We got up early and drove into Denver to find someplace with Internet access. We found a little place called Metropolis Cafe that probably had some of the best coffee we’ve ever had. Neither of us are coffee-heads, or coffee-aholics, or whatever they call people who are addicted to coffee, but this was good stuff. When I was done working we headed into the city to check it out.

Denver Art Museum, the U.S. Mint and exactly one mile high

We didn’t actually go to the art museum, but outside there was this large sculpture of a broom sweeping crumpled paper into a dustpan, so I took a picture of Bea from afar to make it look like she’s cleaning.

We walked around that general downtown area, which includes the state capitol building, a large city and county building, and plenty of parkspace. Both of us left Denver thinking we could probably live there pretty easily. Nice people, great weather, lots of things to do outdoors, etc.

So we walked over to the U.S. Mint and got ourselves some tickets to tour the place. Only thing was we had to go back to the garage where our car was to drop off our camera and cell phones because you can’t bring them on the tour. Only thing you can bring is a wallet and that’s it. You can’t even bring in outside change into the mint.

That tour was awesome, though. They were making pennies when we went in there. The blanks, which the mint ships in from an outsourcer, are in these huge bins. Then the machines suck them up and stamp them on each side, and then they get poured into another bin. One thing I didn’t know before is that all the coins made in Denver get shipped west of the Mississippi; all the ones in Philadelphia east of the Mississippi. There are also two other mints I didn’t know about. The one in San Francisco does proof coins (which are stamped a handful of times to make the image stand out more) and the one in West Point does investor’s coins and the Presidential Medals of Honor.

Anyway, the Denver mint makes something like $2 million worth of coins every day. Nice. This was one of our favorite sites in Denver, and actually favorite sites overall. We both got blank pennies as a free souvenir.

After the U.S. Mint tour, we retrieved our phones and camera and walked around some more, this time venturing up the stairs of the state capitol building. On one of the steps, I think it’s the 18th, you are exactly 5,280 feet — one mile — high. So we took a picture because we’re tourists and that’s what tourists do, and it was cool nonetheless.

East into the long state of Kansas

It was getting late by this time and we still had a healthy trip ahead of us to get to Kansas City. So we left Denver and headed east into Kansas.

Once you get east of Denver, Colorado flattens out like a pancake. And it’s a ways before you get into Kansas. After a while we drove into Abilene, Kansas, where Dwight Eisenhower was born. It was getting dark fast, and the museum and library were closed, but we were able to take a picture of his house, which was nice.

Along the way in Kansas we had to pass on a bunch of cool-looking roadside attractions because it was getting late. A quick list: The Oz Museum, Greyhound Hall of Fame, little Sweden, and lots and lots of forts.

Then we continued on continuing on. We weren’t really sure where we were going to stay that night. There were a few state parks we could camp at, but they were 30, 45 minutes out of our way. Plus, we drove through a couple of thunderstorm warnings in central Kansas on our way to Kansas City (never hit any serious rain), and as it was nearing the end of our trip, we weren’t sure that we wanted to get soaked by the rain. Bea had heard from her mom that they had gotten just pelted up there.

So as you can probably guess by now, we decided to stay in a hotel. We got to Kansas City around 10 p.m., maybe, and then started stopping at places, calling places, trying to find wireless Internet so we could look up places. Finally we ended up driving back west out of Kansas City, Miss., south through Kansas City, Kan., and into a southwest suburb called Overland Park. By this time, it was well after midnight, so we checked into the Doubletree, got our free cookies, ate them, and went to our room to sleep.

We woke in Moab, Utah and I started work in the KOA site, which had pretty good wireless Internet access. We got out of there around 1 p.m. again and headed north toward Arches National Park.

Arches National Park

It’s full of these naturally formed sandstone arches and spires that come in all different shades of red and orange and brown. The theory is that millions of years ago the area was once an ocean, and when dried up, it left a giant salt bed. Thick layers of rock were eventually deposited on top of the salt bed. Because there was salt underneath, the rock eventually eroded underneath, leaving these gaps that turned into arches and spires. Got it? There will be a test later on all this.

We didn’t have a whole lot of time here, so we weren’t able to drive and hike to the Delicate Arch, which is the most famous of the arches in the park. It’s the one that’s on a lot of Utah license plates. But we did get to go on a short hike to the North and South Window arches, as well as the Turret Arch. I actually think my favorite would have been the Landscape Arch, which is the longest in the park at about 300 feet. Sometime recently a 60-foot-long piece of rock just fell from the underside of this arch, making it even thinner. If you were under the arch at that time, you would have instantly become part of the geology.

