nervous for a while but it turned out that it was only our campground “host” who led us into the empty campground and charged us $20 to spend the night.

Thursday: It was 21 degrees when we woke up at 5:30 am, still dark but light enough to find our way back to the parking area just inside the park. There was a photographer already set up on the dike at the edge of the ponds but we could see that there were only about a dozen cranes left there from the fifty or so from the night before but they were surrounded by hundreds of snow geese.  As the sun began to rise those hundreds were joined by a fly-in of hundreds – if not thousands – more, honking loudly overhead  to announce their arrival. Satisfied, we had a quick coffee in the visitor center parking area and drove both the North and South tour loops, adding a dozen or more cranes to our viewing list.  As an aside, hundreds of Pintail ducks, N. Shovelers and evn Mallards make this park their winter home and they swam in every pond and impoundment  along the drive.

Sunrise at Bosque.

Plenty of snow left at the visitors’ center.

After our 1,200 mile marathon we were happy to return to Elephant Butte, less than 50 miles away, to spend the night.

February 6 – 9:  Wished Clara a happy birthday when we got up (in the rain, again!) and discussed going to visit. Are we crazy enough to do it? Time will tell….

Before heading out I talked Ron into a mani-pedi at Acqua Salon right on Rte. 90 in Ocean Springs.  Best idea ever.  We both spent a relaxing hour getting pampered while the rain continued, on and off, for the entire time. Grabbed a sandwich before heading west to Louisiana and drove along the Mississippi coast for a while, admiring the white sand beaches, the big old live oaks streaming with Spanish moss, and the remnants of Ol’ Miss plantations along the shore.

At exactly 5:00 pm Gai met us in her driveway, introduced us to Misty – her 8 year old  black lab – and our next respite from the road began.

Day one: Took a “tour” of Gai’s new rig, a 24′ Regency.  Hard to believe they can pack so much comfort and luxury onto a class B chassis. When Ron sat in one of the captain’s chairs and Gai rolled up the 40″ TV in front of him I could see van envy setting in.  Gai drove us  around of one of her favorite small towns, Madisonville, where we turned into Fairview SP on the Tchefuncte river and admired the view from a picnic bench.  I took the Swamp Walk boardwalk trail  alone (looks just like it sounds) and kept my eyes peeled for gators and snakes.  None showed.  Later on, we set off to have dinner at Acme Seafood,  one of her favorite restaurants, only to find it closed – not for the night but permanently. Disappointed she took us to downtown Covington and we soothed our sad feelings with some excellent fried seafood and crawfish etouffe.

Day two: We set off  this morning to toodle around Covington in daylight but after stopping off at Sam’s Club to pick up meds for Gai (and a slice each for us/hot dog for Ron) the skies opened up again and we retraced our steps for home.  Sitting around that evening eating Gai’s jambalaya and discussing our plans for the next few stops, we got her really excited about seeing the Sandhill cranes in New Mexico so off we go tomorrow, in tandem to New Mexico and Basques del Apache! First stop – tomorrow’s zydeco breakfast outside of Lafeyette.

Day three: Be careful of making too many plans.  With hopes high we called Buck & Johnny’s for a reservation only to find they no longer do zydeco breakfasts on Sundays.  And Gai woke up to find her achy neck had only gotten worse overnight and she would not be joining us on our road trip after all. So we said our good byes to her and Misty and set off for Lafeyette to revisit Vermillionville Historic Village, have a great lunch and spend the night in their parking lot – sanctioned by our Harvest Host membership, of course. The band playing in the dance hall –  as part of their Bal Dimanche line-up – was more southern rock than zydeco but it was live and the dance floor was packed.  I stayed to listen and watch the couples two-step and waltz while Ron retired to the van to rest a bit.  After the last note, and when all the visitors’ cars had left, we found a level spot under a live oak near some picnic benches and settled in for the night.

Back to Vermillionville – and back in time.

Thank you, Harvest Host.

Tomorrow we cross into Texas for a long trek to New Mexico to see the wintering cranes.

January 26 – February 2:  After refueling stops at Trader Joe’s for us and Raceway for the van we headed to Manatee Springs SP where we were lucky enough to score a site.  It’s really tough to be a spontaneous camper in Florida in January. We’ve seen every kind of rig from pup tents to 45′ mega motor homes  –  even a tiny home on wheels! – with license plates from every northern state and Canadian province on the road and in the campgrounds, all vying for the same spaces. So the next day when we showed up at the Ochlockonee River SP without a reservation we weren’t too surprised to be turned away.  The kind ranger directed us to a nearby city park, Myron B. Hodge, where we spent the night.  Deja vu: exactly the same thing happened two years ago and we remembered the park affectionately, with its boardwalk over the bayou and early morning mist.

