Like Terminator Arnold once said, “I’ll be back.” He also uttered the less famous, “Can you put cheese on that?” which is neither here nor there.
Anywho.
Yes, Diedre and I have once again embarked on our 3rd annual 6-month tour of the country where we see the sites, taste the foods, and annoy all our friends and relatives living in our great 48 states (Probably not going to RV to Alaska and most assuredly not to Hawaii). As loyal followers may recall, our first trip (2013) was mainly the Midwest while last year we extended our trip to 7-months in order to see the South, the East Coast, and then that hypotenuse that crosses back through the country via Branson, MO. This year’s venture will see us going straight west till we run into the ocean (“Pacific” for you geographically challenged Oles), then going north along the coast till we get to the edge of the Canadian border where we’ll stick our thumbs in our ears, wiggle our fingers, and yell, “NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH!” Anything to further the relations between these two great countries.
From there, we’ll go east across the plains to our home state of Minnesota before bouncing back across the country to see 7 or 8 national parks in North Dakota, Wyoming, Utah, and Delaware (That should be a good trick). We should be home by October 11 in time to get back on the road for nephew Jake’s wedding in Los Angeles a week later. Three weeks after that, we’ll celebrate my Medicare birthday by leisurely cruising the Panama Canal on an old navy gunboat. DK will be running chow for 40 sailors while I’ll be pulling “iceberg patrol duty” to help meet expenses.
On the Saturday before we left Arizona, we invited our desert friends to say good-bye to us at any of our stops on the infamous, 12-hour "Traveling Farewell Pub-Crawl Party." At 8 a.m., we left the friendly confines of our palatial Terravita home for our all-day, 9.1-miles walk. We breakfasted in downtown Carefree at the Sundial Café with longtime Minnesota friends Marty and Georgia Jessen. We were joined by legendary 50’s and 60’s cowboy TV star Peter Brown and his wife, KK. I may have mentioned once or twice (or 17 times) last year that I wrote a book about Peter’s life titled, “The Fastest Gun in Hollywood: The Life Story of Peter Brown” which is still available at Amazon.com and fine used-bookstores everywhere. So there’s your Xmas shopping all done for you now.
You’re welcome.
From there we hiked over to The Tap Haus in Cave Creek where we were joined by Teddi Axne (Diedre’s mentor for her life-altering Grand Canyon hike) and actor Walt Pedano who amazingly enough played me in my first play, “Buzzard Ball” even though he’s quite a bit more handsome than I am (There’s a stretch).
More stops ensued: a snack at the local Dairy Queen (sugar-free Dilly Bar for Alexx),
Margaritas at El Encanto with good friends Gail and actor Tom Koelbel who played “The Big Eunuch aka Rusty Schwantz (RUSTY SCHWANTZ!?)” in my 2nd play, “Murder at Savings & Loan Ballpark (S.Lo.B.)”;lunch at Brian's Barbecue with Tom and fellow actors Barb and Ed Como (also in “S.Lo.B.” as LuLu Belle Angelo and Pete Petunia respectively); Gin and Tonics at The Smoke House with Yoga Jill and her hubby and neighbor English Lesley King and current squeeze American Paul; from there, it was just Diedre and me for beers at Hogs and Horses; then a quick, relaxing stop at The Buffalo Chip before dinner and night-caps at Harold's Cave Creek Corral with wonderful new neighbors Clare and Bill Leach and my brother and sister-in-law, Mark and Linda Alexander.
Finally, at 7:30 PM, we were going to finish the arduous day with a 3.3 mile "crawl" home. Fortunately, we were saved by Mark and Linda who graciously gave us a ride home to save our soles (souls?).
Okay, on to this year’s trip. First, here’s a reminder about the blog-abbreviations we often use: “AB1” for our RV, “DK” for Diedre, and “IANMTU” for “I am not making this up.” Names to know are “Charlie,” our 18-pound Ragamuffin cat; “Casey,” our lovable but troublesome middle-child Birman cat; “Samantha,” our 14-pound, “little” girl Snowshoe cat; “Zippy,” our candy-apple red, 4-door Honda Fit; Air-Barty-One, our motor home dedicated to our benefactor and Diedre’s mom, Barbara Diederich; “Penny,” our often criticized yet totally indispensable GPS; and “Genie,” DK’s unusually smart phone who fights an ongoing battle with her step-sister, “Penny.”
