4-11-2016 Flagstaff, AZ

The scenery changed from brambles, brush and purple snow caps to red rock formations and now, 300 miles later, we are in Flagstaff, Arizona, one of our favorite places.  There is something for everybody, here.  It’s a college town, there is sunny heat, snow, a ski area, observatory, old town, a 2 to 3-hour long Fourth of July Parade and park festivities.  Oh, and it rains everyday.  Not for long, but every day.  That isn’t the good news, fyi.

Lore has it that the name “Flagstaff” developed over time based upon the stripping and whittling of a ponderosa pine to be used as a flagpole to display the US flag for the 100^th anniversary of our country on July 4, 1876.  Before this, the town was named Antelope Springs and Old Town.  It was settled on an old dirt road that lead to California and the main industries were timber and ranching.  The railroad was laid through the town and that and Route 66 put Flagstaff permanently on the map.  It is often called the “City of Seven Wonders” based upon surrounding forests, high peaks, canyons and a huge crater.  The Lowell Observatory houses the Clark Telescope.  Pluto was discovered and the moon was mapped for the Apollo missions using this telescope.  (Mickey was discovered after that.) 

Weatherford Hotel with pine cone

In 1900, John Weatherford opened the Weatherford Hotel, a historical landmark in Flagstaff.  It has been visited over the decades by the famous and the infamous, politicians to gunslingers, and is still open for business. 

You know how they lower the ball on New Year’s Eve at midnight in NYC?  Not to be outdone, in 1999, the townsfolk began the tradition of “Lowering the Pine Cone” from the roof of the Weatherford Hotel at midnight on New Year’s Eve.  We attended this event last year, agreeing that, whereas Time Square in NYC on New Year’s Eve may easily be left off the bucket list, one may not go through an entire lifetime without witnessing the “Lowering of the Pine Cone.”

"Ten... nine... eight... Happy New Year!"

New Year's Eve in Flagstaff

Finally, after having visited Flagstaff at least a half dozen times, we made it to Black Bart’s Steakhouse, Saloon and Musical Revue!  Yes, they were open, a miracle!  They serve great lamb, beef steaks and cold brews and the wait staff sings and entertains, backed up by the talented piano player.  We were seated near the huge log-burning fireplace and the evening was a really unique, cozy experience.

My Beloved had gone long enough without a pizza and was therefore on a mission.  It ended happily at Fat Olives, a seriously authentic Italian restaurant.  The centerpiece is the wood-fired oven, built in Italy by a fifth-generation Italian family from stones obtained in part from Mount Vesuvius. 

Fat Olives wood fired oven from Italy

The restaurant’s claim to fame is the certifications it carries based upon the strictest Italian standards, from the quality of the olive oil to the fineness of the flour used to make breads and crusts.  The award-winning chef makes breads, dough and cheeses fresh every morning, including mozzarella de buffala.  My quest to try unusual things I’ve never had before was once again a success.  My salad included wood-fire roasted Italian olives and artichoke hearts.  Roasted olives?  Delicious!  Lunchtime was a bonanza for us!

Wood fired pizza!

We are on our way home, now, Tuesday April 12^th.  Our internal homing devices know the way to and from Flagstaff, Arizona with our eyes closed.  What a wonderful adventure this has been.  Now, let’s see what we can dream up next!

4-9-2016 Durango, CO

Gas up here in the heartland for $1.70/gallon.  Other trivia:  signs along the highways read, “Keep Kansas Clean Next 2 Miles,” “Range Burning Area Do Not Drive Into Dense Smoke,” “Big Game Hunting Here, Elk Deer Bear Antelope” and in Colorado, “Marijuana for Sale.”  The expansive ranges are populated with cattle, horses, deer and antelope.  While cruising along at 75 mph, I spotted a steer that was on the wrong side of the fence and apparently on a singular mission to cross the highway.  I braked to a sudden and complete stop, tossing books, maps, phones, backpack and water bottles onto the cockpit floor.  (“Good brakes,” I’m thinking.)  The animal stood there looking at us, lower jaw chewing side-to-side, “What?!”  “Hey, wherever you want to go, Mr. 1,000 Lb. Steer (except through the radiator)!”  Slowly, I inched around him and we were back on our way.

My imagination paints a picture of a wagon pulled by oxen crossing these desolate ranges irregular with ditches, troughs and mud, criss-crossed by streams and tangles of brambles, bushes and pickers. You are the wife in a dirt-length dress and bonnet, sitting in the wagon (no a/c) with four tots and an infant and pregnant, being eyeballed by coyotes, rattlers and  restless, territorial warriors who think your scalp would make a nice tepee decoration. 

The wagon crests a hill, as we do now, and blue mountains topped with snow appear on the horizon.  She’s thinking what I would have been thinking, “Oh shit, what fresh new Hell is this?  Hey honey, why don’t we just stop here, till up the dirt a little bit, throw some water on a few seeds and see what happens?”  And he’s thinking, “Like, I know, right?”

