April 19, 2011 The memorial...

With two dead car batteries and a filthy truck, some work is in order.  A quick wash and we are off in the truck to the memorial service, perhaps fitting as the Burmasters are honored members of our NorCal WBCCI Airstream group; when we are with Sue and Ray, we are inevitably in our truck, and they in their truck.

Ray and Sue's families organized a very beautiful and well attended memorial.  She will be missed by everyone she has touched.

April 18, 2011 Home!--at last.

For whatever reason, no matter how little or how much we have to do in the morning, it is 9 AM before we are on the road.

The drive north on Hwy 99 from Tulare is very familiar, and maybe that is why it seems to take so long to go only 240 miles.

Traffic is a bit heavy at the start but thins and moves quite well, until suddenly all lanes ahead are blocked.  We crawl past a wreck involving at least five vehicles.  The momentum of the wreck has thrown some vehicles through the fence into an orchard, but all are upright, and the fire department is there.   A pickup truck is involved, and its cargo top lies crushed on the shoulder.  There is debris everywhere, some sprawled across the bordering fence.   We begin to recognized a pattern to the debris -  the remains of a travel trailer the pickup must have been towing.  We crawl on by with our travel trailer, sympathetic, and determined to get ourselves home safely.

At 2:15 PM we are home.  Our son Kevin is there, cleaning out some items he temporarily stored in our garage.  We invite him to stay for dinner but he excuses himself to do taxes (they are due today).  We will file an extension for our taxes as it is impossible to sort through all the mail that has arrived since our departure December 27th.   We find both our cars have dead batteries.  The yard looks okay but weeds have grown like mad during the wet winter and spring.  We are home.

April 16 - 17, 2011 Undulations, undulations, undulations, un….

Probably time we cleaned the windshield. 

We are on the road by 8:30 continuing west on I-10. There are various ways of getting home and we debate them endlessly -- with each other, the GPS, the Droid smartphone, the computer’s Google Maps, and our paper maps. No matter our choice, doing it with only one more night would require at least one day of towing over 400 miles so instead we resign ourselves to two more nights on the road. This will get us home the day before the memorial.

This makes some things easier – we overrule the machines favoring freeways and branch from I-10 to AZ Hwy 72 about 26 miles east of Quartzite, and start heading north-east on a two-lane road with just us and a few trucks. For a while we are paralleling the tracks of the San Diego Arizona Eastern Railway; in the Sierra Club we used to hike the canyons behind Anza Borrego where you could see at least one old wooden trestle, and the remains of a freight car that fell into the canyon (spilling cans of beer). Fires and landslides have plagued the railway and I thought it was no longer operating.

The road undulates, like a serpent, into the distance.

We cross the Colorado River at Parker and begin to taste the end of our journey. Hwy 62 connects us to Hwy 95, and we again head north passing Ocotillo still in bloom with occasional views of historic Route 66. This is classic desert driving: the road undulates with the topography, saving the cost of culverts. Storms happen rarely, and when they do they simply wash briefly over the low parts of the road.

At Needles, we die, and not because of the heat, which is around 88-92 degrees. Diesel is $4.99. We have paid from $3.13 when we started east in January to around $3.50 in February and $3.79 in southern Florida. By the end of March the price was up to $3.98 and in Van Horn Texas we paid $4.05. In Tonopah AZ yesterday we paid $4.16. $4.99 in Needles? We decide to hold off hopefully until Bakersfield, hoping for a better price. (Marcia figures our trip home from the caravan end point in the Florida Keys will cost us over $1000 just for fuel.)

Having kicked the diesel question down the road, we need to feed our souls. Driving into Needles on Business 40/Route 66 we find an old place called Burger Hut and split good hamburgers, fries, a soda, and a milkshake. It is Saturday, but the Burger Hut and the fast food joints along the freeway seem to be the only life in the town. Not likely much more on weekdays.

 

We hop on I-40 west and having done well recently with Passport America we head for Newberry Springs and the Twin Lakes RV Park. This takes faith; it is at least 7 miles off the freeway, the last ¾ mile on a dirt road. We arrive and an Asian woman apparently living alone meets me as I exit the truck. She immediately accepts Passport America so we pay $16 for a space with electric and water (rather than the posted $32) and because there are so few people she suggests we park across two sites along the small lake so we don’t have to unhitch. (The larger twin-lake is dry.)

After hooking to the utilities we go outside to split a beer and pretzels when coincidentally another Airstream enters and parks near us, Dennis and Bonita from Santa Rosa.  They are returning from a trip to Puerto Vallarta and have been on the road since November, even longer than us. They report no problems in Mexico, and a great trip. We conclude they would be excellent additions to NorCal, our Airstream unit of WBCCI. We will work on them.

