Travel Archives

March 10, 2013March 10, 2013

On the Road to Florida

I had to pull out of Cape on March 4 in order to make it back to West Palm Beach by March 6. As usual, I got a late start. No departure would be complete without taking a final photo before backing out of the driveway.

I think I’m getting better at these photos. Either my arm is getting longer or Mother and I are shrinking in our old age, which makes it possible to get us both in the photo.

Headed across the bridge

This is an appropriate bookend to the trip. I posted a photo when Friend Jan made me turn around to get the bridge and the moon in a picture the night we pulled into Cape.

Atlanta skyline and traffic (what else?)

I left Cape in snow flurries, and woke up in Manchester, Tenn., to rain. By the time I got to Monteagle Pass, the rain had turned into a monsoon and the winds were threatening to blow me across two lanes of traffic. It was hard enough to stay on the road in my Odyssey van. I don’t know how an empty 18-wheeler could have handled it.

I hoped to get an Oink Moo Burger at Dave’s Modern Tavern, but it wasn’t open. A woman in a nearby business recommended an Italian joint just down the road. Their pizza was excellent. Just as I was switching from my eating glasses to my seeing glasses to pay the bill, the left side of the frame came apart and dropped my lens on the carpet. Fortunately, there was a CVS drugstore next door where I could buy a replacement screw. A helpful women at the checkout counter put the screw back in for me since I couldn’t see to do it.

All of this piddling around put me into Atlanta at rush hour. I hadn’t planned to take another photo of a traffic jam in my favorite city, but we were stopped and the skyline was interesting. I think all the cold weather may have caused the lube in the camera mirror mechanism to stiffen up. I had a few frames with dark tops a couple of days ago, and the gremlin struck again here. While I wouldn’t mind some kind of out-of-this-world General Sherman coming down to devour Atlanta, that was simply not happening here.

Crawfish at Bubba Jax

I get odd cravings on the road. For some reason, I had a hankering for Dairy Queen’s chicken strips with white gravy and a Blizzard for desert. A sign promised at DQ in Valdosta, but I couldn’t spot it. As luck would have it, I opted to make a U-turn into Bubba Jax Crab Shack. It was a nondescript kind of place, but there was a fair number of cars in the lot, so I decided to take a chance. A chalkboard at the entrance said they had a special on crayfish.

I love Cajun forms of crawfish, so I placed an order without asking how they were served. While waiting for my order to arrive, I saw plate after plate of lightly battered fried oysters and onion rings walk by. I was wondering if I had made a mistake.

When the server placed a bunch of red shells in front of me, I was sure I had. “This is embarrassing,” I confessed. “I’ve shucked oysters, peeled shrimp and cracked crabs, but I’ve never tackled crawdads before. How do I attack these beasts?”

She said, “I’m not exactly sure. I know you eat the tails and some folks suck out the insides from the top, but they’re not exactly my thing.”

When she came back, I suggested that she put these on the menu as the Dieter’s Special “because you burn more calories peeling them you gain in consuming the critters.” I got better and faster, but I sure wish I had ordered the oysters. I’m going to put crayfish on the list of things like crunchy rock shrimp I’m going to avoid as being too much work.

Lunch with the grandsons

While I was out of town, Grandson Graham turned 2, and Elliot was added to the family on February 4. Parents Adam and Carly asked if I wanted to meet them for lunch at a hamburger joint on March 7. Are you kidding? This was my first glimpse of Elliot. I’d have shot more photos except that he was sound asleep. I learned with Graham that you do NOT want to have a screaming awake baby on your hands. I had forgotten they don’t come with a mute switch.

Graham’s a big boy now

There’s nothing like having a newborn in the family to make a two-year-old look like a big boy. It’s incredible how much more he’s talking than when I last saw him about six weeks ago. Grandson Malcolm, who is eight, is almost as tall as his grandmother, and looks like he’s going to be asking for the car keys in another week or two.

Graham, even after getting a spit-shine from his mother, is still wearing a significant portion of his lunch. (You can, as always, click on the photos to make them larger.)

March 2, 2013

I-55’s Big Rock Cut

If you are in a family where the Dad builds roads and bridges for a living, going for a ride is a whole lot different than it is for most families.

For one, Dad would slow to a crawl anytime he passed another contractor’s job so he could see what techniques the guy was using. If his competitor had some kind of new, spiffy piece of equipment, he’s say, “I wish I had his and he had a better one.”

We couldn’t make a trip from Cape to St. Louis without him pointing this area out as “one of the biggest rock cuts on I-55 in Missouri.”

By the time I got to St. Louis on February 25, those clouds were dropping snow from the sky. After I finished my exhibit in Ohio and drove back to Cape from St. Louis on March 1, more clouds were causing snow to swirl across the road.

What IS it with snow this year? It seems like everyplace I’ve gone lately has had snow. I’m afraid to go back to Florida next week for fear I’m going to cause it to snow on Wife Lila’s new vegetable gardens.

February 6, 2013February 6, 2013

Pencil Sharpener Museum

Let me say right off that a guy who can put his hands on his grade school Valentines and almost every negative he’s shot since 1959, doesn’t have much room to wiggle when it comes to talking about what someone else collects.