East into Colorado

Once we crossed Utah and into Colorado, we started hitting these tremendous hills and our car’s engine groaned in protest, shifting to a lower gear automatically to pull us and all our junk up the inclines. At one point we were driving at about 11,000 feet and I was thinking that we were higher than any spot in New England, by about 6,000 feet. Our ears were popping like something that pops a lot, like soda or something, or like “pop,” as they call it in the Midwest.

For much of our Colorado drive, we were also following the path of the Colorado River, which was incredibly cool. At the Grand Canyon, we looked down at the river. Now we were driving alongside the river and looking up the mountains on either side of us.

Anyway, driving alongside the Colorado reminded me of William Least Heat Moon’s book River-Horse, where he travels across the country by rivers, from New York Harbor to the Columbia (even though he doesn’t go on the Colorado, I don’t think). If you haven’t read it, check it out. It’s probably my favorite book by him. It also reminded me somewhat of his more famous book, Blue Highways, because we were in the middle of a big trip. Then it occurred to me that those two books are about avoiding fast food chains and interstate highways and the general commercialization of America, and although we didn’t eat any fast food on our trip, we were all about the interstate highways. Then again, we didn’t have three months or however long it took for Moon to travel the country on its secondary roads, like he did in Blue Highways. I still think we’ve seen some cool things.

Vail and Cherry Creek

Eventually we drove into Vail, Colo. and took some pictures of the ski slopes and checked out the village areas there, which are very nice and fancy and so forth. But it was starting to get late by this point so we continued on toward Denver.

This was actually the first night in our trip to California and back that we didn’t have some kind of a reservation. Every other night, we had a reservation, even if we didn’t end up using it. But it was getting to be near the end of August and we were noticing that the campgrounds were less busy. The kids were going back to school. So we figured we would just find a campground and a spot pretty easily.

We were right. We went to Cherry Creek State Park just southeast of Denver and there were tons of spots. It took us about 20 minutes to figure out how to pay for a campsite during after-hours, but then we set ourselves up in a corner on a nice grassy spot. It was dark out but we’d gotten used to setting up the tent in the dark, so it was quick.

So we woke up at 4:30 a.m. We did this for a couple reasons. One, we wanted to see the sunrise over the Grand Canyon. Two, we wanted to be able to take showers before we did so, because we thought we were going to have to drive down to Flagstaff, Ariz. after the sunrise so I could find a place that had Internet access so I could work.

Grand Canyon sunrise

So we got up and packed up our tent and headed to the showers. It was about 5 a.m. and we discovered that the showers didn’t open until 6 a.m. That was the first knot in our plans. So we drove to Mather Point again, opened the sun roof, reclined our seats and looked up at the stars. We saw the Milky Way and Bea identified a bunch of other constellations (I’m not very good at spotting them). I nodded off and on until the sun started to come up, and then we got out with our digital camera and an extra blanket to stay warm and watched the sunrise. Again, amazing.

We left there about 6:30 a.m. to go back to the showers. There we found out that the Grand Canyon is always on Mountain Standard Time and doesn’t observe Daylight Savings Time. So according to them, it was 5:30 a.m. So we had to wait another half-hour to shower.

Finding Jenny’s

When we were ready to go, I was worried that by the time we got down to Flagstaff, I wouldn’t be able to work too long before we would have to leave for Utah. It was going to take us 90 minutes to get to Flagstaff and then another 5.5 hours to get to Utah from there, so we weren’t relishing the trip. Fortunately, we found Jenny’s Internet Cafe just south of the Grand Canyon in Tusayan. But it wasn’t open when we got there, so we drove into a nearby parking lot and I mooched free wireless Internet off a hotel in town (thanks Red Feather Lodge!). Once Jenny’s opened about an hour later, we moved there.

While I worked, Bea drove through the Grand Canyon Village some more and was able to take a picture of an elk that crossed her path. I was jealous that I missed that one. She also informed me that back at Mather Point, at an area with no guard rail, she saw an older, overdressed woman in high heels backing up perilously close the edge of the cliff so her husband/boyfriend could get a good picture. It would have been fitting if she fell off, I guess, seeing as it theoretically took millions of years for both the Colorado River to carve the Grand Canyon and for human evolution to occur through a little process called natural selection.

More Grand Canyon views

So we were able to leave Jenny’s around 1 p.m. and proceeded to go back into Grand Canyon National Park through the south entrance. We drove toward the east entrance, where we hadn’t been yet. The views we saw along this path were the best by far. Lapin Point, in particular, was amazing. You had a good view of the Colorado River, which from so far away actually looks like a dried river bed. We both commented on how incredible it was that a river could have carved that whole canyon into what it is today. Lapin Point was also amazing because you had an expansive view of the canyon to the west, and then to the north and east you could see the Colorado River meandering back and forth through the rock.

Another place we stopped was a stone watchtower that was built in the early 20th century for visitors. We climbed up to the top of the cylindrical building, where they had telescopes that you could pop a quarter in to see closer views of the Canyon and the Colorado. It was through those that you could see that the Colorado is really quite alive, not a dry riverbed.