Not to be deterred, we tried again the next day.  I’d always wanted to visit St. George’s SP on a barrier island in the Gulf so we drove over the causeway with our fingers crossed but without a lot of hope; sure enough, the park was full.  Instead we had a great lunch at the Blue Parrot on the water and took a short walk through the St. Joseph Bay Buffer Preserve.  It’s been way too windy and about 15 – 20 degrees below normal, keeping the birds quiet and hidden.  Tired, cold and defeated, we went to Carraba’s for dinner (where we got two extra meals to go for ten bucks apiece) then settled into a Cracker Barrel parking lot for the night.  At least we knew that a hot breakfast would be right outside the van in the morning and Ron wouldn’t even have to grind and brew the coffee.

The next two days at Ft. Pickins had been reserved in advance so we took our time driving there in the teeming rain.  Did I mention the leaky windshield? We were aware of the occasional drip coming from behind the sun visor but the heavy downpour made us realize just how bad it had become.  Luckily, we found a Safelite service center in Pensacola and even more luckily, they took us right in. And the resealing was covered under Safelite’s lifetime warranty!  Yay, Safelite!

Speaking of repairs, we had been without hot water since starting the trip and Ron had had enough of washing his face with ice water so he called Steve at Colonial for some help.  After sending photos back and forth, lying face down on the van floor with a flashlight looking  at water valves and thermostat settings, Steve found the manual on line and had Ron flick a switch behind a small door outside the van, solving the problem.

We spent the afternoon at Ft. Pickins, touring the fort and learning about its origins.  The pentagonal brick  fort was built in large part by black slaves as part of an effort to fortify all US major ports against foreign invasion.  By the onset of the American Civil War it had been unoccupied for decades.  Despite its dilapidated condition,  the commanding officer at the time put it into service as a union fortification to defend against local secessionist threat. It was one of only three southern forts to remain in union hands throughout the war.  The cannons at the fort had never been fired except in drills, and (like many things today) were technically obsolete by the time they were completed.

We meandered west after leaving the campgrounds and were in Mobile – and at Mary’s – by 5:00 pm.  We became reacquainted with Jeannie and George, Mary’s black and white cat children, and met Rosie – her newest feline addition, a beautiful Russian Blue – before spending a quiet evening catching up on news (ours and the world’s) and retiring for the night.  Mary wasn’t feeling well the next morning and Ron’s cat allergies were kicking up fiercely so we decided to be on our way a day early.

We stopped at the Pascagoula  Audubon Nature Preserve (another place we remembered and loved first time around) but, again, it was just to cold and windy to do much birding.  Took another half-hearted stab at finding a last minutes campsite at Shepard  SP but no luck. But we did get a great recommendation for BBQ just a few miles away; we drowned our disappointment in delicious baby back ribs and after much discussion checked into a motel for two nights: one to catch up on showers and laundry and one to watch Superbowl LIV.

We spent the day walking and driving around nearby Ocean Springs, a historic village on the Gulf just outside of Biloxi.  The town takes Mardi Gras very seriously with decorated storefronts, fences and windows – even the pastries in the patisserie where we had coffee were iced in purple, green and gold.

A Mardi Gras wreath.

The next two nights were spent doing laundry and catching up on the blog – and watching the Super Bowl, of course – at Country Inn and Suites outside of Ocean Springs. And this time we made a reservation in advance to take the three-hour tour of the Mississippi Sandhill Crane wildlife preserve not far away.  We got there at about 9:00 and joined a group of about 6 others, boarding a van and getting our binoculars ready.  Our volunteer guides, Dave and Kim, were knowledgeable about the cranes, their habits, history and habitat.  They found six cranes for our group, a family of three, a courting pair and a single bird fling over the van.  Satisfied, we checked into Davis Bayou CG – also part of the Gulf Island National Seashore –  for a couple of days.

January 19 – 26: The primary purpose of meeting up with Al on this trip was to do some of the Great Florida Birding Trail, and so we did.