Passenger Jan and I were blasting down the backroads of Ohio on our way to Old Man’s Cave when she spotted what looked like a welcome and information center. We did a quick U-turn and headed back.

One of the things I like about rural areas is that you can do things like U-turns and stop in the middle of the road if you want to take a picture.

Jan, a Florida native, wasn’t used to roads that curve and have deep dropoffs. About half her early postings were that she feared she was going to die in a crash or, worse yet, go flying over a cliff Thelma and Louise-style to meet her end in a ball of fire and/or freeze to death because nobody would find us until around March 15, when the buzzards would pass over on their way to Hinkley, Ohio.

People here drive, they don’t AIM their car

“Jan,” I explained patiently, “people outside of Florida learn to DRIVE their vehicle, not POINT it. Florida puts guard rails on perfectly straight stretches of road if there is a canal within 300 feet. Up here, you can have a 300-foot dropoff at the edge of the shoulder and it’s assumed that you are going to keep the car on the road because if you DON’T, there’s a 300-foot dropoff at the edge of the shoulder.”

She eventually quit whimpering. Or, maybe I just got to where I tuned it out.

So, back to the Pencil Museum

The Paul A. Johnson Pencil Sharpener Museum, which might measure roughly 10′ x 20′, is located on the grounds of the Hocking Hills Regional Welcome Center at 13178 State Route 664 South, Logan, Ohio, 43138. It is open to the public for free Mondays through Saturdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sundays from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. You can find out more at the center’s website.

It does NOT take you long to go through it unless you REALLY appreciate pencil sharpeners.

No puns or word play

First off, I am going to write this without any cheap puns because the walls of the place are covered with newspaper stories writers and editors tried to make “clever” and “cute” with bad puns and plays on words. I won’t do that, not because I don’t like puns and silly word play, but because some topics are too easy. This is one of them.

I have that camera

I have that camera pencil sharpener on the shelf in my office. I think Wife Lila may have given it to me. When Paul Johnson’s wife gave him a couple of sharpeners for a Christmas present after he retired in 1988, it triggered a dormant sharpener collecting gene. Before long, he had more than 3,400 of the things in all shapes, kinds, colors and subjects.

I showed more restraint. Besides, I liked mechanical pencils that didn’t need grinding.

Wife donated collection

When Paul died in 2010, his wife, Charlotte, donated his collection to the welcome center. (You can click on any photo to maker it larger.)

I bet you’ll recognize something

The odds are pretty good that you’ve owned at least one of his collection. In addition to the camera, I saw the old-fashioned plastic pencil boxes that had a sharpener built in that we used in grade school. He arranged his art objects by category.

Used to give them away

Early news reports said Paul would give away his duplicates to visitors. All of the ones on display now are supposed to be unique.

Plenty of color

Some of the colors are eye-catchingly, garishly blinding.

The Museum isn’t somewhere I’d go miles out of my way to visit, but it’s worth a stop if you want to kill a few minutes. The workers at the welcome center are friendly and the restrooms are clean. What more can you ask for? That’s the point of it, right?

Darn! I ALMOST made it without using any puns.

February 1, 2013

Snow in St. Louis

I decided to stay over in St. Louis Tuesday night because it was snowing a little and I didn’t want to run into icy conditions on the way south. Ironically enough, it was snowing harder Wednesday afternoon than it had the night before.

I was running low on gas, so I stopped to fill up before getting on the road. While watching dollars get sucked into my tank, I noticed white pellets on my dark coat. This isn’t too bad, I thought.

It was coming down a little harder when I spotted the store on the right. Wife Lila has a birthday, Valentine’s Day and the anniversary of our first date coming up in February, and I saw something that might get me off the hook for being in Missouri all of February. It’ll be our secret, though. Don’t tell her.

Snow filled my mirrors

While I was parked at the store, the wind and snow were blowing up from behind the car. I came out to find my rearview mirrors packed with snow and the snow starting to stick on the ground. It was also clinging to the sides of the trees. (Like always, click on the photos to make them larger.)

Hoping school would be called off

Seeing the school bus pass made me remember the old days.

Many a night I’d get up to look at the sky against the streetlight outside the bedroom window to see if a predicted snow had arrived. School officials back then, knowing that most of the students walked to school uphill and barefooted, figured we were tough enough to handle two or three feet of snow, so classes were rarely cancelled.

Of course, that would set me to stomping around the house railing, “What are they trying to do, kill us?”

Not quite sticking to road

Even though the snow Wednesday was wetter than Tuesday’s, it wasn’t sticking on the road yet. I saw salt trucks out later, but they may have already made a pass.

Swirling snow

The strong side wind and the rush of traffic made the snow slither and swirl making me think of a ghostly white snake running in front of me.

Gee, no kidding

The helpful highway sign suggests that we “Watch for Changing Road Conditions.” Like we’d never have thought of that on our own.

The snow stopped at Pevely, just like someone had thrown a switch. There was quite a bit on the ground around St. Genevieve, but the middle of the trip was precipitation free. About 35 miles north of Cape, around Perryville, it started coming down hard again and continued all the way into Cape. That’s funny because Perryville was always the weather system dividing line: if there was snow in the region, it usually STOPPED at Perryville.

I’d have shot more pictures, but I had forgotten how cold weather will drain camera batteries. I can usually shoot 500 or 600 pictures between charges, but not on this trip.