On our way out, we passed a couple guys going toward the watchtower. One of them had a football that he kept tossing up in the air to himself. I guess he wasn’t expecting the Grand Canyon to be exciting enough for him, so he was going to have to play with the football to stay entertained.

On to Utah, but first, let’s stand in four states at the same time

So we left the Grand Canyon, vowing to one day return to do some hiking and camping there. As we headed northeast, we saw signs for Four Corners, a landmark I had overlooked in planning our trip to Chicago. It was a bit out of our way but we figured it was worth the detour. Four Corners is the spot where Utah, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico meet, so you can stand in such a way so that you’re in four states at the same time.

On our way, we drove through Navaho Nation — Native American land — and I began to think about how weird it was that we were going to a landmark that was celebrating the exact geographic borders of four states that Navaho Indians probably couldn’t care less about. Then it got stranger, because we pulled into the landmark and found out that it was actually run by the Navaho Nation’s recreation department. It was just weird paying the Navaho Nation to see a landmark that I can’t imagine they’re huge fans of.

Needless to say, the landmark is cool. It’s a circular stone platform with a silver seal and cross in the center showing where the state borders are. We took our pictures and hit the road again. A few hours later, we were in Moab, Utah and setting up our tent in the dark at a KOA site there. We were asleep shortly after climbing in.

So I got up early to start work, about 5:30 a.m. During our trip back to Chicago, I’m working online in the mornings and then making calls and writing in the afternoons while Bea drives. Somehow I had no cell reception on the 20th floor of the Monte Carlo, which is on the Las Vegas Strip, but I still managed to get some work done.

Meanwhile, Bea awoke and walked the Strip some more, returning with crepes from La Creperie in the Paris hotel. We both discovered this place about five years ago when we first came to Vegas together, and we were hooked. I’m not sure how they compare to crepes in Paris, although Bea said she likes them more, most likely because they tend to be sweeter.

Anyway, we split a breakfast crepe with eggs and veggies in it. Then she got one for herself with fresh berries and chantilly cream, and I got one with Nutella and sliced bananas.

To the Hoover Dam

We left the hotel around noon and went to Circuit City to look for a power inverter. The inverter plugs into our car’s cigarette lighter and provides an AC outlet. Circuit City didn’t have it, but Office Max did. The thing is a lifesaver, and has allowed me to write on the laptop while on the road, plus we can both charge our cellphones and the digital camera’s battery while we’re driving.

Then we headed east toward Hoover Dam and were there in the next hour and a half. It was hot again but we were able to park in the garage. We went into the visitor’s center, watched an introductory movie, and then went on a tour in the dam, where you get to see the underground turbines churning out hydroelectric power. It was obviously amazing to hear about how they built it, and especially how quickly they did it: five years. They were constantly pouring concrete during construction, at a rate of about three feet every 78 seconds, I think was the statistic. Both of us immediately thought of the Big Dig, a huge construction project in Boston that has taken decades, cost billions, and still wasn’t built right. Thinking about it now, it seems that most construction projects today tend to cost more, take longer, and not be built as well.

Either way, the dam is amazing. When you go outside and check out the view from the top, it looks like a giant slide. On the other side is Lake Mead, which the guides told us would be able to flood the state of Pennsylvania with a foot of water. You can tell the level of the lake is going down quickly by the different colors on the rock surrounding it. Bea read or heard something about how Vegas and much of Southern California could be out of water in 10 years if the current conditions — the drought and booming construction in that area — continue.

On to the Grand Canyon

By the time we got done with the tour, it was getting into the late afternoon and so we needed to get going. We wanted to try to make it to the Grand Canyon in time for sunset.

Well, we missed by about 20 minutes, but it was OK. We got to see it during dusk, or crepusculum as Bea and I like to call it (Happy Crepusculum, we say to one another). It’s obviously difficult to put into words what it’s like to see the Grand Canyon because it’s so amazing. I’ve heard from a lot of people that they get tired of the vistas, that it’s just a hole in the ground. Bea and I never tired of the views. That evening, we stopped at Mather Point and took it all in — the striations of different colored rocks, the way it all just seems to glow, the jutting spires and peaks that seem to improbably be still sitting there and not collapsing.

The last time we were in Vegas, we took a bus tour of the Hoover Dam and Grand Canyon, and frankly, it was awful. We didn’t even stop at the Hoover Dam, just took pictures from afar. And we had about 20 minutes to take in the views at the Grand Canyon. We spent more time at a disgusting buffet restaurant on the way to the Grand Canyon than we did at the Grand Canyon itself. This time around was much, much better.