Monday: Revisited the Celery Fields, Sarasota Audubon’s nature center with trails around several ponds and marsh areas.  The wind was fierce (from the north, no less) and birds were keeping warm, I guess, because there weren’t too many visible.  Highlights included a shrub filled with cattle egrets, a purple gallinule and a soaring red shouldered hawk.  We then drove to Myakka River SP for more birding. The wind persisted which made an entire flock of Limpkins gather at the weir.  First time seeing more than one at a time and there had to be close to 100.  Also in large numbers, dozens upon dozens of black vultures, sharing the sunny shore with a bunch of gators.  We usually see them soaring, looking for a meal, but these guys must have been happy to rest after fighting gusts up to 35 mph and temps in the forties. Dinner was back on Siesta Key at the Lobster Pot; grouper sandwich for me, clam chowder for Ron.

Tuesday: Decided to sit out the wind and go to the movies in Sarasota instead.  Saw Knives Out – a tongue in cheek murder mystery with a great cast.  We all enjoyed it a lot;  on the way home we ate at the Red Tomato, an upscale all-you-can-eat salad bar with soup and pasta stations.

Wednesday: Took a ride south to the Venice area for more birding. The Audubon group there maintains a visitors center and small park, where there is an island at the center of a small lake housing many wading birds.  It’s a major roost and nesting area for herons, egrets, anhinga , ibis and cormorants so we decided to make a few more stops and come back for the fly in at dusk.  We did, and counted hundreds of birds making their way home, turning the shrubs on the island almost pure white.  Highlights included seeing a great blue feeding two chicks in her nest on the far side of the island and a fly-by flock of  whistling ducks. We had lunch in old Venice at Carney’s Irish Pub, a place Al had visited often when he lived in Florida.  On the performance schedule was an old neighbor of his from NJ who was going to play Friday evening, so we decided we would return then for dinner.

Thursday: Florida is filled with wildlife refuges, national forest and seashore lands and local parks.  Al had called us about  visiting “Ding” Darling NWR before we ever left NY so we decided today would have to be the day.  We took our reserved seats on the 2:00 tram ride and rode the wildlife drive.  Our driver/guide was very passionate – and knowledgeable – about mangrove swamps and their preservation –  so we did learn lots.  In short:

• the difference between swamps and marshes is that a swamp is treed while a marsh is primarily grass.
• mangrove trees are viviporous.  They develop seedlings and nurture them on a branch until they are viable, looking pretty much like miniature trees,  when they release them to ride the tide until reaching a place they can send down roots (often under the shelter of another tree); they remain there until conditions are right for them to grow.  Baby trees grow very slowly, often spending years under 2′ tall, being protected and “nursed” by the nutrients released by a mature grove.
• the park itself is pretty much at sea level and could be gone in 10-15 years.
• the heron population in the park has diminished 60% in the last 10 years and is in danger of disappearing altogether in the next 10.

We did the drive ourselves afterwards and finally tried out our scope to ID some reddish herons on a sandbar.

Mangrove “nursery”

Black crowned night heron at restt

Friday: The world famous Austrian Lipizzan stallions spend their winters in nearby Myakka City, training for the arduous touring season ahead. Twice a week their training sessions are open to the public for a small fee so I convinced my birding partners to take a small detour to see these magnificent animals. It was a beautiful day and we joined about 150 others on folding chairs and in bleacher seats, watching them go through their paces.  Our hostess (family matriarch? ring master? head trainer?) told us the story of how the horses were rescued from Nazi occupation, saved from Soviet recapture and brought under the auspices of the US Army by General Patton,  assuring continuity of a tradition dating  back to the 16th century.  On our way to dinner we made another birding stop at Crowley Historic Village and Nature Center and added blue birds and goldfinches to our trip list.  As planned, we ate back at Carney’s and listened to Al’s friend Ben sing and play for a while.

Saturday: Drove into Sarasota to St. Armand’s Square for an art festival.  There were paintings, sculptures, fabric constructions, ceramics; all quite good, if heavy on the beach themed decor.  I had several favorites, especially the fabric paintings and woven panels.  I must look into Art Lab classes when we finally retire from the road.  Lunch was at Colombia, a Cuban restaurant favorite of Al’s.  My shrimp dish was terrific, but Ron had preceded his meal with a thick, chocolate shake while walking around and didn’t want much of anything!

Sunday: Said our goodbyes in the morning and headed north, retracing some of our steps from the previous trip.

