Crystal Bridges, Chicken Salad, and Frank Lloyd Wright

             ArkDem-Gaz story “Habitat for Humanity” features Frank Lloyd Wright’s Bachman-Wilson House on display along the Tulip Trail at Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art in Bentonville, Arkansas. On our journey home from the American West, we stopped by NW Arkansas and dropped in on Crystal Bridges. We and at least 1000 other people had the same idea that beautiful fall day, including various school groups. Well-planned, nicely organized, and brilliantly accessible, Crystal Bridges is a gem. Of those 1000 guests at the museum, about half were having a quick bite to eat at 11, the Restaurant.  I hear the chicken salad is “to die for.”

One of the things I wanted to see on our visit there was the Frank Lloyd Wright house. Not open to the public until November 11, the grounds and exterior are beautiful. As visitors, we walked up to the serene design of the house’s front elevation and admired the wood design around the windows and were struck by the clean lines, along with the Wright-dubbed ‘car port.’ 

            What I loved better was the back of the house, the portion that is more wood than concrete and brick, the glassed living areas provide an open view of the slope and natural forested woodlands.

            While we did not tour the interior, the Dem-Gaz article includes a description and several photos. FLW’s living areas received the most attention with open areas similar to the so-called open-concept of modern design. The bathrooms and bedrooms, the article mentions, are minuscule, totally unrepresentative of today’s design. Austere seating arrangements are less preferable to me, but I’m sure the design is perfect for the 1950’s and the design of FLW.

            I was so pleased to see the house on site since I’d read the story of its dis-assembly and reassembly and find it fascinating that the FLW House is available to the world by being on display at Crystal Bridges.

            Have you read Loving Frank?

The Difference a Detour Can Make

When Route 66 turned northeastward through Oklahoma City to the Round Barn in Arcadia and on through the Tulsa area toward Springfield and Chicago, these travelers made straight for the state line of Arkansas and the city of Fort Smith. Something about the call of home lured us ahead when we reached New Mexico and the map indicated "just a few more days..."

As has been the pleasure and delight of this trip, we have been spontaneous in making changes, staying ahead of storms, and finding more chances for adventure. Once we felt that we were "home," we decided to turn north out of Fort Smith and head for Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, the phenomenal creation of the Walton family in Bentonville with a stop-over in Fayetteville

  

I've Got That Tray - Razorback Stuff

We had dinner at Doe's in Fayetteville and, I guess, unless the Hogs are playing and everybody is in an upbeat mood, Doe's is like any other Entertainment District diner - loud locals enjoying each other's company over highly publicized, high priced mediocre food. The area is, of course, sold out for the Auburn-Arkansas weekend.

The leaves are somewhat colored by fall temps, but many trees are in the process of losing their leaves with most trees' leaves a rusty brown. The silver toned bare-leafed tree sculpture that welcomes visitors to Crystal Bridges is stunning.

At entrance of Crystal Bridges

William Cullen Bryant and poet commune.

After a marvelous morning at Crystal Bridges admiring terrific art pieces, I find that I still prefer Colonial American and Romantic eras of American art.

An exception for me is the admiration I have for the modern florals in oil on canvas by Georgia O'Keefe.








                                                                                                Crafted from a photo, the sculpture of an old man on a bench stopped us in our tracks with its absolute realism.

Another piece I really loved was the portrait of the family displaced by the Mississippi River Flood of 1927, especially since I had read the book about the Economic and Political Impact of that Flood.



We walked the short distance down the Tulip Trail to see he Frank Lloyd Wright house that had been reassembled on the site; it will open to the public in mid-November. I appreciate Wright's clean lines and how his houses are in tune with the surroundings.  Ever since college art class when I saw the Fallingwater house as an example of the finest in architecture during the 20th century, I've been a fan.  Then, Book Club read Loving Frank.


To culminate the trip, we made one more detour - an overnight at Branson, celebrating the trip, our return travel toward home, enjoying dinner and a show.

Finding and Celebrating Route 66

Interstate Highways accomplished their purpose: make travel easier, safer, and quicker.

