Mission Accomplished

One week shy of three months, my 10,292-mile journey to Florida and back ended at 3:40 p.m. yesterday (June 26, 2013), a couple of days later than anticipated when leaving Butte, Montana last Sunday. Eighty miles short of my intended destination of Spokane, I was blindsided by a final touristic urge at historic Wallace, Idaho where I stopped to take a look and was trapped for two days by non-stop thunderstorms.

 

The TV weather people called the continuous rainy ride in those last days a "rare atmospheric river" of moisture coming from across the Pacific. My friend Mike would call it, "Bernie must be on vacation again." Either way, it was doing its best to add a shot of misery to my otherwise enjoyable odyssey across America. But that mild misery was offset by the excitement I felt in those final miles to be reunited with Sherry and, yes, even the critters .... Maggie, Nigel and Hope ... who recognized me after all this time and in spite of my accumulation of white whiskers, evidence that a rolling stone does in fact gather moss.

 

Reflecting on these past three months, I consider it rewarding, having met and overcome the challenges of the road. Though not fun at the time, looking back, as Cousin Jim says, I will call environmental confrontations such as the nostril-shutting winds of New Mexico and Texas, the sweltering, bug-splattered humidity of Florida and the rain-hammered plains of North Dakota, "adventures". Having weathered those stormy encounters gives me a sense of accomplishment and I can endorse it as a remedy for the eroding effects of boredom in anyone's life. 

 

In addition to the enjoyment of meeting cousins, new and old, and reuniting with friends from my past, I have a new perspective of our vast country, having reduced stereotypical views once held. Not until you explore it for yourself do you realize all is not what we are led to believe by the media-perpetuated views of others.

 

For example, having imagined it a heavily populated hotbed of industry, I was surprised by the crowd-free farmlands of Michigan and the isolation of its Northern Peninsula, nearly a wilderness. The same is true of northern Wisconsin and Minnesota. I still wonder why these areas were passed by in the populated push to the west over the last two centuries? Perhaps the harsh weather said to occur in those regions? 

 

Some fail to understand when I say "the ride itself" when answering the question what I enjoyed most about the trip. Ironically, it can also be the worst part of the trip, a fine line that can be crossed in the same day. Nothing's better than riding a country road lit with morning color, nostrils filled with dew-fresh scents wafting across desert sage, fresh-plowed fields or evergreen forests, and the invigorated sense one feels leaning into the curves astraddle a thunderous power under your wrist-twisting control.  It's a world unknown to cage-restrained motorists.

Conversely, when those calm breezes become body-slamming gusts, the colorful morning light morphs into storm-threatening concern .... then unleashes a tortuous, water-boarding deluge, or, at the very least, nature's pleasing fragrances turn to manure-coated pastures or putrid roadkill ........ well, it's then we make pleading eye-contact with passing motorists who look at us with curious sympathy from the comfortable confines of their sterilized world. 

The details of this epic ride are yet to be written, which I hope to do from the reclined comfort of the easy chair in the coming weeks.

Speaking of "missions accomplished", Sherry and I are at odds about what that means as she reminds me the only throttle-twisting sound she's concerned about right now is that of the hedge trimmer or weed eater. My new mission starts tomorrow.

235 Miles

325 Miles

233 Miles

 

10, 292 Miles

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nearing The Finish Line

Reporting live from Butte, Montana where I stopped 120 miles shy of my Missoula destination yesterday, tired of fighting the wind and rain that has plagued me since leaving Mandan, North Dakota two days ago. Today's plan is to ride the 315 miles to Spokane. Lord willing, I'll be home in two or three days.

When I started this trip the plan was to keep a running account of my adventures via this blog. Obviously that never happened, largely because of my pedantic thinking that all entries "have to be" in chronological order. This entry, for example, violates that concept and is difficult to write. Also, it was preferred that all entries include photos and or videos, which proved to be an overwhelming task to keep up with as days and weeks began to stack up quickly. Usually, at the end of a day my tired mind had difficulty forming intelligible thoughts, much less writing them. Conversely, my mind is fresh and ready to think in the morning. But morning writing (my preference) is most often distracted by clock watching so as not to miss "check out" time. And so it goes, day after day. Then there was my hit and miss success with Internet service along the route. And the latest obstacle is that my movie editing program developed a glitch that might require an uninstall and reinstall. Lastly, could it be the anticipated adventures weren't all that adventurous?