We leave Newberry Springs by 9am Saturday now on I-15, fueling in Barstow for $4.69 and our first cup of Starbucks since Florida. By Tehachapi on Hwy 58 we are ready for lunch and stop at Kohnen’s Bakery. For a bit of time symmetry, we share a Cubano sandwich; the last (and first) time we ever had a Cuban sandwich was in St Augustine, Florida. I never expected to see one again, let alone in Tehachapi. It is good, but not as good as the one at the Columbia in St Augustine.

While in Tehachapi we tour a nice railway museum local railway geeks established in a replica of the old Tehachapi depot. Then back on the highway to Hwy 99, where we go north and settle for the night at the Sun and Fun RV Park in Tulare – adequate for the night, but not really a good place for sun and fun. Tomorrow we drive for home.

April 13 - 15, 2011 We start moving a little faster…

Leaving Junction we drive to Fort Stockton, hoping to purchase the yard-art metal peacock we had seen on the drive east when the store was closed (a Sunday). Fort Stockton doesn’t look much different today, a weekday, but the store is open and the peacock has been sold, to our disappointment. We cross the street to the only café in town and enjoy a lunch, but this is no substitute. We drive on.

Texas is in a bad drought, perhaps the worst in 40 years, and as we speed through windy west Texas we see burning hills near Fort Davis and a lot of smoke in the air.

We drive on to “Historic Van Horn” (the sign says), a town sadder than Fort Stockton. I don’t know what glued this place together, but today the main street consists of closed stores, closed motels, motels offering rooms for $25, and a few newer motels that look like they should never have been constructed. The low-priced motels bring images, perhaps unfairly, of bedbugs but on a gamble Marcia calls the better looking Ramada Inn and the Holiday Inn, but the former holds firm at $59 and the latter wants $79. We go instead to the Eagles Nest RV Park, which wants $30; I point out to the manager that there are motels in town advertising rooms for $25 and he gives me an indignant look and comments that his prices are in line.

The next morning we continue I-10 through west Texas, a long drive made the worse because of blowing dust and smoke. El Paso is its usual chaotic self but the dust and winds continue well into New Mexico, where we settle at the Lordsburg KOA for about $34. Having a desire for New Mexico style Mexican food we disconnect and drive to El Charro, an old but large place near the railroad tracks endorsed by the largest collection of still-runing cars in town. Service is very pleasant and most everybody seems to know each other. Dinner is okay and probably what I expected, but not what I wanted. After dinner we drive the dusty streets trying to figure what used to make this town tick – perhaps mining, just not sure.

On Friday the 15th the winds and dust are much improved and our drive through New Mexico and into Arizona is reasonably pleasant. We are making good time now and expect to be home on the 18th, in time for Sue Burmaster’s memorial on the 19th. We spend the evening in at the Saddle Mountain RV Park in Tonopah, Arizona, for only $14 using Passport America.

April 12, 2011 LBJ and Booker country…

We had planned on an overnight stop (or two) in Austin but instead decide to limit our touring to the LBJ Presidential Library and Museum, and the LBJ ranch tour in Johnson City.

Parking with the big boys.

The LBJ Library and Museum.  If you are my age you might remember in 1966 Charles Whitman killed 16 people from the UT tower, at the left. 

There is no parking or admission charge to the library and museum, a pleasant surprise, but also no RV or bus parking. We manage to back in between some school busses, hiding along a perimeter fence.

7/8 scale oval office.

LBJ is portrayed as a victim of the times, which he mostly is – the champion of an unpopular war at a time all sorts of things were going wrong. He successfully passed major “Great Society” (a term I never liked) legislation but had to deal with great unrest on campuses across the country, the assassinations of MLK and RFK (and of course JFK), riots in the black communities, etc. The museum includes a temporary exhibit on radical groups of the 1960s. It must have been difficult deciding and defending the groups included and excluded. Interestingly, the John Birch Society was included.

We drive on toward Junction, stopping at the National Parks visitor center in Johnson City, but we can find no one to answer questions. We pick up maps and continue to the LBJ Ranch on the Pedernales River, near Stonewall.

Cow's-eye view of the LBJ Ranch.

Air Force One Half on left, Airstream One on right.

The LBJ home.  The Texas White House is mainly in the addition to the left.

View toward the Pedernales River.