As another reminder, remember our rules: 1) we generally only travel on Sundays; 2) we try to limit our RV drives to 300 miles/five hours; 3) we try to not schedule anything on Mondays as it is our “R&B” day (Rest and Blog); 4) we try our utmost to get to each weeks’ campground well before sundown so that we don’t have to set up in the dark; and 5) and finally, we know that there will always be problems on the road, so our vow is to laugh whenever RV-life throws us a curve.
Let the pitching begin.
The first part of the trip is called “YUMA/SAN DIEGO.”
On Friday, April 24, we were going to leave early, like 10 a.m., for Yuma, Arizona, only … it rained. We laughed. Then the refrigerator didn’t work because we were out of propane … we chortled. After we remembered how to use our generator to get the fridge to work, we were again ready to leave … but then the steps that automatically go in and out whenever we open the door broke … well, now we were rolling on the floor. DK quickly showed it was no problem by doing a yoga move to climb up into the cabin. At 1 PM, we called the repair guy, then retreated to the house where, while waiting for our savior, downed some peppermint schnapps and Kool –Aid, not because we like it so much, but it was just that was all we had left in the house.
It was now 2:30. We should have been in Yuma by now, but instead, we were still sitting on our front steps waiting … waiting … oh, the interminable waiting!
Finally, the mobile RV repair guy shows up. He’s about 10 years old. In one minute, he says the steps special bolt is broken and it’ll take him time (at $100/hour) to drive around town and find this “special” bolt.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
We paid him his $100 for five minutes work and then said, “Screw it! We’re leaving.” We finally got on the road about 3 PM, getting in to Yuma well after dark.
Well, so much for AB1 Rule #4. I had to continually adjust my glasses in order to see well enough to set up camp in the dark.
We’re number 1!
On Saturday, the fun continued as we couldn’t get any hot water. The chimps at the RV repair place we used back in March had forgotten to turn the necessary hot-water switch back on, and we, being “chimps-in-training,” couldn’t do any better. That brought much guffawing on our part.
Incidental note: While people from Pittsburg are called “Pittsburgers” and people from New York are called “New Yorkers,” people from Yuma are called … wait for it …. YUMANS! As in “You’re a fine Yuman being.” And now you know the rest of the story.
Back to the trip. There was not a lot to do in Yuma. To illustrate that opinion, the local newspaper had a big article on the Yuma Middle School’s state championship team.
“The Sport?” you might ask.
Well, they were the state championship “Rubik’s Cube” team. IANMTU (see above abbreviations directory).
For entertainment that night, we forked over $5 each to see the play, “The Cagebirds, ” a 42-minute, 1-act performance at the AWC (Arizona Western College) Theatre. Now remember, we’re two people who on last year’s trip spent over $1000 for eight Broadway shows in New York. We’re kind of at the other end of the spectrum here in Yuma. The theatre looked like group therapy as we were seated in two of 44 metal folding chairs situated in a circle. It was like attending an AA meeting … not that I’ve ever been to an AA Meeting. My only addictions are chocolate (sugar free … NOW!) and 1950’s comic books. This “theatre-of-the-absurd” concerned six lost souls re-running their daily routines until a new thought was introduced. I quickly had a new thought:
“GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
Finally, we escaped Yuma and made our way on Sunday to San Diego (actually Chula Vista). We were greeted there by Diedre’s longtime, previous-life work friend, Jody Willnow. From our top-rated campground, we walked to dinner at a wonderful ocean-front restaurant a block away. Jody originally knew DK only by her secret identity of “Patricia,” so she has compromised with our nomenclature desires and calls my girl “PahDiedre.”
Back in RV form, we followed AB1 Rule #3 and relaxed on Monday with some R&B, beach yoga, and walks in the pretty camp park populated with many ducks.
Okay, back to this park’s edition of the RV repair guy. As they said in ancient Rome, “Veni. Vidi. Stinki,” or translated by my five-and-a-half years of Latin, “He came. He saw. He stunk it up.”
Yes, this more mature repair guy came also couldn’t fix the steps. Once again, we paid $100 to find out it would take 2 weeks to get step parts, and his directions on how to flip the hot water switch were for naught.
Are you sensing a trend here?
We escaped the campground by noon and boarded San Diego’s trolley to the city’s Gas Lamp Quarter, the historic heart of San Diego. After touring the Quarter, we grabbed a quick dinner at Dick’s Last Resort. There was a lot of tomfoolery and camaraderie going on there pre-Padres game. I argued baseball with this one guy for over a half-hour before I figured out he was a statue. He had made some good points, however.
The Padres game that night was being played at Petco Park, stadium number 27 out of the 30 major league ballparks we had pledged to visit. Before the game, we walked the perimeter of the stadium. I purchased a T-shirt of the all-time greatest Padre, Tony Gwynn. We then found his statue and a street named after him outside the ballpark.
