Saving the Best for Last!

After Nashville, my assignment was to point my little self homeward. First, I treated myself to a night at the Seelbach Hotel, on Muhammed Ali Boulevard in Louisville, Kentucky. This was a regular stop during another business life that ended about 22 years ago! It was Louisville where I watched the Red Sox win -- yawn -- yet another World Series... wahoo! Then a night in Maryland where I enjoyed the highest-mounted showerhead I've ever found in a hotel. (Please note that this steamy shotwill be the only naked picture of me in this blog.) As you tall people out there know, high-mounted showerheads are unheard of in the hotel world, and a welcome relief.

Before I knew it the highways looked familiar, as I crossed the Hudson River into New York City on the George Washington Bridge.
Seeing the GW Bridge was a childhood treat that I can remember back to the early 1960's, when we'd use it as a reference for finding the Little Red Lighthouse en route to visiting my Gram in Manhattan!

The GW meant I was minutes from Ted 'n' Sue's in Pelham Manor, so I spent a restful night in the suburban splendor of Westchester County. Ted baked a homemade meatloaf to celebrate, and we had a generally homey evening before I headed into Connecticut the next morning, where I visited and lunched with Auntie and Unc in Wilton, clear proof that I had indeed saved

The Best for Last!

I've just driven 10,500 miles around our nation of spectacular beauty, enjoying culinary delights, goosebump panoramas, the best in architecture, and the warmest hospitality, but nowhere was the food better, were the views more awesome, were the buildings and grounds more impressive, nor was the hospitality more heartfelt than at Auntie and Unc's!For fifty years now they've been the best Aunt and Uncle a youngster such as I could have, and checking in with them in Wilton was an apt reminder I was returning to home that day... to New England and to my family!

Nashville Nights

Nashville is an absolute gas, a huge surprise, and has landed hard on my "I Shall Return" list! What a fun little city.

Had I not just been in Mississippi I would have never thought that going to Nashville would feel like going north, but oooh boy, Tennessee is way north of Mississippi! I now understand the difference between the Deep South and what Tennessee people call the Mid South. OK, maybe I don't understand it, but I sure notice it. Notable differences include the presence of bookstores, and the high proportion of houses and other buildings that had complete roofs-doors-windows to keep the outside where it said it was.

I'm only here for a couple nights before I officially begin my trip home, but that's plenty of time to marvel and mingle in the downtown live-music scene, see a concert at the Grand Ole Opry, check out the Vanderbilt University campus, and generally avoid eating good-for-you food for 48 hours.

Here's my first dinner.
If it looks like "Fritos Chili with Melted Cheese," that's because it is. I did not need the ash tray, but yes, there are some bars where smoking is somehow legal.

There is free, no-cover-charge music at ten or twenty bars or music halls downtown... drop in and enjoy it all. (Some eves around 9 PM some places start charging $5.) This barmaid had perfected a vast choreography of impressive whiskey-bottle-tossing tricksto accompany the band, but I decided this isn't how I want my daughter to impress people. There's lots of country music, but also lots of rock, good cover bands everywhere, a rockin' dueling piano bar, and lots of reminders about how many, many talented musicians duel to earn a living!

I went into a karaoke bar for the first time in my life, because I couldn't believe what a powerful voice I heard blasting onto the sidewalk. There I saw a young diva, strutting the bar,
belting out the rock tunes with as much heat and heartand talent as anyone on your iPod!

I was lucky to buy an extra ticket from the Fun Family From Fresno (CA) who had bought Ma
a birthday trip to the Grand Ole Opry. They discovered I was a country music novice, took mercy,
and patiently explained the whole evening as it unfolded. I saw Vince Gill (had I known that Charlie Daniels was playing the night before...), and the official Opry induction of Josh Carter... evidently country music fans would be wowed by either of those events! Fun music, and, man oh man, that Josh Carter has quite the voice for a young 29-er!

Ole Miss

I already like it here in Mississippi, and I'm still in Loozianna! Friendly people on the other end of the telephone, a warm, humid weather forecast, and good food
bode well for good riding through the Deep South. Following a tip from the great bike shop in Austin, I stopped to eat in Saint Francisville, Loozianna. At the Cypress Grill I ordered up the seafood platter, which comes with fried shrimp, fried oysters, fried stuffed crab shell, fried frog legs, and fried catfish. I did not know that catfish and frogs came from the sea, but travel is all about learning, isn't it? The other patrons just returned from the annual prison rodeo at nearby Angola max-security lock-up, where "they hahd moankees rahdin' doags!" Good food, great entertainment.