January 16 – 19: The ferry ride was pleasant, if chilly.  Hateful AC and me without a sweater.  We passed the time chatting with our “table mates” from south Jersey and planning our next moves.  It was easy to find our bed and breakfast, the Heron House, where we stored our bags and set off to get some lunch.  Wound up at Pinchneys on Duval Street for crab dip and crab and corn  chowder. Both of which led to Ron having a very uncomfortable night.

Now Duval Street reminds us of every other tourist destination by a beach: wall to wall bars and seafood restaurants,  souvenir shops, street vendors and ice cream stands.  Did I mention bars?  They say happy hour here lasts from sunrise to sunrise and it did sort of seem that way on Duval Street, especially when the cruise ships were in.  It was crowded and loud and busy, with a funky, anticipatory vibe.  Not exactly our style although we did enjoy admiring the sunset from Mallory Square with hundreds of others, watching the street performers and sitting on a bench with a mojito (for me) and an O’Doules (for Ron) outside of Meson de Pepe’s listening to Cuban music. Dinner was at Sarabeth’s (yes, that Sarabeth) just a few steps from our B&B.

It has become traditional for us to spend the first day in a new city on either a public or tour bus getting an overview, deciding what to return to and what to skip.  So after visiting the Audubon House in the morning and having lunch at Pepe’s,  we sprang for the Old Time Trolley and did the whole 1 1/2 hour ride, past the Truman Gardens and summer White House, past the art and history museums, right by the Hemingway House and the southernmost point monument, through the groves of resorts, down past the causeway connecting the keys to Miami, and back again. By then Ron had had it so he went back to the Heron House to nap by the pool and I walked parallel to Duval Street back to the Southernmost Point (which technically IS the southernmost point in the US, closer to Cuba than to Miami), wending my way through the side streets and admiring the houses and gardens along the way.  No camera, though, and my phone was nearly dead so I’ll just have to try to remember it all.

The ferry line was long by the time we got there and when we boarded, there were few seats left on the upper deck, so we asked if we could join another couple already seated.  Coincidences keep piling up on the road.  Turns out Cathy and Dennis are also from New York, born in the Bronx, currently living in Queens (we think) and newly retired from NYPD (him) and teaching English in a Catholic high school in Brooklyn (her).  They are seasoned travelers and we chatted all the way through the sunset and rough seas. Dennis is very familiar with Staten Island – he visited there with an uncle as a child, and the SI station houses while on duty.  He and Ron reminisced a bit about old SI and I invited them to visit when we got back home.

Before we left home Ron had made a reservation for the night at Oscar Scherer SP (over an hour north of Fort Myers Beach and the ferry dock) but I was extremely apprehensive about finding (1) the park and (2) our site in the dark. Cranky, even.  Finding the park turned out to be pretty simple although we made a few detours trying to grab a bite to eat (BTW, nothing is open after 11 pm in this part of the state, not even McDonalds).  Luckily, Ron called ahead earlier to let them know we’d be arriving late so we had the gate code, let ourselves in and easily found our site.  Well after midnight.

After a really good night’s sleep we decided to spend another day in the park, moving to the only open site they had left. After listening to Bill and Kate Isles, a folk/bluegrass duo from Michigan who spend their winters touring and volunteering at this park, we enjoyed another relaxing night. Got up early to join the assistant park manager and a small group of campers on a guided walk to find some of the scrub jays that call Oscar Scherer home.  We were lucky; one of the five resident jay  “families” popped up just a few feet from the trail only a few minutes into our walk.  We all got good looks (and me without a camera again!) and continued on our way.

Our guide is responsible for much of the park maintenance, including managing the prescribed burns that keep the undergrowth from taking over.  We’ve seen areas of controlled fires and their aftermath all across the country on state and federal lands but he described the entire process in fine detail, putting it all into perspective. There is no room for error, particularly in this park, which is located in an urban/suburban area, surrounded by highways and housing developments.

After checking out we joined Jane for brunch at First Watch, a chain of casual restaurants in the area.  Almost missed her, though, as I kept calling her home phone instead of her cell and not getting any response.  After 15 minutes or so I decided we were at the wrong location and we jumped in the van to find the other place in downtown Sarasota. She saw us pulling out of the parking lot and called just in time for us to turn right around again!

Thanks to Google maps, without which this trip would be nearly impossible, we quickly found Siesta Key and checked into the Cozy Cottage where we will spend the next few days. Al joined us later that evening.

