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!

Have a Montastic Day

“Have a Montastic day,” is printed on literature. 

Aspens and other trees have turned their luxuriant fall color. Vast is an understatement. "Unless you see it with your own eyes, you can't believe what anyone tells you," said Marvin as we navigated the ribboned road. Montana is a huge state with highways twisting through the Rocky Mountains, the drive made easy because of the expanse of the landscape, the grades being long and gradual and the speed limit having been raised to 80 MPH this past week.

“We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d drop by,”said Jane to Nancy Thompson, friend from Memphis, Covenant UMC, David-Ben-Justin (the Three Wise Guys) days. This is the Nancy who now lives in Columbia Falls, MT. Nancy was amazed to know we were in the state. “You can’t come to Montana and not see Glacier National Park.” The short of it is that we decided to do just that, and perhaps drive into Canada since we’re so close. 

Got to visit briefly with Nancy and see her fabulous home. None of us could believe that she had company from Memphis this very week!

Tomorrow, Saturday, we’ll see what the day will bring for this one, Friday, has given our flexibility a stretch.

One Amazement After Another!

           “One amazement after another,” Marvin said as we looked at the video from our dash-cam last night. I had truly lucked up on a brand new hotel outside of Billings, MT. Billings is home to quite a few refineries of various description, so we stayed on the outskirts of Billings and had a wonderful night’s rest.

            The landscape, the vastness of the fields and wide open spaces is hard to fathom or explain. Over 2 miles of sunflowers, and hundreds of acres of prairie land with corn, wheat, sugar beets, etc.

Then, out of nowhere: Badlands.

The Teddy Roosevelt National Park, South with a stop at Painted Canyon Visitor Center. While we had seen the South Dakota Badlands on our 2013 adventure to Yellowstone, seeing it again and in a bordering state has been magnificent.

Honeybee hives and oil dereks, aspens and Big Sky make for gorgeous sights. One Amazement after another!

I love traveling with my buddy – it’s great to share life, share our thrills, “see the USA in …” our FORD truck! 

BTW: I'm riding down I-90 with my computer hooked to the Mobile Hot-Spot on my Phone. How cool is that!!

Surprises Galore!

               The greatest thing about vacations is they are full of surprises.

               Like this one: SURPRISE!  KNOCK!KNOCK!KNOCK! EVACUATE THE BUILDING.

               Some idiot on the 3^rd floor smoked in a Non-Smoking facility and set off the smoke alarm.

Firemen in big suits and hats, with trucks, and the two of us throwing on clothes at 4:30 AM. Now, that’s a surprise.

               No Fire. Early breakfast. On the road! From outside Madison, WI, northwestward, Ho! (The Cheese House with the Mouse was right across the street from the hotel.)

              

Wisconsin Cheese is deliciously creamy. Nobody moved anybody’s Cheese – it’s everywhere in Wisconsin – and worth the dollars I paid for a circle of 4 different cheeses.

               Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, famous American poet, never set foot in Minnesota but set his famous Song of Hiawatha at the Falls near the Mississippi River at Minneapolis. Minnehaha Falls, Nokomis Lake, Hiawatha Avenue.  

By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of his wigwam,
In the pleasant Summer morning,

  A Mall is a Mall is a Mall, though Mall of America is beyond large and has a theme park inside plus every store imaginable. American Girl! – Brighton – Pandora – Kate Spade, etc. Glad I got to see it!

              

  Corn is grown in abundance throughout Wisconsin, Minnesota, and into North Dakota. The fields are expansive and the hills roll on and on, until they don’t roll at all: North Dakota is flat as a pancake. Fargo passed in a blink and “You Betcha” we drove on past to Jamestown, ND.

               

Onward, Upward, Westward Bound

Should you wish to follow along with the adventures of our ultimate western US road trip, this will be the place to do so. A general comment or two  may appear on FB so folks will not think I've fallen off the earth, but the nitty-gritty of our Lewis and Clark (Griswold) expedition will appear in stories on this blog, More Than A Bracelet. You can follow this Blog and receive updates through your email account; you can also comment on the Blog Posts if you have a Google account, or email me at ellajane.jg@gmail.com.