Quick story: One thing we remember from that first tour was how a guide told us about one woman’s foolish encounter with a squirrel. Apparently the woman had never seen a squirrel, and so she tried to pick it up so someone could take a picture of her posing with it. The squirrel, of course, bit her. And that’s where her Grand Canyon experience ended.

Anyway, after crepusculum ended, we drove to a general store so Bea could check out the gift shop. There wasn’t much there worth buying. So then we drove back to Mather Point to see what we could see now that it was dark out. There were so many stars in the sky — Bea said she had never seen so many at one time. It was amazing. But the Grand Canyon was dark and so we headed to our campsite in the park and went to bed. We were planning on getting up early the next morning so we could see the sun rise over the canyon.

We said our goodbyes to Jeff and Janine and thanked them for letting us stay with them for five weeks. Honestly, without them this trip would not have been possible. Then we jumped on the freeway and headed northeast to our first stop,Las Vegas.

Calico ghost town

Our first stop along the way was in Calico, an old silver mining town that has since been largely abandoned and turned into a tourist attraction. We obliged and went in. It was hot hot hot that day, the temp in our car hit 112 at one point. Outside the sun beat down and hurt the backs of our necks.

Apparently Calico was a silver mining town that at its peak in the 1880s had about 1,800 residents, and in total they mined $86 million worth of silver out of there. Then when the price of silver dropped, the town crumbled. We walked through and saw a reconstructed town hall and a reconstructed fire house.

The original barber shop was there, which for some reason doubled as the dentist’s office. Outside there was a sign advertising “Goose Grease moustache wax.” Get me some of that, please.

The original pharmacy was still there, with a list of what they used to sell there. It included “cures” for ailments like German dyspepsia. Sounds nasty.

Then we walked through the mine and were able to have an idea of what it must have been like to work in there, which must have been horrible. We were both thinking about the recent mine collapse in Utah as we were going through. In the tour of the mine, they have mannequins in different locations set up to look like they’re mining. Some of them were smiling, and it was creepy.

Then we went into a cafeteria down the street and we bought a sarsparilla to split. Cost was $2, but with tax it came to $2.16. I almost asked if they had food tax in the Old West but kept my smart-alecky comments to myself. Turns out the sarsparilla, which was called Sioux City Sarsparilla, was made in New York state. Now that’s a genuine “ghost” town. Seriously though, we did actually enjoy it there.

World’s tallest thermometer

Our next stop was in Baker, Calif., the home of the world’s tallest thermometer. We pulled in and the mercury read 108. Well, actually it wasn’t mercury. It was a digital thermometer. I was kind of disappointed, thinking that the world’s largest thermometer would be a mercury thermometer. Bea rightly pointed out to me that if it was mercury, there would be too much of it in there and it would probably be dangerous.

But whatever, I was still disappointed. Besides, if there was a little mercurial danger involved, all the better, right? We had already walked through a silver mine, so what’s a little mercury?

Las Vegas

So for the first night we decided to stay in a hotel. We checked into the Monte Carlo, which took forever, and then went to our room. There appeared to be a urine stain on our blanket (yummy) so I called housekeeping to bring another up. When we returned to the room later that night, we found a new blanket tied up in a plastic bag on the floor. It was Make-Your-Own-Bed Day at the Monte Carlo, apparently.

We left and went to the Smith & Wollensky restaurant across the street. We both have fond memories of the S&W in Boston; Cathleen took us there for a gluttonous meal one time that included like six courses and took us three hours to stuff our faces. It was fantastic. This time around, we each got a Wedge salad and split theirtruffled macaroni and cheese. It was plenty and it was delicious.

Then we hit the Strip and headed for the Wynn, which Bea hadn’t seen yet. Along the way, we walked through various hotels and stores and casinos like you always do in Vegas. And we got solicited by the whore pamphleteers. If you haven’t heard that term, don’t worry, I invented it. The whore pamphleteers are the group of people, both men and women, who stand on the side of the sidewalk and try to hand you pamphlets and brochures of prostitutes as you walk by. It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or woman, black or white, 83 years old or just out of the stroller. You can guarantee that a whore pamphleteer will be slapping a whore pamphlet against his hand and sticking it in your face. Take it, they’re goading you. You know you want to. No. No I don’t, Mr. Whore Pamphleteer.

So we got to the Wynn and Bea loved the look of it and took plenty of pictures, including this one of us in front of the waterfalls outside the hotel. Then we walked back to the Bellagio and caught the end of one of their fountain shows. Bea stayed for another one but I was too tired and had to get up early to start work the next day, so I went back to the room and made our bed at the Monte Carlo so we wouldn’t have to toss and turn on top of dried urine all night. Viva Las Vegas!