January 10 – 17, 2020: We thought we would try once again to go in search of a warm January and so planned another southern swing, starting in Florida and wending our way to Phoenix before heading home in time for spring thaw. We picked up the van from Colonial on Thursday, tuned up and fitted with new tires, packed it with enough food to feed an army (including lots of chocolate and all that remained of the Christmas cookies) and went on our way the next morning.

• Spent the first night in a Cracker Barrel parking lot in Emporia, Virginia. Not exactly scenic but very convenient.
• Spent the next two nights in Skidaway SP, just outside of Savannah GA. Drove to Savannah NWR in the morning for some birding only to find the gate locked and access prohibited; not even foot traffic was allowed. Strike one. So, we googled Pinckney NWR, another park in the area just a little ways outside of Hilton Head Island but after driving around for over an hour we gave up trying to find it. Even the local residents we asked were stumped.  Strike wo. Then Ron remembered there was a wildlife refuge on nearby Tybee Island so we headed in that direction,   but by the time we neared Savannah we were tired and hungry and getting really grumpy so we decided to abort the birding mission entirely – strike three and out – and settled for a nice dinner at the Shrimp Factory on the river front.
• We made it all the way to Merritt Island National Sea Shore on Cape Canaveral about half an hour before it closed for the night, drove in a ways and walked over the dunes just to see the ocean. The ranger in charge of making sure all park visitors were out by 6 pm was nice, but adamant that we couldn’t overnight in the park. But he told us about the lot just outside the gate open for overnight parking, usually reserved for boaters and fisherman. The sound of the waves was soothing and it was peaceful and private.  We were pretty much alone – except for the swarms of tiny no-see-ums that made their way into the van and pretty much devoured me from head to toe. Turns out I must be allergic to their bites as the red bumps (and excruciating itching) persisted for over a week.
• Got to Big Cypress Preserve, in the Everglades, after dark and couldn’t find our campground, but the visitor center lot was flat and quiet so we stayed there overnight. The next day we drove the Loop road and did some birding, seeing a Florida morph of the red-shouldered hawk perched right above us. Guess that counts as a life bird.  We eventually found Midway Campground and decided it was way too far from our next stop – the Key West Express in Fort Myers – and reluctantly left the park.  On our way out we stopped for a brief boardwalk stroll which required walking past a sun-bathing alligator right on the side of the path.  It was worth it though, as the boardwalk wound through sub-tropical stands of huge ferns, palmetto and live oak harboring pileated woodpeckers, wading birds and (reportedly) a barred owl. As we continued our drive out of the park, we began to see flocks of white birds flying overhead, making their way to their nighttime roosts. We quickly pulled over and watched them fly in: hundreds of egrets, wood storks, cormorants, herons – too numerous to count, all making their way home for the night. Spectacular.
• Spent the night in another Cracker Barrel (so welcoming and convenient to I75) and headed out at the crack of dawn to catch the ferry to Key West.

  

March 20 – 28: Once we left Winslow, we decided we had to drive straight through in order to meet our obligations at home. So we flew through Arizona, sped past Oklahoma, rushed through Arkansas and most of Tennessee in just three days on I 40.  Our only detour was a rainy couple of hours driving around Sequoyah national wildlife refuge road in Arkansas where we spotted a pair of bald eagles on their nest.  We stayed in state parks, a city park and in this hotel in Nashville where we are planning the last leg of our journey, ordering room service and doing a last load of laundry.

So much still to see but it will all have to wait for another road trip.

March 17 – 20: We spent a relaxing few days at La Posada with Doug.  This former Harvey hotel was imagined by architect Mary Jane Coulter as a home, built over decades by a wealthy Spanish ranching family to house the many visitors they entertained. As such, the many spaces seem to flow from one to the other, incorporating related materials but not duplicating features.  Each bedroom was uniquely decorated and the common spaces, once visited by the passengers disembarking for lunch or dinner from one of the dozens of trains to stop by each day, were elaborately (but not ostentatiously) decorated in a way that those wealthy passengers would find comfortable and welcoming. That all came to a close with the advent of automobile travel, especially since Interstate 40 bypassed the town in the 1950s. Although all the finishings and furniture were auctioned off by the railroad once the hotel was closed,  the current owners have re-imagined her vision using furniture built, borrowed and reclaimed.  There are pieces bought at auction that have been donated (or sold) back by buyers who had loved the original hotel and were anxious to see it recreated. One unique hall stand, bought by a former frequent guest, had been carted all over Europe as its owner relocated several times, only to be bequeathed to La Posada on his passing.