I hope you'll ride along, sharing the experiences with me beginning Tuesday, October 6, 2015. 

Diva Dreams

Dream cars scream Identity. In anticipation of my upcoming Sweet 16^th Birthday, my parents did not buy me a car, but they did one just as good.  They allowed me to dream with a car catalog and choose.  Yeah, choose.

Like going into Dinstuhl’s Candies in Memphis today and choosing both a Turtle and a chocolate-covered strawberry.

Favorite color:  Baby Blue.  Favorite style:  sporty, classy.  Favorite accessories: trendy.

Car language:  Light blue Oldsmobile Cutlass with white leather interior, bucket seats, automatic on the floor, radio with rear speakers, and two-door body style.  Daddy ordered it from Laney Motors in Camden and they found one just like I dreamed and it was available for me to drive to school in January. 

It was to be our family “sedan” and the worst decision Daddy ever made regarding a vehicle.

I loved that car.  I felt like a Diva, Movie Star, and Fashion Model rolled into one when I drove through town with enough savvy not to perform the royal wave. With the windows rolled down that spring while drinking Cherry Dr. Pepper and Vanilla Coke from the Cow Bell, my girlfriends and I paraded to rock ‘n roll classics, serenading the various neighborhoods and downtown avenues.  We were hot stuff.

Sometime in July, the family received an invitation from our well-to-do friends, The Phillips. John G. “Bud” Phillips said “come on down” and spend a week in New Orleans. The Future King of Mardi Gras and soon-to-be CEO of LLE (Louisiana Land and Exploration), he is a native of Camden, a classmate and honky-tonk buddy of Mother and Daddy. He had fled the snares of IPCo. It’s not a big deal, except that my Cutlass and I fit with the image of the rich and famous. I could hardly wait for the adventure to begin.

Thomas (my younger brother) and I folded ourselves into the back seat of our two-door sports car with Mother and Daddy in the front bucket seats. Parents in control of the radio, parents smoking like two chimneys with the windows rolled up and the AC blasting, off we went to New Orleans. When the radio lost its KAMD signal, Thomas and I prayed for a flux capacitor.

             What a trip that was! It was Bourbon Street by day and the Roosevelt Hotel’s Classic Blue Room at night, with a stage floor table to see my favorite trio: The Lettermen. They were so good-looking and sang such dreamy love songs. Too shy to take the microphone handed to me as they walked by our table, I shrank like a hot-house violet.

 We whizzed around New Orleans in Bud’s Thunderbird with the trademark doors opening from the center outward. Yep, in my dreams, I was something! I have people. I know folks. I’m riding in a T-Bird! I drive a Cutlass!

Soon it was time to motor home with more to pack for the return trip.  Thomas and I had packages under our feet; the trunk was full.  And we had to transport fresh shrimp across state lines, as was the tradition.  Dry ice in an ice chest would keep the fresh Gulf Shrimp safe and healthy.  The cooler had to go in the trunk. Since no luggage rack was on this vehicle, Daddy rigged up one.  Somehow.  Don’t ask.

He covered the luggage with a tarp and strapped it down.  On top of the trunk.  The sound of wind ripping through the tarp was deafening.  The tarp began to come apart and the luggage shook. Daddy could hardly keep his eyes on the road ahead for glancing in the rear-view mirror and the side mirrors to be sure we did not litter the highway. Stops along the side of the road to secure the tie-downs lengthened our journey. We looked like the Jed Clampets without the Rocking Chair. So much noise whipped around that Daddy did not hear the siren of the Louisiana State Highway Patrol car.

Daddy rarely cursed in the presence of women and children.  He broke with tradition.

I slunk down in the back seat and tried to be quiet. Thomas, on the other hand, gave commentary on all the events as they unfolded. He was especially impressed with being pulled over by a soon-to-be Boss Hog.

We returned to our driveway that Sunday night with our exhausted bodies, battered luggage, and iced shrimp. And a ticket, the coup de grace.

That was the last night the Cutlass spent in the carport at 980 Truman.  Daddy drove it to Laney Motors Monday morning and I never saw that car or the movie star life again.