Another result: interstate highways across NM, AZ, TX, and OK are without persona, pizazz, and without the stuff the Mother Road once promised and delivered. It’s up to the locals to preserve and celebrate the Route 66 ambiance.

It’s been an adult desire of mine to follow as many miles of Route 66 as I could. We’ve done that throughout the Southwest. No places have been more iconic than Arizona, New Mexico, Texas,and Oklahoma, at least in the roadside advertising, the signs which announce Historic Route 66.

One town has attemped to save what time and progress have by-passed. The town of Williams in Arizona has done a super job of capturing the spirited essence of old Route 66. Other towns have not been as creative. Private individuals or companies have made valiant attempts to draw tourists such as myself to the former glory of the Mother Road. The Main Street of America meanders through old downtown areas, dotted on either side with neon that invites sleepy drivers to overnight at motels such as Blue Swallow Motel.

In Gallup and Tucumcarie, NM, all has gone to seed, even the Blue Swallow, TeePee Curios and the so-called Welcome Center, all of which appear to be flea-traps and not one was open: hour posted show they close at 1PM.

We passed the Cadillac Ranch and saw about 10 cars pulled to the side of the road, people walking from the site where about 10 wow-painted Cadillacs are buried half-way in the ground. There is no charge to gaze at them.

We over-nighted in Shamrock, TX, which made no map I was holding, but the town has been a stop-over on Route 66. The lobby of our hotel screamed “Route 66.” A photo of the U-Drop Inn is framed and the once famous motel beacons with green neon spires.

We stopped at Clinton, OK, because ROAD TRIP USA promised the World Famous, Best of the Best, Route 66 museums – and a gift shop! It is, indeed, a phenomenal tribute to the Mother Road – Main Street USA. The museum is fun, interactive, colorful, and educational.

As long as there are people who refuse to let their little towns die, as long as there are preservationists who treasure the work of a bygone era, as long as neon flashes brightly, setting the darkness aglow, there will be the glory of Route 66 and those who love it.

Land and Family: The Forever Value of Both

Expansive beauty in a decidedly different vein: The American Southwest. Kathy said, “If you’ve seen this beauty, why would you go in search of beauty elsewhere?” That’s Kathy, my cousin, who has lived in the American Southwest since she was a young girl.

I’ve always been drawn to the palette used by artists: turquoise, orange, yellow, brown, tan. The arridness of the area, however, does not appeal to me.

Tom, my brother, first introduced me to the spectacle of unusual rock formations. It was with him that I first beheld “purple mountain majesty.” He lives in Colorado.

Kathleen Stanton, the same person as Kathy named above, retired from a career in newspaper copy editing and writing, and immersed herself in the land, the people, the culture, and customs.  She and husband Larry Charlie, own sixteen acres in Mora County, NM. Their home is a refurbished 100 year old adobe structure. Each of the other two owners added what appealed to them such as vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, and additional windows. 

At the back of the main property the couple found an abandoned three room adobe that once housed over sixteen family members during another era. Kathy, Larry, local artisans and craftsmen have brought the structure to new life with techniques making it not only attractive but most accommodating. The colors and textures of the walls, the hand-crafted stylized framing, and the beautiful hand-hewn wood of the cabinetry in the kitchen section are to be admired. The three rooms and an entry area make it a wonderful guest house.

Not only did we have opportunity to visit with Kathy and Larry, she and I shared family stories and pictures. To make the time in New Mexico complete, on our way to Mora, we visited with my Aunt Betty who is living in a lovely home for the elderly (she’s 94) in Rio Rancho. When I took her hands in mine and told her, “Aunt Betty, I’m Margaret Jane,” she said in the voice I’ll always remember, “Oh, no you’re not.”  After she comprehended that, indeed, I was sitting in front of her telling her I loved her, we had a nice visit, one that was rewarding on an emotionally profound level.

It was during the summer of 1966 that I last saw my Aunt Betty and her daughter Kathy.  We’ve all changed, but when you look deeply into a family member’s eyes, you see the person you’ve always known.

You Can't Be Prepared For Such Wonder

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At each vantage point, each turn along the rim, the vista before us changed. No one can be prepared for such wonder, even if the History Channel and NG Channel are favorites.