Well I don’t know how the pioneers did it but the BFT navigated the paved highway nicely through the Wolf Creek National Forest in the rain and slushy snow and just before Pagosa Springs, up over the Continental Divide at Wolf Creek Pass (el. 10,850 ft.). 

It was a long slog but it didn’t seem like it because of the breathtaking beauty;  alpine meadows populated with herds of antelope and mule deer, burros, horses and cattle, towering snowy peaks covered with tall green fluffy conifers and bare skinny aspens, high icy waterfalls tumbling into deep canyons.  I don’t know how the folks manage.  I look at the isolated wilderness homes and my thought is, “Where’s Albertson’s?”  Big chalet-like homes have a marvelous view through windows up to the sharp peaked roofs and I ask myself, “Who cleans it?”

Spring has sprung in Durango. 

Daffodils are popping up and the trees are heavy with blossoms.  People who think that 60F is actually warm are running around in shorts and t-shirts.  It was a nice day to visit the State Fishery but it was closed. 

Rob with fish & chips
on the hoof

Fish apparently take weekends off.  Plaques informed us that in the wild, only 10% of rainbow and cutthroat trout survive to adulthood.  In the fishery, however, 95% make it and 1.4 million are turned loose into the lakes and rivers per year.  All I know is they are beautiful (on the plate next to my rice pilaf).

Rob in the BFT at the State Hatchery

We had lunch at the Diamond Belle Saloon in the Strater Hotel (estab. 1887) on Main Street.  It’s a stately structure, the centerpiece of Durango.  Louis L’Amour always stayed in room 222 and here he wrote several of his novels.  The original saloon was sold off for awhile to other businesses.  Earl Barker wanted to restore it but his Dad said he’d never make a dime.  So one time when Dad went out of town, Earl and a friend got busy.  Dad came home and saw what a great success it was and bragged that it was his idea all along.  Asshole. 

The splendid Strater Hotel

The building is a living piece of art and the rooms, parlor and saloon are filled with beautiful antiques of all kinds. 

At the bar in the
Diamond Belle

The stunning back bar was found in an old barn and restored.  The ragtime piano tinkles and there is a feeling of old west historic romance here.  The antiquity ends, however, with the pretty barmaids who are younger than my travel shampoo bottle.

Ashley and Deanna serve victuals
in the Diamond Belle Saloon

The bartender was born a year after Reagan became President.  My goodness.   You can reach out and touch both ends of time here in Durango, Colorado.

4-7-2016 TOPEKA, KS

Yes, sometimes the wind is fierce in our little town of Pahrump, blowing up quite a dust storm.  But that is just now and again, and nothing like the stubborn, severe, unforgiving wind in the plains states we are crossing.  There are whitecaps on the little ponds on the farm land and even the low-profile BFT is bouncing left and right on the highway like a ping pong ball.  No inattention nor casual grip allowed behind the wheel.  The man at the toll booth on the KS turnpike told us it is almost always this way, here.  It is, honestly, a little exhausting.

Copper plate and looking up at the dome

The KS Capitol Building, which was closed last time we were here in Topeka, is an elusive little rascal but we finally chalked up our 40^th capitol.The original structure was completed in 1903.  Striking by its abundance is the copper used to plate much of the ornamentation on the banisters, edge moldings and dome.  One nice lady in the Governor’s office showed us around a bit and said that there are people polishing the copper around the clock.  The floors are shiny marble and sparkle with the reflection of thousands of lights in the many chandeliers. 

Copper staircases

A fifteen-years-long (and $300 million) restoration project has just been completed.  During the work on the ceilings, the layers of boring white paint were chipping off and workmen came to realize that beneath the paint there were beautiful murals and decorative leafing.  The restoration took a sudden twist and the original ceiling art was saved. 

Ceiling murals that were found under layers of paint

Sam Brownback, a nice conservative Republican, was in the US Congress for a few terms but didn’t run again because he is one of the rare few who believes in term limits and actually walks the walk.  He returned home and became the Governor of KS in 2010.  We stopped in to say, “hello,” to good ol’ Uncle Sam but he was busy and we thought better of interrupting him.  We told his secretary, Zoey, to say, “Hi!” from Rob and Lindy from Nevada.

One claim to fame in Kansas is the monumental Supreme Court decision in the Brown vs. Board of Education case and you can read about it everywhere.  The Chief Counsel in this case was Thurgood Marshall, who went on to become a well-known SC Justice.  Oliver Brown from Topeka was one of the plaintiffs, although many states joined forces in this case.  The decision made the practice of school segregation based upon skin color unlawful, for once and for all.  The year was 1954, remarkably 89 years after the Civil War ended and the 14^th Amendment abolishing slavery was added to the Constitution.  The wheels of the human mind turn slowly, yes?