At the ranch visitor center we are provided a narrative CD to play as we drive a paved one-way road (trailer OK) through the working cattle ranch, enjoying the views and the calming surroundings. We can see why he liked the ranch. The tour ends at the LBJ home, which includes the rooms that became known as the Texas White House. Outside is a runway and a parked four-engine executive jet with presidential markings - LBJ dubbed it Air Force One Half.

The conducted house tour costs $2 and is well worth it. LBJ bought the house from a relative but it was apparently in depressing shape. With Lady Bird’s money and direction it was expanded and improved and, although it doesn’t look it, I swear the ranger said it is now 8000 square feet – perhaps that includes outbuildings.

The inside has a modest traditional look but no photos are permitted – don’t know why. The eating area has a large window permitting a view of the ranch; after LBJ’s passing Lady Bird would not eat at the formal table, preferring the small one at the window’s edge, where she could look out at the ranch and watch wildlife through a pair of binoculars. Lady Bird died in 2007.

Marcia snapped a photo of LBJ’s office and was admonished, but then the ranger realized he had forgotten to tell us no pictures. At possibly great personal risk, Marcia has let me post the photo.

Ed and Marcia ready dinner at the Booker Ranch.

We continue from the LBJ ranch on the Pedernales to the Booker ranch on the North Llano, and a great dinner and catch-up. Ed had two blown tires on the trip home from Florida; both in the same wheel position, causing some body damage and the slicing of a water feed tube. After a good night’s sleep in their guest hook-up spot, we continue our drive home.

April 11, 2011 Tabasco in the morning...

We talk to Ray offering our condolences for Sue's death and learn the memorial will be on the 19th, several days ahead of our scheduled return home.  We will have to speed up greatly to be home in time.  We decide to give it a try for a couple days, but the goal seems impossible to do safely.  At best we see ourselves arriving late on the 19th - too late for the memorial - unless we can fine a way to eliminate a day.

Okay, just put the gun down.

This morning we take the short drive to Avery Island and visit the Tabasco factory for a tour.  Tabasco has been made here since soon after the Civil War.  In hindsight, although pleasant on Avery Island,  this was probably our best candidate for elimination to get home on time.

We drive on and camp west of Houston, skipping our plan to get together with Carlos and Rosemary for dinner.  Every camp has its oddities: in this one, liter soda bottles are used to plug unused sewer ports.

April 10 - 11, 2011 Marcia duz crayfish...

We backtrack a little, heading south-east to Abbeville, LA, recommended by the Cajun caravan. This, like Eunice and Mamou, is another small town we would have buzzed right through if we hadn’t had caravan contacts.

Cajuns improvise - in this case, a homemade 5th wheeler.

The Abbeville RV campground is very nice and casual – we can find no one to check with for an opening, so we simply find a vacant spot and set up; that evening a woman comes to our door and we pay our $20.

We drive to the central square, where a street fair is underway. The music is Cajun and the oaks are huge, altogether a pleasant half-hour, even with oak worms dropping on us.  Abbeville has history: a statue in the square honors the mam who died giving assistance to the scores killed by yellow fever here.  But today children are playing, couples are dancing, and everyone is having a good time.

For dinner we go to Richard’s Seafood Patio, pronounced with a French accent. This is a  wood and cinder-block nearly windowless buiding on a gravel and weedy parking lot. The caravan visited Richard’s to experience crayfish, and we are here separately for the same reason.

Inside the restaurant is lit by fluorescents and a few Budweiser and Coke signs. We take a seat where we can see the action, under a Budweiser sign that flickers on and off each time I accidentally bump the loose and dangerous looking electrical receptacle.

Faced with choosing between 3 or 5 pounds of crayfish, Marcia wisely goes for 3; the locals seem to favor the 5-pound size, served in great flat aluminum boiling pot.  I order 18 drunken shrimp, boiled in Budweiser. I also order a trip to the salad bar, which is roughly five feet wide and consists of lettuce, your choice of dressings, oddly sliced tomatoes, croutons, and baco-o-bits. It tastes fabulous – I guess I needed some greens.

Before...

...and after.

Casey, our server, shows Marcia how to shuck crawfish and mixes a dip from the many hot sauces on the table. I try a crayfish but I’m a little intimidated by the visible “vein” (do crayfish have colons?) and the strange dark stuff within the body cavity. Casey says she eats that stuff, no worry.  Marcia pronounces the crayfish good but they aren't worth the effort to me.

We know the crayfish are grown in the many rice fields in the area. I ask Casey if the Deep Horizon oil spill caused any problems with the shrimp but she isn’t certain. She leaves and returns, telling me that they had no problem with supply, but the price jumped. I enjoy my shrimp, dipped in Marcia’s hot-sauce.