There’s a lot more to say, but now that we’re back on the road and heading to Chicago, we’ll just skip it. Maybe we’ll reflect on it later if we’re feeling nostalgic about Southern California, but for the time being we’ve had our fill. Weather’s great, staying at Jeff and Janine’s was great, everyone drives SUVs, Hummers and jacked-up pickup trucks, and the drivers are about 10 times worse than Massachusetts drivers. Bea agrees.

There’s a lot of construction and smog and you breathe it all in and cough and wheeze. Or at least I do because I have bad allergies. I’m also allergic to the animals. Now I’m complaining so I’ll stop and we’ll move on to the return trip.

So we woke up on Saturday ready to hit the Pacific Coast Highway. Given that the direct route we ended up taking — from Half Moon Bay to San Luis Obispo — was about four hours, we decided we could take our time and enjoy the sites as we headed south.

As a quick side note, it’s funny how quick you can be accustomed to such long, all-day drives, so much so that you get to a point when a four-hour drive is like a dream.

Driving the highway and snacking on berries

The first place we stopped was off the highway and on a side road. We saw a sign for fresh strawberries. We came upon an old rundown farmhouse with an old man and his old dog. He sold us a crate of strawberries for eight bucks and asked what our last name was and then asked where in Italy my grandfather was from. He was Sicilian.

Unfortunately, his strawberries weren’t that good, which we discovered down the road when we actually started eating them. They were mostly absent of any flavor, but had a dry aftertaste that made you go looking for a glass of water. We should have tried a couple before we bought a crate of them. Oh well.

Our next stop was prompted by a sign that said, “Olallie Berries pick your own.” Well first, we didn’t know what olallie berries were, which intrigued us. And second, one of the things Bea loves to do is go to these pick-your-own stands, whether it be for blueberries, strawberries, peaches, whatever. So we were sold.

So olalllie berries are blackberries. Technically, it’s a cross between a youngberry and a loganberry, which are themselves crosses between a blackberry and some other berry. But basically it’s a blackberry. The guy running the pick-your-own stand told us that “olallie” means berry in Chinook Indian. So when you strip it all down, an olallieberry is a berryberry. So Bea and I went to pick some berryberries.

They were good. We didn’t spend too long there — maybe 15 minutes — but we picked quite a few berries and paid a couple bucks for them. Then our hands were covered in black and as we drove down the Pacific Coast Highway, our mouths quenched by delicious berryberries.

More of the same

So the guy working the berryberry farm said they had a storefront about six miles south, so when we got there, we stopped in. They had a pitcher of strawberry lemonade in the cooler and you could help yourself for $1 a cup. I got some of that, Bea got some strawberry cider (tasted just like regular apple cider, we thought), and we bought some jam. And then onward and upward.

Santa Cruz

Our next stop was in Santa Cruz, the town famous for surfing and skateboarding and punk rock and liberal politics. We both enjoyed driving through it but didn’t have too much time. We stopped at a sandwich place because we were starting to get hungry, but we didn’t like the look of the menu so we busted out. That’s one thing about a road trip; you often don’t get to spend as much time in every place that you’d like.

The Whole Enchilada

So we continued down the Pacific Coast Highway and ended up stopping for lunch at The Whole Enchilada in Moss Landing. We sat outside, where it was chilly, but they had portable heaters on the patio that warmed us up nicely. It was interesting to watch flies hover close enough to the heaters to get warm but far enough way to not get burned. As long as they left us alone, which they did, we were fine.

So we split some deep-fried artichokes as an appetizer. They came with a ranch-like dipping sauce and were delicious. Then I got fish tacos and Bea got salmon.

Monterey and Pebble Beach

Next was Monterey. We drove into the northside of the peninsula and into the center of town. It was busy with a lot of traffic, so we went north and around the peninsula until we got to 17 Mile Road, which takes you into the Pebble Beach area. The only thing is you have to pay a fee just to drive on that road. What a rip. So at first we decided to forget about it, but then as we went south we had better thoughts and went back. We’re glad we did.

So we drove to the Pebble Beach Golf Links and parked. When you walk toward the course, you enter a V-like area with gift shops and the clubhouse on either side and the golf course and putting green before you. Off to the left was the first tee by the clubhouse, and so Bea and I stood there fealing jealous while watching a few groups tee off.

We went into the gift shop and looked around, and then we went into the clubhouse. Bea bought a golf glove with a ball marker attached that was a magnet rather than the traditional button. It’s a lot easier to remove and put back on. The guys in the clubhouse were very friendly; I was expecting some level of snobbery but there wasn’t any to be found. They were talking about the eyesight defects of various ESPN personalities; in particular Stuart Scott and Dan Patrick (they said he went to radio exclusively because of some eyesight defect, but I couldn’t find anything to confirm that).

Then we walked through a path and down some stairs to the 18th green. They have a fence set up to provide some distance between the players and the ogling spectators like us, but we were still right on top of the action. The 18th hole looks like a bear — on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. I can only imagine how the wind might affect your shot if it picks up.