Though it may seem my whole blog idea has fallen apart, all is not lost. I've been writing rough notes along the way, recording thoughts and observations, and most assuredly taking pictures and video that I hope to bring to the blog once I get settled in at home. ....... after the list of chores Sherry has waiting for me. Well, maybe in between those chores, which might take the whole summer to complete. I have learned Sherry has become quite adept at lawn mowing. I therefore don't understand her apathy toward retaining that perishable skill but she's eager to give it up as soon as I enter the city limits.

Once again, "check out time" is looming, which means I have to call a halt to this rambling account of excuses and hit the road. I wanted clear sky and I got it. It's a beautiful morning out there. But Butte is at 5400 feet and it is 38 degrees out there. I can see the Harley's spokes shivering from my second floor window. Where are those long johns I haven't seen since April's cold Oregon departure? At the bottom of my pack I suppose.

9,470 Miles As Of June 23, 2013

My Cousin Vinny

May 25, 2013
I don't have a Cousin Vinny. "My Cousin Vinny" is the name of a 1992 movie starring Joe Pesci as an untested Brooklyn attorney who travels to fictitious Beechum County, Alabama with his fiancee (Marisa Tomei) to defend his young cousin and his college buddy wrongfully charged with murder while on a road trip through The Deep South. The store clerk of the "Sac-O-Suds" convenience store was found shot and killed moments after the two boys stopped there.

The culture clash between Vinny and the southern legal system generates the laughter in this comedy that wasn't filmed in Alabama at all but in and around Monticello, Georgia, which was right along my northern path fifty or so miles east of Atlanta. 

I spent an afternoon roaming the countryside between Madison, Eatonton, Monticello, and the smaller towns of Mansfield, and Bostwick, taking photos of the filming locations I'd read about. Included below are a trailer and clip from the movie, followed by my video of the day's ride, which includes the ending credits song from the movie describing Vinny's "on hold relationship" with his fiancee, Lisa.

Movie Trailer

This 6-Minute video shows the ride between the small towns of 

Eatonton, Monticello, Mansfield and Bostwick where the below pictures were taken.

The General Putnam Motel outside Eatonton is where 
Vinny and his girlfriend, Lisa, spent their first night and 
were awakened by an incredibly loud steam whistle.

The Cafe Where Vinny Saw His First "Grit"

Monticello, Georgia's town square is where the shot was taken of Vinny and Lisa arriving
 in town and discover they don't blend with the locals. And they have mud in their tires.

The exterior of the courthouse shown in the movie is the actual courthouse
 in Monticello, seat of Jasper County, Georgia. And since it is an operating courthouse,
 the interior scenes in the movie were shot on a movie set at a location closer to Atlanta, 50 miles west.

Jasper County Courthouse in Monticello, Georgia

An actual convenience store / gas station when the movie was filmed, 
this building was the "Sac-o-Suds" in the movie and his located 9 miles west of Monticello.

This building in Mansfield, Georgia was used for the exterior 
shot of the pool hall where Lisa lost her money.

Vinny goes into the pool hall to retrieve Lisa's money and is challenged by a redneck.

The historic Susie Agnes Hotel in Bostwick, Georgia was the Parker Hotel 
in the scene of Vinny standing on the balcony, having been awakened 
by squealing pigs at a slaughter house across the street.

My Cousin Vinny Filming Locations

194 Miles

Not Lost, Just Confused

May 23, 2013
The GPS programmed for Raiford, Florida, I left the motel in Fanning Springs. Not that I'd ever heard of or needed to go to Raiford, but according to Google Earth it's a central location from which to line up with my northern destination of Douglas, Georgia, another place I've never heard of or needed to go, but it lines me up with back roads that keep me east of Atlanta, a place I "have" heard of and have no desire to go. First I had to get to Raiford, only 64 miles away. One hour.

It was a beautiful morning; Clear and dry; No sign of last night’s downpour; Pretty roadside flowers while meandering through quaint towns of Florida's backwoods. Birds were singing (I suppose).  The elevation was starting to rise, hanging in there between 150 and 200 feet. I made it to Raiford without a hitch.