The restaurant de jour in Topeka was The Blind Tiger.  John Dean, the bräumeister, diligently creates tasty beers brewed right here on the premises.  A glass of cold raw wheat ale nicely washes down slabs of bbq ribs or charbroiled steaks in the highly-polished-wood bar room.  This restaurant was rated # 2 out of more than 200 in the city.  Next time you pass through Topeka, eat here!

We have arrived in Garden City, KS for a quick overnight stay.  Tomorrow we are on to Durango and a beautiful drive through Colorado!

4-5-2016 AMES, IA

The Kraus family festivities, which spanned 7 days for this girl, have drawn to a close.  It began and ended with bratwurst, sauerkraut and beer, and in between were sprinkled a lot of funny stories, jibing and politically incorrect, irreverent, occasionally x-rated razz-ma-taz.  Thank goodness for Confession!

Standing from L:  Swede, Linda, Bootsie, Bill, Carol, Larry, Beep,
 Dixie, Karen, Rob, Ray, George
Sitting from L:  Captain Bill, Patty, Lindy

The Midwest weather was typically all over the map:  sun, clouds, freezing temperatures and as we left town today, cold wind, rain, slushy snow and a bit of sleet.  The locals shrug and deal with it, running around in shirt sleeves.  “Hey, it’s April.  It’s supposed to be warm.  We can’t help it if it’s snowing!” 

Lindy on a side trip to Stillwater, MN
"So this is April in Minnesota..."

Rob and I personally miss sunny and dry.  Speaking of weather, our first stop on the return leg of this trip is Ames, Iowa.  Of note, the team name at Iowa State is “Cyclones.”  Fortunately, we are passing through at, shall we say, a “non-Cyclone” time of year.  Snowflakes, OK.  Cyclones not so much.

I pointed out to Spouse, “Gee, we bought a truck and drove 4,100 miles to retrieve 24 cents worth of junk from the farm!”  Ultimately, a worthy endeavor.  In the back bed, the precious cargo includes my childhood snow sled, the baton my big brother Bill gave me for my birthday, my brothers’ bows and arrows and hockey sticks, a wheel from our wooden buggy, our red Radio Flyer wagon and the family’s first record player.  We found on the spindle two little yellow plastic records, “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” and “I Taut I Taw A Puddy-Tat.”  Absolutely worthless and meaningless throwaways to some.  For me, these are little scraps of my childhood and gold-plated playtime with my brothers and sisters, things without which my story line would be incomplete.  These artifacts must have plucked a few of my brother Larry’s strings because, toward the end of the week end, more boxes materialized.  Now my treasures include my Dad’s prayer book and pictures of Gramma and Grampa Voitik and Great Aunt Kate.  I return home the richer.

Among the artifacts is an old football.  My big brother Dick (aka “George,” another long story) had a country paper route, as all my brothers did at one time or another.  In the Fall, the leaves on the two big maples in the front yard turned orange and red.  After school, in the late afternoon, we Three Little Kids would sit on the front stoop tossing the football from hand-to-hand and watch for Dick to come riding his bike toward home on the last leg of his paper route. 

The 3 Little Kids:  Larry, Lin and Mar

Dick doing the paper route accounting, 1959

When he turned into the yard, we’d yap like puppies until he would play football with us in the chill wind with the colorful leaves flying about.  We’d scream and giggle because he would run the length of the “field (the front yard)” with three little rats clinging to his legs trying to tackle him.  It was impossible.  He was just too big! 

Lindy, Larry and Marlene,
The Three Little Kids

Naturally, when we had the ball, he could gather all of us up in one grab and that was the end of those downs!  We played until the sun, or we, dropped.  What a good sport my big brother was!  Yes, that football will stay with me.

On the ISU campus, the Iowa House, now a bed and breakfast, is on the Historic Register.  It was originally the Delta Chi Frat House built in 1924.  What a gorgeous residence!  I’m pretty sure that if I had lived in a place like this when I was in college,

Iowa House

party-time would have far outweighed diploma-time.  There is a lot of dark wood, a beautiful fireplace, sofas and other beautiful furniture in the drawing room.  We are on the third floor in the “loft,” which has rafters and a spiral staircase up to a second bedroom. 

Rob in the loft room at Iowa House

Our room is furnished with an old secretary that could not be used because it was in disrepair.  The youngster (an ISU student) furnished us with screwdrivers and a bucket of screws and we made it functional.

Engineers fix the secretary

Tonight we ate where the locals eat:  The Hickory Park Restaurant Company.  This restaurant began 46 years ago and it is huge, with the capability of serving 450 guests at a whack.  The chefs smoke about 20,000 lb. of pork, chicken, turkey and beef per week.  Just amazing, delicious and a fantastic way to end our day in Cyclone Alley.