Big Sur

Soon after we had left Pebble Beach, we entered the Big Sur region of the mid-coast, where every turn brings with it a new amazing view of the ocean. This is where the Pacific Coast Highway winds and climbs and drops, and you dip in and out of fog and clouds along the way.

We took our time here, stopping several times to snap photos, get some fresh air and then continuing on our way.

Hearst Castle

We got to Hearst Castle late and the tours were done for. We were upset about that. Took a look out the back of the visitor’s center and saw it from a distance. It looks cool. William Randolph Hearst was a crazy recluse with a sled obsession. We’ll go back eventually.

Morro Dunes, no way; county park, ok

We were supposed to camp at this place called Morro Dunes. I’m not going to even link to it because it was that bad. Our “campsite” would have been on a patch of pavement next to a Dumpster. Yeah, I don’t think so. So we drove south.

Eventually we ended up at a county park in San Luis Obispo and were able to secure some overflow camping, which was basically people setting up their RVs and tents in a random field. Not too great, but better than having the Dumpster rats clawing at our tent all night.

As I said, we really hated the Petaluma KOA. When we woke up there Friday (July 13) morning, we realized our site was wet because KOA waters them with sprinklers. Who in the hell waters their campsites, especially the tent ones? So even though we had reservations to stay there Friday night also, we packed up with the intention of only going back there as a last resort.

So we left there and headed toward Napa and Sonoma valleys — wine country. This was also a defining moment because we went on Route 166 East. It was the first time since leaving Massachusetts that we had actually gone on a road going east.

As we were driving, we both decided that there was no way we were going back to that Petaluma KOA. So Bea called the place and told them our thoughts about their miserable campground, and we got a refund for that night so we could go elsewhere.

The original Taylor’s

To make things a little lighter, I told Bea that I had a surprise for her as we were traveling toward wine country. We had gotten a bit of a late start and it was nearing lunchtime. I was traveling up Route 29 in Napa Valley toward Calistoga and then we came upon it — the original Taylor’s Refresher in St. Helena. I wasn’t sure Bea would like the surprise because after all, we were inNapa. But she loved it, and we ordered lunch and, of course, milkshakes, and then started our wine country tour.

Sterling Vineyards

Our first stop was at Sterling Vineyards, which was nothing special except it had an aerial tram that took us up to a separate area where there was a self-guided tour and tastings. We tried about five different wines and enjoyed a lot of great views. The self-guided tour was also pretty cool, and took us by areas where they were making and barreling wine.

There was also a DVD that showed how the oak barrels are made, with the wood from French forests and how they heat the wood to bend it and then lock it in shape with the iron rings.

We bought a Pinot Gris there and Bea got a cute kitchen towel with pictures of chickens on it. Bea is really into cute kitchen towels.

Robert Mondavi

We headed back south down Route 29 and stopped at the Robert Mondavi Winery. They had a pretty property with gift shops and tasting areas surrounding a small grass field where they have jazz concerts every Saturday night. We toyed with the idea of staying another day so we could see Herbie Hancock (that’s Herbie Hancock), but decided it probably wasn’t wise. The Napa and Sonoma region was another place we could have stayed a week and still not seen everything we wanted to.

As we were driving in wine country, we saw a different winery with Peter Mondavi’s name on it. Bea postured that Robert and Peter were probably relatives who got into some sort of wine feud. Sure enough, she was right. Apparently Robert once worked with his brother Peter, but eventually started his own business when the two bickered some.

The wines we tasted at the Robert Mondavi Vineyards were probably our second favorite, ahead of Sterling and behind the Buena Vista. We liked their Boomerang wine a lot.

Buena Vista Winery

We didn’t get a chance to visit too many wineries, which was fine by us. Three was good. Neither of us are wine connoisseurs and tasting wine at three different places is plenty. More than that and driving would be questionable, I think.

So we headed to the Buena Vista Winery, the oldest continuously operating winery in the United States, or so they said. It doesn’t matter. It was both our favorites by far.

First off, Buena Vista is in Sonoma, which is the original wine country. Napa came later. As a result, Sonoma has an older, more authentic, less commercialized feel to it. The Buena Vista Winery is down a small side road tucked into the end of a residential neighborhood. It was started by Agoston Haraszthy, who is considered one of the founders of modern viticulture in the United States.

There was just a lot of character here, from the old stone walls in the tasting room to the furniture on the second floor where they had signs describing the history of American viticulture. It also helped that the woman giving us our tastings of wine was really friendly. And we gotbreadsticks in between each tasting.

The wine there was also our favorite. Maybe it had something to do with the place itself, maybe it had something to do with the fact that this was our third visit and our taste buds were possibly numbing up, but I don’t think so. I think it was just good.