I didn’t need fuel at Raiford but was in need of food, having missed breakfast. And there wasn't even coffee at the Park Inn in Fanning Springs. The granola bar and water I had in LaCrosse didn’t take. Nothing in Raiford but a convenience store / gas station called "Kangaroo Express". I've seen others. Must be a chain down south?

That'll do, I reasoned, thinking mainly of coffee in spite of the already sweltering heat. But what I really wanted to buy in the store was a Georgia road map. Though the GPS was working fine, I wondered about its sudden loss of calculating power causing me to stumble out of Saint Augustine two mornings ago. What if it happens again? I need a map backup. 
 

The store had no maps. Sign of the times I guess. Pretty soon paper maps will be obsolete, if they aren't already.  I settled for some Hazelnut coffee and two apple fritters, which I sipped and chewed while sitting "side saddle" on the bike in the semi shade, watching the locals come and go. Kangaroo Express is the happening place in downtown Raiford.

I set the GPS for Fargo, Georgia, another small town on my backroads quest, and followed it's directions onto County Road 229. As I did so a peripheral glimpse caught the words of a passing sign ... something about a bridge out on 229 in Baker County.

For six miles I wondered if that's what it actually said. I also considered the GPS information that I had to be on County Road 229 for 31 miles before turning onto Highway 2, to Fargo. It would be my luck to come upon the washed out bridge in 30 miles and have to backtrack all the way to Raiford. It was time to consult the GPS about its "detour" feature. I stopped in the isolated jungle, in the skin-melting-no-shade heat, and we discussed the situation.

The GPS advised a couple miles up the road was a left turn onto County Road 238. I went there and did that. The road was even narrower and more isolated than 229, if that's possible.  Two miles until a “right turn” on 3^rd street, said the GPS. How could that be? We're in the middle of nowhere. Okay, there must be a town in two miles. Wrong! There was a road though, or what used to be a road, never paved and was grown up in weeds. I rode on. The GPS went nuts, but just for a moment. Now it wanted me to take another right turn ahead. Yep. Another dirt road. Again I ignored it. Again the GPS panicked. We argued all the way to Lake Butler, a small town that surprisingly popped up out of no where. Soon thereafter we were north bound on Highway 100, a real highway with a center line and traffic, which we followed all the way to Fargo and beyond.

Nothing of consequence happened the rest of today's ride unless you count being rained on. I didn't mind. It was a quick dousing and actually felt good.

Taking a closer look at Google Earth, here at the motel in Douglas, Georgia, I wonder why I chose to go to Raiford in the first place? It was a waste of 23 miles there and back to Lake Butler, which should have been my choice from the start. 

The GPS would like me to mention the dirt road actually has a name. It's the "Dowling Cutoff Road" and  does in fact lead to a real road, eventually, albeit via a maze of other dirt roads.

Granola Bar Stop In LaCrosse, Florida

Breakfast At The Kangaroo Express In Raiford, Florida

Image From Google Earth Showing
The Dirt Road Suggested By The GPS.

Fanning Springs To Douglas, Georgia (197 Miles)

June 16, 2013 Progress Map at Ashland, Wisconsin (8,200 Miles)

Meeting Cousin Rick

May 22, 2013
As it was with Ralph and Joy, I'd never met Cousin Rick before but have communicated with him for several years on matters of genealogy, and it is from him I received a digital photo of my 2nd Great Grandfather, Alney Green Newman, a rare treasure indeed. It is only fitting that I at least meet Rick before leaving Florida and I intended to do just that if I could find my way out of Saint Augustine.

As much as I've "bad-mouthed" my Garmin GPS for its wayward ways while  directing me across the country, I realized this morning how dependent on it I am. It failed to "calculate" the 115 mile route to Fanning Springs. Suddenly I felt lost.

Thanks to Cousin Ralph I had a genuine paper version of Florida a zipper length away, in my pack. Having evolved from "real maps" over the past couple of years, I found the depicted roads and numbers frustratingly tiny and my reading glasses struggling to make sense of it all. Had to break out the magnifying glass, which I had the foresight to bring on the trip.