The crowds during this fall season are down in number, as one might expect, but as at no other National Park, there is a reverent hush among those viewing the majesty spread before them.

Some younger folks hike the rim and venture out onto the rock ledges. Good for them. We ventured as far as our 60+ bodies and hearts would allow. We were really nervous for some of the folks who hopped and climbed along the outcroppings.

The sun alternately hid behind threatening rain clouds, but would peek through and light expanses within the canyon. Clouds and mist that had formed at lower elevations drifted upward, and from time to time, the mist shrouded the views.

We walked the “blue trail” and must have snapped hundreds of photos, “Ooooh, look at this!” We’d stroll a little further and another exclamation: “That is astounding – look over there!” Tonight, we’ll put Marvin’s photos on the computer and experience the grandeur, the beauty again.

After an afternoon snack, we took the advice of one of the Park Rangers and drove along the east rim to a lookout tower said to have been inspired by Native American watch towers. We climbed as much of that as we wanted and snapped more photos. 

It amounted to the majority of a day at Grand Canyon before we set our sights for Flagstaff and Gallup, NM along I-40 E, the land of Route 66.

Thus far, we’ve traveled about 5200 miles on this remarkable journey. Marvin has driven all but about 100 miles of it and has been as wonderful as anyone can be when dealing with a  directionally challenged navigator. 

Our GPS is great in most circumstances, and we’ve learned to go ahead and put in the destination point and let “bossy bertha” lead us by the nose.

We each have commented that we are grateful to be able to share this experience with the other.

Bright Lights

Much can change in 10 years and much can remain the same. Take the Vegas Strip. It has changed and yet it has remained the same. The What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas slogan suggests people can do anything they want and "no one will tell." You know that's not true, reference Southaven's Greg Davis. Anyone with a cell phone and a Facebook account negates privacy. Las Vegas is still big and bright,and over-the-top wheeling and dealing. Huge hotels, sky-high LED signage, and plenty of patrons.

We enjoyed a lovely hotel room and a great Italian dinner at a little bistro near St. Rose Parkway. We split my all time favorite Italian dessert: tiramisu.  Oh, yum!

Hoover Dam was an easy drive on Saturday moring from Henderson, NV(The roads have vastly improved since Tom, Lois, Rich and I took the Dam tour.), We arrived in no time at all. Because we have a covered truck bed, we had to go through an extra inspection for security. They found our Sequoia cones! (no problem)

We took the Power Plant Tour with Joe, our guide doing a super job! The dam is an amazing engineering feat, so you can well imagine that Marvin loved it and took many pictures and listened intently while on the tour.

The sun broke through and promised a great day. Our drive over the especially tall dam bridge took us onto 93 S to Kingman and Good Ole' I-40 East, heading for Williams, AZ, our overnight stop before the Grand Canyon.

Wouldn't you know, Williams, AZ is on Historic Route 66. This is another part of the trip that I've been anticipating, though I did not know Williams would also be a Route 66 experience. The city has taken the Historic Route and old buildings have become diners, western shops, steak houses, stores selling Native American pottery, and over-priced souvenir and gift shops.

Had a great evening and we look forward to a super tomorrow.

The Great American Road Trip Detour

BREAKING NEWS:  Flash Flood, Mud Slides, Rock Slides- video shots show cars and trucks avalanched by mud cascading off desert mountain walls.

As we left Sequoia NP, the sprinkles had begun and we observed off to the south a huge, dark cloud, heard rumbles of thunder, and saw jagged cloud to cloud lightning. A good, slow, soaking, steady rain would be good for this dry, parched area, we thought.

Thing is, when the rain comes so hard and fast, it makes mudpies that slide right off the side of the mountains, creating larger and larger mudpies, dragging rocks and boulders with the mud.

We did not know that circumstance as we were making the hairpin switchbacks coming down from Sequoia. It had not affected the area where we were touring and neither of us anticipated any trouble. 

Neither did we know that our sleep-cheap motel was in “downtown” Visalia (an entirely different story to be related, maybe, later). We drove, instead, on down Hwy 99 S to Delano, CA, where the hostess told us they’d had a deluge.