April 8 - 9, 2011 We “join” the Cajun Caravan...

John and Shirley from NorCal are on the Cajun Caravan, and we are now in their territory, camped at the Lakeview RV Park in Eunice, Louisiana. Shirley and Marcia coordinate a get-together so late in the evening a gray Dodge pulls into our campsite and John and Shirley emerge, along with Roy and Linda, also from NorCal. It is hot so we sit outside, our guests on their tailgate, sipping wine and swatting mosquitoes, talking about their and our caravan experiences.

Inside the Savoy Music Center, Saturday morning - Eunice, LA.

On their suggestion and with the very generous cooperation of their caravan leaders, Richard and Marilyn Solera, we join them the next day at the Savoy Music Center in Eunice, a nondescript music store where at least eight musicians are playing and singing Cajun music. Richard motions us to the back of the store, where Marc Savoy is talking to the group about Cajun music and the Cajun accordion. He plays them, makes them, and sells them; the cheapest for about $2000. There are probably 60 accordion makers in Louisiana. Marc and his four adult children all play in Cajun bands, including his daughter living in Paris. We leave with two CDs, one a joint album put out by Marc’s wife and Linda Ronstadt.

After visiting the Savoy Music Center we join the Cajun Caravan for a Cajun meal at Nick’s in Eunice, opening especially for the group. The meal of pulled pork, dirty rice, and deep fried sweet potato is excellent. Everyone seems very pleased with the caravan, which is of two weeks duration, complaining only that there is “too much food”.

After lunch we dash to the neighboring community of Mamou, on the recommendation of the crowd, hoping to find a hole-in-the-wall bar that is open only twice weekly featuring Cajun music. Unfortunately they have just locked up on our arrival but we hear we missed quite an experience.

Again taking advantage of our caravan connections, we buy tickets to the evening’s performance at the Eunice Liberty Center, but don’t get what we expected; this turns out to be a “Classic Country Music Show” although the performers are Cajuns. I can’t judge country but we had a good time.

John digs in to his Cajun pancake breakfast.

Roy can't pass up a BBQ place, even at 9 am.

The next morning we join John and Shirley, along with Roy and Linda, for breakfast at Ronnie’s, the only place (besides McDonalds) open for breakfast on a Sunday. Afterwards we return with them to their caravan camp in the fairgrounds, finding two or three couples we know from other caravans. But the Cajun is moving out today, and so must we.

April 8, 2011 Biloxi, Jeff Davis, and Katrina...

After Mobile we return to I-10 then cut south to the waterfront to take a look at Biloxi, Mississippi.

Our first stop is a gigantic casino on the water where we have lunch. There is no obvious RV parking so we park across the street in an area of city blocks and slab foundations but no buildings, except for our casino and another one of recent construction. We go for the 2-for-1 special buffet but find nothing very good and leave full but unsatisfied.

Marcia's passenger-side visitor in Biloxi.

Typical block in coastal Biloxi five years after Katrina.

On leaving we realize these vacant blocks must be the aftermath of Katrina. We continue along the waterfront and for uncounted miles see nothing but derelict piers and half-completed (or half-surviving?) casino construction on the coast, and next-to-nothing landward but old foundations and porch steps. New Orleans got the network coverage but this is where the hurricane really hit.

Beauvoir, Jefferson Davis' last home, in the late 1800s.

Eventually we come to Beauvoir, the last home of Jefferson Davis. Davis lost most of his wealth in the Civil War and could hardly afford Beauvoir but was making payments when the owner died; she did not believe Davis would accept charity but knowing herself to be in poor health she wrote her will so Davis received full title at her death. This was his home for the last twelve years of his life.

The white dates from when this served as a Confederate veterans home. 

Cedar, carefully painted to look like oak.

The home is interesting for what it isn’t: a fancy mansion. Only one story, it is built on piers 23 feet off the ground. The interior woodwork is mostly pine and cedar; the latter painted to look like oak. Trompe-l'œil techniques are used to give the interior walls an appearance of elegance and fine craftsmanship.

Hours after Katrina in 2005 and a 24 foot storm surge.

Katrina damaged silver from the Davis home.

The home, built partly with slave labor, has been here since 1852. It survived 140+ hurricanes but Katrina about did it in. The storm surge reached 24 feet so the steps and porches washed away and the interior flooded a foot deep, the furniture pushed to the back walls. Most of the damage has been repaired and work is underway on the neighboring “presidential library”.

Beauvoir remained in the Davis family until 1903, when it and the surrounding property were converted for use as a home for Confederate soldiers and their families.