The map showed Hwy 1 out of town to 207 to 17 leading to Palatka and 26 to Gainesville and on to Fanning Springs. Not having the GPS to look at, I'd have to remember all those connections or stop and dig out the map again. How did I find my way around in the old days?

Somewhere along the way the GPS kicked in and things were fine after that. I have no idea what the problem was, unless it was humidity gumming up the works? I blame everything on humidity these days.

Before long I was back in the land of purple wild flowers and cow-filled pastures that I remembered from passing through the area on my way into Florida over two weeks earlier.

Fanning Springs is a two motel town and, naturally, I picked the one farthest away from a place to eat, or so it seemed when my starving arrival prompted a ride around town in search of something quick to eat.  I passed a restaurant but didn't want a sit-down-meal, just something to take the edge off my hunger that was last satisfied by a motel breakfast in Saint Augustine. Surely there was a McDonalds or Burger King in town. It didn't take long to discover the borders of town and the lack of such convenience. I also learned, that in my haste, I'd overlooked a small building right across the highway from my motel ..... a hamburger stand called "Chompers". Appropriate, I thought, as I chomped into a cheeseburger while discussing the pros and cons of cross country motorcycle travel with a friendly local guy.

I had previously left a message for Cousin Rick that I was in town. He called when he got off work and said he'd meet me at my motel within the hour. He did. We had a good visit, getting to know each other better and, as is our common interest, discussed our mutual "Newman" ancestry. My mother's people were Newmans as was Rick's great grandmother, Anna Garret Newman. She was a sister of my great grandfather, Alney Jefferson Newman. And Rick, Joy and I share the same great, great grandfather, Alney Green Newman.

I was treated to dinner by Rick and his wife, Susan, at the Lighthouse Restaurant. She met us there. We discussed a variety of subjects, one of which is the fact that Rick and Susan, both in the teaching profession, are at rival high schools. While Rick is the principal of Bell High School, Susan teaches English at the high school in nearby Trenton. They cheer against one another at sporting events.

It was a short but nice visit. Rick dropped me off at my motel and Susan quickly snapped our picture together before the predicted thunderstorm, brewing all afternoon, broke loose with a downpour, rumbling thunder and some flashes of lightening. Rick promised it would be gone in the morning. He was right. I had a sunny ride all the way to Georgia.

Rick's, Joy's, Jim's, Bob's and Glen's Great-Great Grandparents
Alney Green Newman with wife, Milly Mariah (Sawyer) Newman,
with their children, Samuel Orville Newman and Nancy Winifred Newman c1890. 
 Alney Green Newman Served with the 30th Iowa Infantry During The Civil War.



Rick's Great Grandparents
Anna Garrett Newman and Eugene C. Tanquary
Their Daughter, Madge (Rick's Grandmother), lived to be 104.

1892 Wedding Picture of Mine  Bob''s, Jim's, and Joy's Great Grandparents,
Alney Jefferson Newman and Minnie Belle Sanders

Video of Ride To Fanning Springs From St Augustine
115 Miles In Less Than 10 Minutes

3rd Cousins, Rick and Glen

Edgewater To St Augustine (90 Miles)

St Augustine To Fanning Springs (115 Miles)



Saint Augustine

May 21, 2013
Riding to Saint Augustine from Edgewater is a short ride, only 90 miles. Joy suggested I take the coast route, Highway 1A. Nice choice. Though a little overcast, and I think it's the humidity fogging up my video lens, it was still a pleasant, leisurely ride next to the ocean.

Closer to Saint Augustine the predicted possibility of thundershowers looked more and more a valid threat and the sky looked downright ominous when crossing the bridge into town. But I made it to my motel without a problem. In fact, it never even rained. Rather, the intense heat from the returning sun was the problem and made it hard to leave the air conditioned confines of Howard Johnson's $69 room. No choice though if, during my one-afternoon-visit, I was going to make a dent in seeing this interesting city.

A quick and convenient way to absorb the sights and associated history of Saint Augustine is to take a narrated trolley tour. For $23 paid at the front desk you can board the "green" trolley (not the red choo-choo looking trolley) at the "Old Senator" tree in the parking lot. I did. And what a ceiling-bouncing, teeth-rattling ride it was.

