Going to the dogs in Kansas City

Isabella and the lap whore

Isabella is the daughter of my oldest nephew, Cory. Isabella, like many children these days, splits her time between her mother's house and her dad's. Happily for me Isabella was with her dad during my visit. My first night in Kansas City, I picked Isabella up from a play date at one of her classmate's house. Cory had a business dinner. Cory's brother, Coby, lives in Kansas City too. I had already hooked up with him earlier in the day and he had errands to run so he was not with us. Cory's partner, Suzanne, was at a social function, so Isabella and I had the evening together.

I had already been impressed with the twin's verbal skills. I had seen Isabella only a few months before at a family reunion in Alabama so had a more recent sense of her. Even so, I was similarly impressed with what a wise child is my nine-year old niece. We had a very engaging conversation about her school, her friends, and her very thorough view of the world. When Suzanne got home Isabella had her bath and fell asleep watching TV in her room. Turns out, I was lucky to have had the opportunity to visit one-on-one; because Suzanne announced - to Isabella's delight and my less-than-optimistic anticipation - that tomorrow they were getting a new dog. A four-month old daschund puppy who may or may not be house broken. I went to bed hoping for the best but expecting to be on guard for accidents the rest of the visit.

Isabella rampant on the field

Well, the new dog is adorable and house broken. It took him about fifteen minutes to move in. I nicknamed him lap whore because he automatically goes for the nearest seated person and hops right up. He adores Isabella, and she adores him. He adores Suzanne and Suzanne is most adoring and caring. He adores Cory. He adores Coby. Actually, I did not see him not adore anybody he came in contact with.

I took advantage of my time in Kansas City to have the oil changed in the car, and attempt to find the source of a mildly annoying high-pitched whir that manifests at highway speeds, some times but not consistently, and only when I am alone i the car. Of course with such a precise description and a test drive demonstration with the mechanic, of the fact that it only happens when I am alone in the car it was a snap to fix. If there had been anything fixable, but there wasn't, except the battery was gone.

As we were walking into the office to do paperwork, another Sebring pulled up and I heard the whir. I grabbed the mechanic and took him to hear it.

"It's the alternator," he said. "Perfectly normal in your car. Although the battery being so weak, it could be working the alternator harder." Made sense to me, and besides, I hadn't heard it since I got into KC.

Coby and I went off to meet Suzanne at their local Cheers. I picked up the car with a new battery a few hours later. Case closed.

The rest of the weekend visit was a pleasant montage of soccer games, museum outings, and hanging out with Isabella, the lap whore, my nephews, and their friends. On Sunday morning I said my good-byes and headed for Highlands, NC. The drive on route 64 was East Coast scenic. Long stretches of Cherokee National Forest on the verge of erupting in fall color along curvy roads that hugged the river. It was another beautiful day with a clear sky and the silence of open country. Except for a mildly annoying high-pitched whir that manifests at highway speeds, some times but not consistently, and only when I am alone i the car.

Family ties

From Sterling, Colorado to Lincoln Nebraska is about a six-hour drive but it was a major shift in the focus of the trip. The landscape had already started to change before I got to Sterling. The Colorado mountains had flattened out to the Great Plains coming out of Denver. Except for stretches of economic recovery paid for road work, which I had gotten used to on previous legs of the trip, the drive was uneventful. The day was the clear, the sky cloud-puffed, and the corn fields boundless. I was traveling through an immense plein air landscape. I arrived in Lincoln mid-afternoon. I had arranged to meet my niece, her husband, and their twin daughters at the pre-school where the girls are enrolled. I had some free time so I had lunch at a Mexican restaurant I passed coming into town.

On this trip, Mexican food was my default choice in a strange town. True, the quality varies, and if you eat all the rice and beans and a basket of chips with salsa, the calorie count is through the roof. For me, half portions (or just eating half) left me satisfied and feeling like there was still some connection to real food. Plus, I really like Mexican food, and on this trip I had many first-rate meals. El Rancho Autentico turned out to be a very good choice. The chili relleno was excellent, and the TG server provided an unexpected twist to the ambience.

Erin gets her face painted

At the day care center I waited outside for my niece, people watching the flow of young parents and toddlers. When Connor and Rod arrived, we wove through the flow, up to the twins' second floor classroom. 

I hadn't seen the twins in over a year. My time with them has been limited to annual visits either at family get togethers or on short visits. From the first time I saw them, I was entranced, of course. I mean they are exceptional in every way, not to mention beautiful. Yes, all children are exceptional and beautiful, but my three grandnieces (the third appears later) come from my gene pool and are still exceptional and beautiful. I think that is nothing short of miraculous.