It was an incredibly nice stadium with a very open feel. The team: not so nice. The Padres got killed 14-3 by Houston as five home runs were belted. We really enjoyed watching the Astros’ star player, Jose Altuve, who at 5’5” had last year become the shortest player to lead the majors in batting average (.341) and hits (225) since 1900. He was not bad this night either as the little guy went four-for-six with two doubles.
Way to go, Mighty Mouse!
Of the top ten best ballpark foods as rated by “TenBest.com,” San Diego’s “Phil’s Barbecue” was ranked the #1 food out of all the major league ballparks, so we had to try some. And you know what? Good … not great.
Moving along.
Wednesday was a tour day. We checked out the shops at Seaport Village even though buying “things” is not really our cup of tea, especially when we’re downsizing our lives at a mad pace. We then made our way over to Old Town San Diego for a touch of history.
We first visited the Whaley House. It was built by Thomas Whaley in 1856 and is the oldest brick structure in Southern California. It was San Diego’s most luxurious residence … of course, being it’s first residence, it would be the most luxurious one. It was later San Diego’s first theatre.
We then visited the first frame building erected in San Diego in 1850 and which then became the birthplace of the “San Diego Union” newspaper in 1868. From there, it was over to the old town theatre built a few years later.
It’s funny: last year on our trip, we went through the south and east coast and viewed a myriad of historical sites and structures from as far back as the 1600’s. But here in California, their history is a little newer. In Old Town San Diego, some of their stuff dates back only as far as last Tuesday.
Interesting Alexx Fact: the state insect of California is … (drum roll, please) the Dogface Butterfly.
The next day we got into town early to visit the boyhood home of my 2nd favorite all-time baseball player (after Hank Aaron), Ted “The Splendid Splinter” Williams. I had actually seen Ted hit a home run against the White Sox in his final year in the majors when I was 9 years old. He is the last major leaguer to hit .400. To show you what kind of guy Ted was, the morning of the last day of the 1941 season, he was hitting .3995 which rounds off to .400. His manager suggested he sit out the game to preserve his average.
“No effin’ way,” Ted said. “I’m playing. If I’m going to hit .400, I’m going to do it legitimately.”
So he gets five hits that day and ends the season hitting .406. And it’s never been done since.
Ted started as a professional in 1936 with the San Diego Padres minor league team … BEFORE he was out of high school! He was a lifetime .344 hitter with 521 home runs. And that’s with five years off to fly as a fighter pilot in both World War II and the Korean War where he flew 39 combat missions. He had six American League batting titles, 18 all-star game appearances, was a two time MVP, and was elected to baseball’s Hall of Fame in 1966. I had to pay tribute to him with a visit to the house where it all started.
From Teddy Ballgame’s home, we headed out to the massive Balboa Park, named for the explorer, not the ham-and-egg boxer. The park is a 1,200-acre recreation and cultural center with 15 museums and several performing arts venues. I called it “The Smithsonian in the Forest” due to its scenic grounds surrounding the many museums. There, we met up with Sara Oswald, a longtime friend of Diedre’s and a bridesmaid in our Hawaiian wedding 24 years ago, and her partner Jay. We wandered the beautiful campus stopping for a photo-op at the park’s Old Globe Theater. I eventually split away from the group to take a personal tour of the San Diego Hall of Champions Sports Museum. Admission was free on this particular day because of the extensive remodeling they were doing. The Hall of Champions consisted of athletes either from San Diego or who had played for San Diego teams. I especially enjoyed the exhibits on Ted Williams, Tony Gwynn, and seeing Randy Jones’ 1976 Cy Young Award.
Friday morning we awoke to the gentle (gentle?) meows of Casey, our middle-child cat. Today was his 8th birthday, so we celebrated the morning with birthday treats. We offered to take Casey to the big, new “Avengers” movie, but being the kind, gentle soul that he is, he opted to stay home and watch “Downton Abbey.” That’s just the way he is.
Speaking of birthdays, I’m noticing more signs that I’m getting old. I recently broke my watch band. I went to three places searching for a replacement, but not one of them carried watchbands. I guess everybody uses their cell phones now to tell time while I still prefer the old reliable sun-dial.
Then of course, I still like to read the newspaper every day, but I think I may be the only one. Again, it’s the phones. DK and I went into a Starbucks. Of the 11 people there, 10 were reading their cell-phones and only one (me) had his nose in a paper. They looked at me like I was from the Stone Age.
Dagnabit!