Most of the video I attempted was of the floor, ceiling, and maybe a few chrome hand rail shots as I grabbed unsuccessfully for stabilization. I was able to edit out most of that chaos but due to the "chopping" process none of the trolley driver's narrative makes sense in the video, requiring it be muted and replaced with dubbed in music.



Branches of The Old Senator Reaching Across
The Patio At The Howard Johnson Motel
   

The Waiting Bench For The Red Trolley,
Not The Green One.

Tree History

I got off the trolley at the "shops" section along a converted alley lined with historic structures, some authentically dating back a couple of centuries. Once useful establishments, they are now tourist-tapping gift shops. Even I dropped a few dollars for a set of chrome salt and pepper shakers shaped like turtles .... more shiny trinkets for Sherry.

I ventured deeper into town, on foot, taking pictures of interesting old buildings too big to capture appropriately, such as Flagler College  and  Cathedral Basilica . Many of these places were revisited from the trolley once I was back aboard. The non-stop narration from the driver (over a loudspeaker) really brought the history to life but I can't remember any of it.

We passed the old fort in the distance. I never took the time to visit it. It would probably take a couple of hours to do it right and, given my near heat exhaustion, it fell pretty low on my "gumption meter". I had already surmised it would take two or three days to adequately visit Saint Augustine. The trolley tour gave great perspective of what's there but it would take several days to look at the details.

The videos and pictures below highlight my short but fun visit. Read about the historic city HERE .

Highway 1 A to St Augustine (6-Minute Video)

 

On The Streets Of St Augustine (10 Minute Video)

Oldest Wooden Schoolhouse In The USA

Sherry Would Love This Place



Crawling With Tourists ... And I'm One Of 'Em

Ralph Took Me To The Columbia In Tampa.
I Didn't Know It Was A Chain?

Cathedral Basilica

I Can't Remember What This Is

Ponce De Leon

Juan Ponce De Leon Explored
The Vicinity Of St Augustine In 1513

Impressively Tall Building Is Cathedral Basilica

Quiet Back Street

Colorful

In The Harbor This Old Sailing Ship Was On The Move

 

Update: Yesterday (June 14, 2013) I reached the "turning point" of my journey, the big left turn at Saint Ignace, Michigan. I'm now inching my way home, dodging stormy weather. Three nights ago I was hunkered down in the hallway with other patrons of the Holiday Express in Portland, Indiana waiting for a tornado to pass by..... but that's a story for another time.

Life On The Edge

May 14 - 21, 2013

I made a two-day ride out of the the 400 mile trip from Key West to Edgewater, Florida, selecting a two-lane country route via the agricultural community of Belle Glade so as to bypass the multi-lane traffic nightmare through Miami.  Except for an overdose of bugs, requiring a side and rear angle for the video camera (to prevent bug-splatter from obscuring the lens) and several stops to clean the windshield, it was a great ride -- clear sky, no wind and the heat kept tolerable by maintaining sweat-abating speeds, especially after getting off the Key West highway where heavy traffic seldom got to 55 mph.



Key West To Belle Glade (220 Miles)



Belle Glade To Edgewater (198 Miles)

Edgewater, Florida is where lives Cousin Joy and Chuck who invited me to spend a week at their home near the edge of a canal leading the short distance to the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, which provides calm passage for water craft from Key West to Maine.

While Chuck worked during the week on construction jobs in the neighborhood, Joy took me on tour each day, saying it would take a week to show me the area.  It did. An excellent cook, Chuck had nice dinners prepared for us soon after our return.

Below is a sampling of photos and a couple of videos that tell our story:

Day 2:

In The Merritt Island Wildlife Refuge
Near Cape Canaveral



Horseshoe Crab Skeleton



Flipped Over View



Egret Crossing

 

Another Egret
(Or Was It The Same One? I Can't Remember)

 

Grooming



Don't Know What This Bird Is



In her truck, joy awaits my picture taking return. She'd cautioned me to watch out for alligators. (I had been watching the whole time I was in Florida and the only alligator I saw was the baby Captain Doug was passing around to the airboat crew.)