Kelsey learning to swim

Any way, I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw them. Kelsey saw me and retreated between her father's legs to hide. Erin, ran to me and threw herself at me. I scooped her up into my arms and she immediately began talking to me like we were best friends and had known each other forever. I was a goner. By the time we got back to the house, Kelsey had decided that I was also BFF and the rest of the short visit a breeze. 

My family is a not atypical. My parents, both of whom are deceased, had two boys. I married, divorced, and did not have children. My brother and his second wife (and high school sweetheart) live in San Antonio. He has three children: two boys and a girl. Cory has a daughter, Isabella, from his first marriage. Coby is single, and Connor has the twins Kelsey and Erin. Cory and Coby live in Kansas City, Connor and Rod live in Lincoln. None of us lives in the place where we were born. We are scattered across several States. We get together as a family rarely. So for me to be shored with unconditional love from these magnificent beings is a real gift and wonderment. Home may be where, when you go there, they have to take you in; but family offers us the opportunity to experience unconditional love. Even if it takes several tries.

After pre-school parties, swimming lessons, art projects, and just plain fooling around, I headed off once again - this time to Kansas City to see my two nephews and my grandniece, Isabella. More about that later. For more pictures of all three of my exceptional, beautiful grandnieces go to my Smugmug album.

Not with a bang, but a sniffle

A head cold descended upon me full bloom somewhere between Lincoln, NE and Highlands  NC via Kansas City. It was a polite cold. It didn't knock me out until I was safe in Highlands. When it hit, though, it hit full force. I am now back in Sarasota, after an indolent week in Highlands, and regaining my wits.

The traveling has stopped for now, but the trip continues. I have returned to a blank slate. I am living moment to moment (all thanks to the universe for such a long string of sterling moments). I have not had a home for almost 6 years. Coming back to this loveliest of settings, where I am most fortunate to live in the company of my dear cousin, I realize that this is not home. Maybe I will never have a home again this life, It's of no great matter because, as my travels have taught me, I can settle in almost anywhere. Caution to anyone who invites me to "make yourself at home."

I will blog about the rest of the trip which was very family-centric and enjoyable. I may also try and put in words some of the thoughts that came to me - and are still coming to me. For now, I felt the need to put something down. 'Til next we meet....

Stops on the trip

A. Osprey, FL
B. Highlands, NC
C. Alexander City, AL
D. Tupelo, MS
E. Jackson, MS
F. San Antonio, TX
G. Columbus, NM
H. Las Cruces, NM
I.  Albuquerque, NM
J. Santa Fe, NM
K. Farmington, NM
L. Sedona, AZ
M. Palm Springs, CA
N. Los Angeles, CA
O, San Francisco Bay Area
P. Telluride, CO
Q. Lincoln, NE
R. Kansas City, MO
S. Highlands, NC
And that brings us back to A!

Telluride to Sterling, Colorado

If you lived here, you'd be Ralph Lauren

My route from Telluride to Lincoln was a bit convoluted. 145 to 62 to 550 to to 50 to 285 connecting with Interstates 70 and 76. I got as far as Sterling, Colorado tonight. It was another spectacular drive. Today's star is the aspen tree. The first half of the drive was golden and red-golden aspen trees stealing thunder from the mountains; conifer forests serving as a jeweler's cloth against which to display precious gold. Outside of Ridgeway, Colorado, I drove past Ralph Lauren's ranch. There are no signs, just a designer rail fence that stretches for miles separating passersby from a Bierstadt landscape.

US 50 east

Then it got flat. Not much else to say about that except you can see a whole lot of not much driving across northwest Colorado. The contrast between Telluride and Sterling is so great it's hard to believe they could be in the same State - hell - the same country.

Last night I was invited to dinner, actually David was invited to dinner and I was welcomed as his guest. The host couple was a superb combination of physical grace and gracious hospitality. The guests were five adults and one three-year old cherub with golden hair and blue eyes. All of the guests were year-round residents, fit, healthy, interesting, and attractive. The men and women were handsome, engaging, and spiritually lovely. Dinner was in a picture perfect bungalow on a street of picture perfect bungalows surrounded by the awe-inspiring beauty of the canyon. The sky was ultramarine blue as we walked to dinner and black velvet arrayed with crystals and the milky way when we returned home. I felt like I had been invited to Asgard. The conversation was lively and some of it centered on injuries suffered by the group and others in and around Telluride on skis, or bikes, or motorcycles, or from falling rocks. David laughed that Telluride is a good place to die and everyone agreed. Stories topped stories of spectacular wipe outs and equally spectacular comebacks from near death (and a few who didn't make it).