As we were leaving there, Bea saw a sign outside advertising a free performance of Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” by the Napa Valley College. It was about 5 p.m. at the time and the show was starting at 6 p.m. Not a lot of the wineries are open past 5 p.m., so we decided to be done with wine and move on to…theatre! (When you read this, imagine a British accent when reading “theatre.” It makes you feel more cultured.)

Okay, enough culture, because listen to this. Instead of grabbing something quick at a nearby deli, we decided we would try to drive to the Taylor’s in St. Helena and back — all in less than an hour with rush-hour traffic. Our love of Taylor’s had obviously transitioned to an obsession. We got about halfway there, saw traffic going the other way (it was bad), and went back with puppy-dog sad faces.

But that’s okay. On our way back, we stopped at The Fig Pantry and picked up some food to eat while watching the play. That place was good; I’m glad we ended up there.

As You Like It

So the cast set up minimal props on the land of Buena Vista Winery and began their performance. I was expecting something like Waiting for Guffman, but the acting was actually decent. The audience was sitting at picnic tables and lawn chairs in front of the play, and I’m pretty sure that Bea and I were the only non-family or non-friends of someone acting in the play. There were probably about 30 audience members there total. It was too bad there wasn’t a better turnout.

At one point the flies were really getting bothersome, so we put bug spray on and adorned sheepish faces while everyone else looked accusingly at us because of the loud spray nozzle and offensive bug-spray odor. Hey, don’t be jealous (DBJ).

Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the whole thing. It didn’t get started until 6:30 p.m., and with the prospect of having to drive down the coast to find a new campsite looming over us, we busted out at 7 p.m. It was a very strategic maneuver. We packed up our food as quietly as possible, straddled one leg over the picnic bench, and bolted during a scene change. This is the correct protocol for leaving events like this early: be quiet, but when you have to be disruptive, be quick about it. And never look back. Oh, never look back. The faces of disgust you’ll see will haunt you the whole ride home.

The fog

As we drove back through San Francisco, we saw the fog coming off the mountains and into the city. It crept like a stalker, and reminded me of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” when T.S. Eliot compares the fog to an animal:

…The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes…

It was the first time Bea and I had seen the famous San Francisco fog roll in. The temperature dropped about 10 degrees in 10 minutes and we drove in and out of the fog as we drove up and down mountains.

Last word on Taylor’s

See, we’ve got a problem. An addiction, really. Even though we had yet to find a campsite, we decided to drive into the city and get one last milkshake each. Oh Taylor’s, how we’ll miss you.

Down the coast to Half Moon Bay

So it was about 8 p.m. by now and we still had no place to stay and were worried that all the campsites would be booked.

We cut through the mountains and ended up at the Half Moon Bay State Beach. After some initial confusion, we found the campground host and discovered that there were two sites left, so we grabbed one of them. The campground hosts were super nice — an elderly couple in their RV that travel around the country when they feel like it and park their vehicle at various campgrounds to be hosts and make a little money. Sweet deal.

By this time it was 9 p.m. and spitting rain, so we set up our tent in a jiffy (we were getting really good at this by now) and jumped into bed. This was one of my favorite places to stay, mainly because we were on a grassy campsite right next to the beach, and so you could hear the ocean waves coming in all night long.

Before we left the site, we walked on a path to Lake Tahoe. After pondering how cold the water is, I eventually went in and cooled off. The lake is so clear — supposedly there are areas where you can see 67 feet down the lake — and it’s the second deepest lake in the U.S. behind Crater Lake in Oregon. Nice.

Finding a hospital

We left and drove up the west shore of Lake Tahoe, and eventually came to Tahoe City. We found a place called Syd’s Bagelry in the town that had free WiFi, so we ordered some breakfast and settled in to search the Internet for a doctor for Bea. Eventually we decided to just go to the hospital, and ended up at the Tahoe Forest Hospital in Truckee.

As Bea suspected, she had a sinus infection. I can’t believe that she’s been able to keep traveling and sleep in tents this whole way with how she’s been feeling. I probably would have ended this trip long ago if I was the one who was sick. So the doctor prescribed her some medicine and we were off again, headed for San Francisco and Petaluma. Along the way, we stopped in Sacramento to pick up Bea’s prescription. We saw the State House and were hoping to catch a glimpse of Ahhnold but no luck there.

If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair (and go to Taylor’s), on the jump…

San Francisco

So we got to San Francisco at about 4:30pm. We wanted to take a cruise to Alcatraz but the tours are all sold out until — get this — Monday afternoon. The MLB All-Star game was here this week so we figured that’s what was causing the craziness.

We went to Boudin Bakery at the Fisherman’s Wharf and Bea bought a couple of kitchen towels. Then we walked to one of our favorite places in San Francisco: Taylor’s Refresher.