Looking For Manatees In The Haulover Canal 



Manatee

Manatee Nostril Shot



When Joy came to Florida from Kansas in 1968 she began a career at NASA, next door to the military installation at Cape Canaveral. Part of the NASA facility is seen on the horizon. Joy worked in the building on the right. 

This is a closeup of the rocket launch towers shown on the left in the above photo. It was from here the ill-fated "Challenger" was launched. Joy was working that day in 1986. But it wasn't her fault.

 

 Another View Of The NASA Launching Site

Night Shrimping With Chuck (4-Minute Video)

Day 3:



Joy and I had breakfast
at the Goodrich Restaurant

The Tackle box Holds The Items You Need ...
i.e. salt, pepper, napkins, sauces, etc.

Captain Goodrich

Turtle Mound is a 35-foot high pile of Oyster Shells,
a refuse pile made by the native people between 800 and 1400 AD. Click HERE for the story.

Cousin Joy On The Walkway
To The Turtle Mound



View From Atop The Turtle Mound



Eldora State House
(Click Eldora for the history of this place)

Eldora State House



Eldora State House



Speaking Of Turtles Here's
One Crossing In Front Of Us

I Followed Him For A Closeup

Day 4:

Ponce De Leon Lighthouse

Been Around A Long Time
Click HERE

Joy Lives About 30 Miles
South of Daytona Beach

We Did A Driveby Of The
Daytona International Speedway

South of Daytona is this infamous "biker bar" where female serial killer Aileen Wournos frequented.  
Arrested here in 1991, she was executed in 2002.

Day 5:  Chuck and Joy took me on a picturesque boat ride about 8 miles up the Intracoastal Waterway, turning around at the Harris Saxon Bridge. Chuck explained the upright 2x4's on the boat are for rigging nets used in commercial "shrimping", which he is breaking into. For more information on the "Waterway" click HERE

  15-Minute Video: Boat Ride With Joy and Chuck



One of Chuck's friends had a good night on the river
and gave Chuck some of his excess shrimp.



More Than Enough For Dinner




One Escapee


Day 6: Joy and I spent some time looking at old family photos and scrapbooks, sharing our memories of various relatives. Thanks to her "grandma Milly" who collected news clippings, recorded family data, wrote poems, organized and saved family photos we have lots of information on our mutual Newman "roots".

1909 Wedding Portrait of
Mildred Belle Newman and Charles Clarence Casida
I knew her as "Great Aunt Mildred",
older sister of my grandfather,
Sam Newman. Joy knew her as
"Grandma Milly".

Day 7:




Legend has it that Al Capone owned this house on Riverside Drive in New Smyrna Beach at the Edgewater city limits during his notorious reign as gangster boss. During his stays here he had a handy escape route through a nearby canal to the ocean whenever needed.



"You're Not Going To
Take My New Bed Are You?"



My stay in Edgewater proved to be the perfect time to have the 10,000 mile service done on my bike at the nearby New Smyrna Beach Harley shop. And what timing. Give or take a few miles the odometer read almost exactly 10,000 miles. Joy followed me to the shop where I dropped the bike off then took me back the next day to pick it up. It was also an opportunity to get a much needed haircut.

Many thanks to Joy and Chuck for the delicious meals and their wonderful hospitality.

P.S. .... Not sure what's going on with "blogger" but from my perspective the fonts are of a different size in various areas? Maybe it will work itself out? (And the spell checker quit. I'm on my own to find the typos.

P.S. again. It is probably known I'm not where I say I am. I'm way behind in this blog due to touristic distraction and "iffy" Internet service from time to time. Though there are other stories to tell and photos to share, I figure I'll jump ahead and give a "current" location.

June 5, 2013: I'm in Bardstown, Kentucky, leaving for Washington, Indiana tomorrow to visit Navy buddy "Jim". After several days of good weather, thunderstorms are predicted from here to there. Umm?

Jim and Vern, who I visited in Texas, were both on the USS Truxtun Signal Bridge with me in 1971. We hadn't heard from each other since we all got out in '72. Vern found some Truxtun photos on my Smugmug site last November, left his email address in the comments section, and we are once again connected. He had always stayed in contact with Jim. So, now, I am too.