Not included in the discussion were some other interesting tidbits I had learned about the area. At the end of the canyon where sits Telluride are capped toxic ponds holding mine tailings from the long defunct gold mines. Less than 50 miles upwind are uranium mines and a proposed uranium processing plant that has been given the go ahead from the State government. Does anybody remember the movie Pretty Poison? It hit me as I was driving away today that these exceptional people are drawn to a place that offers incredible beauty, phenomenal access to various forms of recreation, five medicinal marijuana dispensaries for a town of 2500, and a good deal of risk.

I have been to many beautiful places. Places where the land draws people who form community around that attraction. Santa Fe, Sedona, San Francisco, Palm Springs are prime examples. I can't recall ever being in a place where both beauty and danger formed such a compelling lure.

Don't get me wrong. I adore these people. I adore their physicality, their openness, and their vitality. I think Telluride area is one of the most spectacularly beautiful places I have ever been - including New Zealand the title holder for most spectacularly beautiful country. As much as I love being around these people, the life they have chosen is one for which I do not have the courage. Bless them. And hopefully they'll let me come back and wallow in the beauty of the place if they read this.

US 50 and Telluride, Colorado

Nevada Beach, Lake Tahoe

I left Walnut Creek on the 21st of September. I took Interstate 80 to Sacramento where I picked up US 50 that runs 3,052 miles from Sacramento to Ocean City, Maryland. The first day took me through Lake Tahoe and Carson City before opening up on to what Life Magazine once called the loneliest road in America.

Lonely, desolate, magnificent, grand, beautiful are all adjectives I would use to describe the road between Carson City and Ely, NV (pronounced eelee by the locals). The spaces are so vast I felt the camera could not properly capture the landscape. I would go an hour without seeing another car on the road. The towns are few and far between. There are no services for the hundred mile stretch between Fallon and Austin. It was magnificent.

US 50 East

My first night was in Ely, a dump of a town where I was lucky to find a motel room. Between the bikers, hunters, and men in Haliburton jumpsuits in big black SUVs the town was full up. I did manage to find a motel (I use the word loosely) that still had a room but no Internet connection. So, I went to bed early and got out of town at first light after a decent breakfast that featured what the locals call a scone, but is really Navajo fry bread with goop on top. On bite was enough to satisfy my craving fro this local delicacy for all eternity.

My plan had been to drive to Moab, Utah the next day but travelers I met said they had a problem finding a room there. As a result I decide to push on through to Telluride. The day took me through more incredible scenery with not much more signs of civilization. The signs I did see made me grateful that there weren't more. At Scipio, Utah US 50 joins Interstate 70. That stretch between Scipio and the turn off to Moab has got to be one of the most spectacular stretches of highway anywhere. By the time I got to Moab, I was so sated with scenic splendor I breezed by Canyonlands and Arches national parks only stopping for gas. Moab is the gateway for Arches and Canyonlands and a mecca for off-road bicyclists. The town was indeed packed so I was glad I still had a few hours of daylight to make the final stretch.

Paradox, Colorado

I got to Telluride after dark. Fortunately I was on the twistiest part of the road before the sun set. David Oyster, a classmate from college and former roommate from my salad days in Los Angeles welcomed me into his home and we stayed up talking. The next morning I walked out to the living room to a jaw-dropping view of the mountains and the town below. David conducts 4 wheel drive tours of the Imogene Pass that runs through the abandoned mines above Telluride and had one scheduled for the morning. I was able to join the tour that was a treacherous climb up a marginal road past abandoned mines and mind-boggling views to the summit at 13,000 plus feet. Telluride is at 8,700 feet. Fortunately I had spent the last day mostly above 5,000 feet so I wasn't completely overcome by the altitude. During the gold rush days there was a mining town named Tomboy about half-way up the pass. There were dozens of mines in the area. Tomboy was larger than Telluride at the time. Today the mining days are long gone and only a few ruins and boarded up mine entrances remain -- well, and some capped toxic tailings ponds. There had been snow the previous week so we couldn't make it to the summit. If David hadn't been driving, we might not have made it back down. Not a road for novice drivers.

Imogene Pass

Back in town we went to the local farmers market and had lunch. That night David made a fabulous meal of organic local chicken, summer squash, and lentils. My contribution was margaritas made with fresh lemon and lime juice.

The next day, I attempted a yoga class but the effects of altitude finally caught up with me and I was only able to finish half the class. In the afternoon we took of to Gateway, Colorado to rendezvous with cyclists completing the 100 mile Telluride to Gateway Ride. The drive there through Dolores River Canyon tests the limits of my adjective vocabulary. I had never heard of this place but it is as astounding. We took Colorado route 145 along the Dolores River. Yet another magnificent stretch of land. We had a late lunch at Dolores Canyon Resort before heading back to Telluride along the lower canyon road. Another day of superlatives.

Dolores River Canyon

More pictures on Facebook:

US 50 East

A drive up the mountain

Dolores Canyon