The following morning, we set our GPS for Henderson, NV, located strategically between Vegas and Hoover Dam. About two minutes out of Barksdale, CA, we saw evidence of what happens in this kind of desert environment. Rock and mud slides had closed 58 E. Flashing signs were being placed in the median by state Highway Guys.

Quick like a flash of evening lightning, Marvin cut the median and wheeled around into the return to sender direction. He drove 25 feet and pulled onto the median, parked, and approached the State Highway worker for information.

The short of it is this: there’s a long way to Vegas.

The worker explained how to detour around the incident, though the route would be “a long and winding road” to Isabella Lake on Hwy 178 N, over to 395 S, on the other side of a Sierra Nevada mountain range.

We pulled across and whipped on over to the Cheyenne exit, we and about a hundred other vehicles; the 18-wheelers had already pulled off the road and were preparing for a long overnight because 58 E would not be open for another day.

I met a family traveling to Vegas and chatted with them while Marvin topped off the gas tank at a local station. 

Off we went on another High Sierra desert adventure filled with natural sage grass, tumbleweed, and cactus tree landscapes. Also growing with irrigation were lemon, orange, and even some almond trees.

The opportunity to see this western countryside has provided us with greater appreciation for the bounty produced in America. We’ve also been awestruck by the different kinds of beauty stretching as far as the eye can see.

Gulliver's Travels: We Become the Lilliputians

We ventured today into Sequoia National Park, home of the Giant Sequoias: General Grant and General Sherman.  Hmmm. Will have to think about those names. They were giants, all right, giants of another sort.

A little arbor information:  Redwood Sequoias are the Tallest of the Sequoia family.  Giant Sequoias are exceptionally tall, but the Giant designation comes from their breadth – they are the most enormous in diameter and circumference (had to throw in some math words for good measure!)

Into the forests that make the upper regions of the Sierra Nevada Mountains dense with trees – up to over 8000 feet we drove. We admired orange groves along the wayside in the Fresno, CA, area and had lamented the overall vegetation’s thirst for water. So many grasses and plants have dried up and dead, brown grass borders lush, green, irrigated fields of fruits and vegetables.

We are in awe of the size and age of these sequoias and so are many others who made the journey to the top with us – quite a few are French, some are German, Swedes, Hispanic, - at this time of year, few if any children are traveling. We walked and walked, sometimes staggering from looking up for so long.

We hiked to see the General Sherman tree – largest living tree on the planet! The sequoia’s cinnamon color bark is the mark of a mature tree. Teenage, adolescent trees are gray and their limbs are starting to look more like a Christmas Tree.  Babies are tiny specimens with very soft growth. Sequoias lose their lower limbs as part of the maturation process. Fire, too, is part of the ecosystem, with sequoias able to withstand all but the very hottest, most intense flames due to excessive amounts of tannen.

What an incredible experience – learning, seeing, sharing God’s majestic plan as it unfolds all around us.

PS - We were close to that huge rainstorm, getting some showers as we came down from the Sequoia Natiional Park.  We are not headed to Los Angeles. Have you seen the news about the mud slides?

Redwood Forests GIve Way to the City by the Bay

From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream Waters…you know the rest and the beauty of the song can’t compare to the beauty of our nation.

Giant is not enough of a word. Gargantuan is more like it coupled with towering and majestic.  Add skyscrapers and finish off with a soaring adjective. Sunlight blinks through the thickness of the groves, dappling the roadway and landscape. Redwood sequoia is the tallest species in the sequoia family.

We traveled the Redwood Highway (101 S) and happened upon our first sighting on Walker Road. An immediate pullover was available which we grabbed.

Hopping out of the truck with cameras at the ready, we could not get enough of these trees’ spectacular beauty.  Along the Avenue of the Giants to Founder’s Grove and then the Drive Thru Tree, we traveled the length of California’s Redwood Forest.

We then drove on south for many miles thru Eureka, CA, a Victorian town with the iconic Carson Mansion.  We tried to speed on, but 65 MPH is max along these highways. We arrived at Windsor, CA for an overnight stay before adventuring in SF, the City by the Bay.