We discovered this place when we were here last year. It’s in the Ferry Building on the water. Now we’re no gourmet foodies, but Taylor’s is a great, old-fashioned hamburger place. Reminds me a little of In-N-Out but with a wider variety on their menu.

So I got the cheeseburger and Bea got fish and chips, which she turned into a fish sandwich. But the best part about Taylor’s, by far, are its milkshakes. Creamy, thick but not so thick you can’t use a straw, and just yummy. Man, just writing about it makes me want another one right now, and it’s after 1 a.m. here. Anyway, I got the chocolate and Bea got the special coconut shake. I’m not a big fan of coconut, but that shake was divine.

On to Petaluma

We walked back to the car and drove north, heading over the Golden Gate Bridge. We were able to walk this structure during our visit here last year, and it was cool. This time around we settled for photos in the car. Maybe on the way back south we’ll stop there.

We continued on north and into the Petaluma KOA. We both really hate it here. The campsites are small, so small that we had to set up our tent on the gravel driveway. No privacy, tons of RVs, a bright lamppost right outside our tent. But hey, who am I to complain — they have shuffleboard! We’re both longing for a state or national park right now. At least this place has Internet access. That’s about the only positive right now.

The Great Salt Lake

So our first stop was the “Great” Salt Lake. We say it like that because I don’t think we got the full experience. I think it was a mix of not seeing what we expected and not going to the lake in the right spot to go swimming. We got onto Route 80 and got off at what we thought was the Salt Lake State Park. Well, we arrived at about 9:30 a.m. and it wasn’t open yet. So we drove down the street and found an opening to a walk toward the lake.

First of all, the first 100 yards of the lake is all marsh. It’s not something you can or want to dip your feet into. Then as we walked closer and closer to the lake, these huge flies started buzzing around our heads and trying to bite us. It was insane and neither of us wanted to hang around.

Here are a couple pictures of me in front of it. The second one is a close-up of my face so you can see how much I disliked the lake and the flies buzzing around it. Again, I think much of our problem was a lack of time to explore this huge body of water and not knowing where the best place was to go swimming (we now think Antelope Island would have been good).

The Bonneville Salt Flats

As we continued on Route 80 in Utah, there were some cool sights. At one point we were driving through the Great Salt Lake, with water on our right, our left, and on either side of the traffic going the other way. As we got farther west, we saw a few industrial plants with mountains of salt that it looked like they were processing. And we saw long stretches on the side of the road that looked like snow but was salt.

Then we stopped at the Bonneville Salt Flats, which is where they have a measured mile to record all of those land speed records. It was pretty cool — you could walk out onto the flats. With the salt being so white and the sun being so bright and reflecting, it felt like we were on another planet. Kind of creepy, actually.

Here’s Bea pretending that she’s running.

Smoke but no fire, up-and-coming Reno? and ah…Lake Tahoe, on the jump…

Smoke but no fire

We had heard from my parents that there were wildfires in three locations that we were planning to pass on Route 80 in Nevada — Elko, something I can’t remember, and Imlay. A few days before we went through there, they actually had to shut down this major interstate highway for hours at a time to contain the blaze. Luckily we never had any delays. We did see plenty of smoke, though, smoke so thick it looked like rain clouds and gray fog covering the mountains. But neither of us ever saw any flames.

Up-and-coming Reno?

After crossing northern Nevada, we entered Reno. We didn’t have to go through the city to get to Lake Tahoe but figured we should check it out. For the most part, Reno reminds me of Atlantic City or downtown Vegas. Older-looking casinos, really cheap buffets, kind of run down, etc.

But then as we traveled south to connect back up to the freeway, we drove through an area that looked like it was more up-and-coming, with some nice commercial and residential developments either done or on the way. There’s still a long way to go — we stopped at a Starbucks that was across the street from a nudie bar, for example — but it seemed like it was getting better.

That reminds me. While we were driving through Reno, we saw some people with their children. We started wondering how people get to where they are. It’s a somewhat snobbish point-of-view, because the question presumes that where we have been (Boston, Chicago) is naturally a place that people would end up. But how does someone end up in Reno, trying to raise a family in the midst of casinos and dirty bars and strippers? Wouldn’t you move out of there? How does someone end up in Rapid City, S.D., or Cody, Wyo.? What’s the history there, how did their parents and grandparents come to settle in that town?

Ah….Lake Tahoe

So then we arrived in South Lake Tahoe, which was more developed than we expected. Our reservation was at the Tahoe Valley RV Resort, so we checked in and went to our site. Then we decided that we were tired of being in RV-land every night, so we took a drive along the lake.

After a detour away from the lake and toward Sacramento (my bad), we ended up back on the coast, and drove up to Eagle Point Campground, which was in a state park right on the lake. It was perfect, real camping, tons of stars in the sky overhead, and we just loved it.