Aside from the hotel itself, which demanded a lot of our time and study, we visited the Petrified Forest/Painted Desert NP and took lots of pictures, then spent several hours roaming around the town, snapping more photos and listening to Tommy, a blues musician who came to town as a ten year old from Mississippi.  A self-taught guitarist, he has been recognized by arts organizations across the country and has become a downtown Winslow institution, strumming each day right on THE corner made famous by the Eagles (and a determined group of Winslow citizens who funded a mural and several statues to mark the place). Ron and Doug also spent a considerable amount of time watching trains go by…

Painted Desert

A petrified log

Petrified bridge overlook

Spring has sprung in Winslow AZ.

Route 66 coffee/malt shop.

Outside the gallery.

Former factory, current art space.

Thursday, 3/ 15 – Friday, 3/16: We just couldn’t decide what to do next.  Debated back and forth between keeping to the original plan of following Rte. 66 all the way to Winslow or heading south to  Prescott Valley to try to escape the cold.  Then we realized wherever we  went we would want to do something interesting  during the day and the thought of a train ride sounded appealing.  But we’d already checked the Grand Canyon off our list and never intended to go again, so that didn’t seem like an option until it was almost too late.  Somewhere along the drive it became clear that if we skipped the train ride I would be disappointed so Ron sped us into Williams to try to catch the 9:30 Grand Canyon express.  We arrived at the depot just a few minutes before the whistle blew, a bit frazzled and  unsure where we would leave the van and (more importantly) where we would spend the night when we got back. More discussion, more decision making and we chose to buy tickets for the next day, check into the RV park just a few steps from the depot and relax.  Lunch was at the Red Raven –  a small bistro on the main drag – followed by pie and coffee at the Pine Mountain Cafe.  We returned to the van, did some laundry and settled in for the rest of the day.

The train ride took us through high desert terrain (where we spotted a prairie falcon hunting from the train window) and up into the pine-juniper forest before depositing us at the Grand Canyon Village, just a staircase away from the historic El Tavor Lodge where we enjoyed another nice lunch.  Boarded the Orange shuttle bus to the east side of the park and took in the views from Yaqui Point. Now I’d been taking pictures since we left Williams and kept getting an out of memory” message on the camera screen so I continually deleted some of the worse ones.  I concluded that my chip was full so when we got back to the visitors center to change buses I bought a new one.  When I opened the compartment to put it in I found an empty slot.  Apparently I never put the original back into the camera after downloading pictures to the laptop.  Missed so many beautiful shots of the canyon!

We continued our journey the next day and stopped to spend a few hours totally mesmerized by the exhibits in the Museum of Northern Arizona in Flagstaff.  One of the best museums we’ve visited on this trip.  I could have spent weeks in the room dedicated to the history of the native American cultures of the Colorado Plateau. Now, we have spent a lot of time hearing about the diverse civilizations that developed there and how they differed, how they evolved and how they were affected by the Europeans that arrived in the 16th century, but this exhibit put it all into perspective using artifacts gathered from across the plateau and oral history as recounted by current tribal members.  Researchers still work with the museum to add to the understanding of this rich, but often overlooked, American story.

The state park just south of Flagstaff we had chosen to stay in was still closed for the season, so we wandered down to the Lake Mary area in the Cocino National Forest to try to find an open camp.  All the federal campgrounds were also closed but we turned into the Mormon Lake Road – still in the forest – and pulled into the same off-road spot we used last spring when on our way to the canyon. There was plenty of snow still on the ground and lots of puddles, but it was above freezing for a change and we stayed cozy and warm in the van.

On Sunday morning we headed to Winslow and checked into La Posada before walking into town. Doug arrived a couple of hours later as we were packing some clothes and other necessities.  We chatted a bit, visited the on site museum and ate dinner at Turquoise, the very highly rated restaurant located at the hotel.

A little history of the Posada. Built as one of the Harvey hotels that dotted the Santa Fe railroad stops from Kansas City to California the hotel was abandoned once I40 passed by the town of Winslow. It was rescued from destruction by a small group of determined townspeople and brought back to life by a couple from southern California, Alan A and Tina Mion (an artist whose quirky portraiture has hung in the National Portrait Gallery as well as many other notable museums throughout the world).