We have 5 or 6 iconic landmarks on our check sheet:  #1 – Drive Across the Golden Gate Bridge.  #2  See Pacific Ocean on Hwy 1 with surfers.  #3 Drive down Lombard Street. #4  Experience Pier 39 at Fisherman’s Warf.  #5  Ride the Cable Cars.

We did all those things AND saw Nob Hill, Golden Gate Park, Alcatraz (several escapees were wandering around), Coit Tower, Sir Frances Drake Hotel, and we drove across the SF Bay Bridge, eastbound, on the lower deck.

The breeze off the bay kept temps in the mid to high 60’s and as we were leaving, the fog was rolling in, providing a chill to the air.

Knocking on wood at numerous times, and after negotiating Houston Traffic with 8 lanes and ramps with speeding vehicles exiting and entering, toll roads everywhere, SF was not nearly what either of us were expecting, especially when compared to Houston’s congestion. SF highways  has five lanes max and relatively even speed coming into town. Exiting town, driving over to Highway 99 was not quite so easy with much stop and go traffic and one car throwing out a fireball onto the highway.

Motorcycles dart in and out of interstate traffic and rev their engines if you don’t yield to them fast enough. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

SF is a pretty city, but my heart rides along with me.  I didn’t leave it in SF.

Louise and Clark Find the Pacific Ocean

Thomas said it,  “You will be surprised by the vastness; the distances are not what you are accustomed to.” OK, so my brother was right for once! My trusty Rand-McNally and Road Trip Book of the Ages indicates destinations are but a whistle-stop apart. Each is at least 20 miles from the other. In fact, we ran out of daylight and time (even with 2 hours on Pacific Time) making our way to the Pacific Ocean.

Another piece of truth:  to see what is advertised about the Pacific and its glorious essence, head for Lincoln City, not Tillamook. We finally found Cape Lookout and Meyers Scenic Viewpoint, but they are not close to each other. In fact, the roads split and there’s a choice, Robert Frost. We chose Cape Lookout.

It was there that I felt Lewis and Clark’s exhaustion and disappointment. Not only were we beat to our socks, but we were off the 101 highway by many miles to get to the lookout point. There, the Pacific just meekly washes onto shoreline, a brown beach with driftwood and rocks askew.

However, on down the road, we saw mist rising and we pulled over on a turnout. VOILA’! There! This was what we’d expected! Roaring, rumbling, raucous Pacific pounding the shoreline!

We were burning daylight by the second and Highway 101 did not, at this point, hug the coastline. When it did, beginning more at Lincoln City, it was late and dark and we were behaving like two exhausted travelers. We should have turned back at Pacific City and driven the 50 miles over to Salem rather than driving the road to Florence and then over to Eugene.

As it turned out, we decided to take the day and go back in the gorgeous sunshine to Florence and Cape Perpetua, enjoy the scenery, take pictures, and ride along on a Dune Buggy Adventure. More on that FUN next time.

Road to the Sun

Are there words to describe the Going to the Sun Road? Glacier National Park did not occupy a slot on our itinerary, but then Nancy said, “Oh, you can’t come to Montana and not see Glacier!” How glad we are that we took her advice.

The majesty of the mountains, glaciers, and road to get to the top had us playing a word game. Here are some paltry descriptors: astounding, breathtaking, towering, timeless, staggering, gargantuan!

The 150 mile drive on Hwy 93 from Missoula, MT to Whitefish and Kalispell terrible, though, after going 80 on fantastic interstate highways. The varying speed limits ranging from 60 to 25 with no seeming rhyme or reason for the variance was a nightmare to drive. But, we did it. So glad we did and incredibly glad we saw Glacier NP with its splendor and the fall colors.

We got back to Missoula and then whisked over  through Idaho on a bobsled ride down the mountains into the Bitterroot Range with the forested blankets on either side of the highway. Our dash-cam has captured the thrill-rides along with the beauty.

We’re in Spokane Valley, WA, preparing for another adventure following 90 and then 84 along the Lewis and Clark Route to the Pacific Ocean. We’ll follow the Columbia and Snake Rivers as they did!