I planned to ride from Natchez, Mississippi

to Nashville, Tennessee (5-6 days) on the Natchez Trace National Parkway, and then ride The Dog (yes, this is America, and the Greyhound bus still exists) back to Natchez to fetch the diesel. But then Kay (on the phone in Nashville) told me how Gordon In Natchez might be able to shuttle my car part way for me. Gordon was busy, but he said Walt could drive my car 100 miles to Jackson, Mississippi. John and Valerie knew Walt because Walt's mom works for John. So even though I never met Kay or Gordon or Walt, don't know their last names or addresses, before ya' know it, I'm leaving my car key on the credenza at John and Valerie's place, so John could take my key to work to give to Walt's mom to give to Walt so Walt could drive my car to a B&B in Jackson, where Walt would leave the key in the painted 'fridge on the side porch (egg compartment), whereupon he would hop in his buddy's car who followed him and return to Natchez, where Walt would presumably continue to live a full and happy life free of traffic jams, snow shovels, presidential primaries, and substantial worries. Welcome to Mississippi.

Natchez is a pretty town, where the river runs wide.
Tour the houses, the town,
enjoy the hospitality. Check out Ronny Brown's good luck. First he wins the Sheriff election, then he scores a new hot rod.
I stayed at John and Valerie Bergeron's B&B, a gorgeous magazine home they've turned into a B&B. I arrived in the middle of their private dinner party, and instantly found myself at the dining room table eating my second supper in an hour. What a treat!

Bike Day One turned into Bike Day Only, as cool rain fell for five straight days,
and I was not up for a week of wet riding! I rode 90 wet, chilly miles from Natchez to Jackson, stopping half-way at the Reformation Cafe for a multi-hour Gould Academy conference call in Port Gibson. I arrived dripping wet,
but they welcomed me, and fed me nonstop for four hours while I was on the phone: eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, salad, fries, baked potato strips, an oyster po'boy sandwich, coffee, coffee, coffee, and on and on!

Earl and Shirlee
treated me to a cozy night in the former slaves quarters
of their beautiful B&B near Jackson. They bought a truly decrepit house, and their ambitious rehab
of this treasure landed them a segment on HGTV!


Earl ran for mayor here, and still keeps the perfect parade car in the barn...one of my favorites, a Model A Roadster!


Jackson is the state capitol,




and it's where I met Pere the Welder Man
who specializes in some wild and inventive barbecues,
most of which are ready for trailering.
Pere lamented the state of the US today, mostly concerned about illegal immigrants and their impact on unemployment. "One day we're gonna wake up and say, 'Where's America?' And it'll be gone, like the '59 Cadillac!" Pere is one of the only people in Mississippi concerned about unemployment, and even he is considering retirement, or as he says, "It's about time to go back to the house." Lots of people in Mississippi seem to have already gone back to the house.

Good eats right next door to Pere's...

I ate breakfast on the beautiful campus and amidst the amazing facilities of the University of Mississippi. Oxford is different from the rest of Mississippi, and I knew that when I saw a Volvo wagon being driven by a man with a dog.

When driving through Tupelo, Mississippi, do not miss the birthplace and boyhood home
of -- you already knew it, dincha'? -- ELVIS!

I asked Brian, the nice oil change man, where to eat. Brian said I had to go to Johnny's where Elvis ate, and he recommended I go to Johnny's before the Elvis museum, so I could also go after. "Order the Doughburger or the Slugburger. Johnny's is the bomb." I did as I was told (before and after), and Brian was right. The waitress told me I was even sitting in The King's booth, and suddenly I felt like unbuttoning my shirt, and my hips quivered, a tremor came to my voice... it was time to leave Tupelo.
Brian recommended a stop at the Indian mounds, 2,000 years old, on the Natchez Trace Parkway on the way out of town. He's been there, and he promised I could go their peacefully and feel "what they call some good Indian karma or something." I went at dusk, and I felt the karma, or something.
It was then a dark drive north up the Natchez Trace Parkway, briefly into Alabama,
then into Tennessee,

followed by a stop at Meriwether Lewis' grave site, at the scene of the suicide of one of American history's greatest adventurers.

Lance + Music = Austin, Texas

*** PLUS a Bonus installment (at the bottom of today's blog) on my second Illegal Mexican Immigrant Car Wash Experience!! ***

If you're traveling from New Mexico to Mississippi -- and isn't that what we're doing boys and girls? -- it's hard to miss Texas. I'd been eagerly anticipating a couple days in Austin, partly to ride on the roads Lance Armstrong has trained on
since he was a junior triathlete champ, and partly because of Austin's reputation for great live music and for being a generally fun place to be. The hype is right!



Imagine the energy from some rousing Scotch-Irish-Texan fiddle music, with an amped-up bagpipe... an amped electric bagpipe!

The bike shop recommendation from a hiking Austonian I met on the trail way back in Grand Teton, Wyoming (remember September?), gave me a big head start in finding Lance's routes: Bicycle Sport Shop on South Lamar... what an amazing bike shop! Complete with coffee bar, smoothies, good-for-you sandwiches, and lots of cool and shiny bike candy. Thank you, Richard!

It was hot and dry and sunny and perfect, with rolling roads with short 'n' steep climbs, coarse chipseal pavement, little traffic, few intersections, and pretty sightseeing, Longhorn style!
I could have stayed here a long time, and I want to return. The little towns along the way are great, but without enough time I missed some neat LBJ and Lady Bird sightseeing, missed Lukenbach (where Waylin and Willie and the boys play!), and tons of great riding.

I think Lance ate a lot of Texas-sized pork rinds on his training rides.I did.

It was inspiring to ride on Lance's roads, and I'm pretty sure I was rolling at least as fast as Lance, and maybe a bit faster on some of the nastier climbs.

Hilly, too.

Man, remind me to avoid the rainy season
when I come back! This flood-management signage was everywhere. More of that Nevada-Utah water-repellent soil, I guess.

** Bonus Illegal Immigrant Car Wash Redux!!**

Whoa! Another by-hand car wash, featuring an army of labor, a $16 wash that includes everything except flossing between my dental implants, and you can double-up on that price to get a full wax job (the car, not your legs.) The gringo manager says the Happy Rag Whippers earn $6 - $8 per hour, there were over 20 of them on this afternoon,
and they wash 150 cars on a good day. OK, OK, I'm not positive they're illegal, but nobody else there thought they were Pledge-of-Allegiance Certified, either! Car washing is a spectator sport in Austin (Longhorns football had an away weekend and it wasn't yet quail season, when everyone goes out to blast shotgun pellets into little bitty fragile Dove Birds Of Peace) and there was a spectator reviewing grandstandso you could watch. Season tickets are available (no joke.) I spent part of my time in the grandstand, and part of it inside watching high-def tee-vee and using the free wi-fi... what a place!

The Bird Whisperer of Taos

Man, it's easy to fall in love with Taos, New Mexico!
It's all the better when living the adobe life with Dave Hahn, in his hometown of Taos. Dave says he has lived in Taos since 1985, but with 9 trips to the summit of Everest (and the rest of the year booked at Mount Vinson, Antarctica, South Georgia Island, Denali, Rainier, etc.) he has probably spent more time traversing the Khumbu Icefall than he's spent in Taos. The air and view from Dave's house were as clear and sharp as anything I've ever seen.
I met Dave a few years ago in the Alpes when he dragged my butt up Mont Blanc and Monta Rosa, then later across Shackleton's route on South Georgia Island, and up Mount Rainier. Dave's nine Everest summits might not seem like much compared to my 48 summits of Mount Washington, but he’s going at the pace he has chosen for himself and I'm still proud of him.

Turns out Dave was in Yosemite on the same days I was. He was on assignment from Outside magazine climbing El Capitan with Jimmy Chin, Conrad Anker, and Ivo The Crazy Bulgarian. Dave tells a good story, so it was fun to hear his perspective on big wall climbing, complete with all his personal fears and photos!
They were on the wall six days, climbing a tough Pacific Ocean route. Dave is an entertaining and insightful writer, so the Outside article will be a good look at big-wall climbing, and whole paragraphs of it will be true and accurate.

We went up the road to some beautiful backcountry behind the ski area, beside a little lake. It was mostly uphill, and Dave had no trouble keeping up with me even at this altitude. Good job, Dave. There was a light, dry, new snow on the ground, and again, the crispy air was so clean and sharp... I gotta come back with skis in the winter!
Dave is known as The Bird Whisperer of Taos. Here he is balancing a bird -- a Peregrine Falcon probably -- on his toes.

I headed downhill from Taos (everything is downhill from Taos), and pointed the car towards -- gasp! -- Texas!