That day we were going to hike Torrey Pines with Sara and Jay, but the parking proved to be problematic, so we ended up at the ocean doing a sand-hike on Solana Beach. Jay is a pretty interesting guy. He spent the entire walk with a bag picking up litter. I found out Jay had gone to college at Duke University (where loyal blogists may remember me visiting last year). But what was really impressive was that he had been the Duke Blue Devil mascot from 1971-72. That makes two big-school mascots I have known, the other being Mike Looby who was “Goldy Gopher” at the University of Minnesota also in the 70’s.
Saying good-bye to Sara and Jay, we stopped at the legendary Hotel Del Coronado on our way home. The Coronado has been a San Diego landmark forever. It’s where the wonderful movie, “Some Like It Hot,” was filmed in 1958 with Diedre’s all-time favorite movie star, Marilyn Monroe.
When we arrived, we tried to park in the hotel parking lot, but had to back up and turn around when we realized parking there cost $28 … FOR TWO HOURS!!
WHUTT?!
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor (or something like that), we drove all the way across the street, maybe 50 yards, and found an open parking meter for two hours … FOR 50-CENTS!!
Again, WHUTT?!
We sat there for a few moments and thought out loud:
$28 dollars? … 50-cents? …
28? … 50? …
Twen? … Fif?!
Finally, I made an executive decision: we went with the 50-cent parking meter. Of course, we did have to walk all the way across the street. Oh, did I mention that the $28 was for self parking, not valet? For valet parking, I think you had to give them your first borne.
The Coronado has some wonderful historic exhibits. One piece of 1952 advertising stated that rooms then were $26 a night. Gee, that’s two dollars less than for parking in their lot today … for TWO HOURS!
The hotel was built in 1888. Their early promotions included boasts that there was no malaria, tuberculosis, hay fever, or yellow fever like in Florida, or cholera like in Spain and Italy. So there’s that. Frank Baum wrote some of his “Oz” stories from the veranda of the Coronado. The place was massive, but so enticing. DK and I decided we’ll probably spend my 70th birthday week there. Get your reservations now to join the party.
Friday was also the day that the Arizona State University spring semester ended. For those of you who weren’t aware, I’m still a student. Working with the head of the A.S.U. Theatre Department, I wrote my 12th play as an independent study. It’s called “The Hobo Diet” and is an adaptation of a book written by Logan Mosier, one of our actors. The subject of the play is about being homeless in Las Vegas. Keep an eye on the Tony Awards.
Okay, our last day in San Diego was a full one. In the morning, I made my way out to the Chula Vista Olympic Training Center. Being a huge fan of the Olympic games, I wanted to see the facility where future Olympians train. And I was not disappointed. I watched some wheelchair tennis, field hockey, and BMX bicycle racing on facilities of the highest quality. However, it was sad to see that the softball field had gone to seed since the International Olympic Committee (IOC) had eliminated softball and baseball after the 2008 Beijing Olympics. The Americans are trying to get those two sports back in the Games in time for the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo, Japan. If that happens, I guess they’ll re-seed the ball fields.
This facility brought back a lot of personal Olympic memories for me. In 1972, I actually came close to participating in the Olympic Games. I tried out and was selected for the national “43-Man Squamish” Olympic team. It’s quite popular in countries that are spelled with a “Z.” I was a top “outside underblat” and was especially adept at “walling the pritz.” Unfortunately, our federation failed in its attempt to be included as one of the Games’ official Olympic sports. And now, ironically, 43 years later, we’re still waiting. Ever the optimist, I stay in prime squamish shape by organizing yearly practice games. Unfortunately, it’s tricky getting 85 other squamish players together, so I play the abbreviated “2-Man Squamish” game with my buddy, Alps, where surprisingly, the major rule change is that the object of the game is to lose.
From Chula Vista, we zipped into uptown San Diego to lunch with Phoenix theatre friend Terry Helland. Terry had been the artistic director for quite a few years at Scottsdale’s Desert Stages Theatre. As busy as he was during shows there, he always had time for us and never let us actually pay for a ticket during his realm. To completely pay him back for hundreds of free tickets, we bought him lunch. Drinks were on him.
Then it was on to see friends Sara and Jay for one last time. It was a sort of combination “Kentucky Derby and Laundry” party, complete with Mint Juleps and All-Temperature Cheer. I predicted a win for “American Pharaoh” while Diedre predicted I would wash red towels with our whites resulting in yet again more pink underwear and sweat socks.
Amazingly, we were both right.
Our last dinner in the land of the recreationally savvy was a sushi feast for Jody and her pal PahDiedre. Then, as a way to ready ourselves for driving in L.A., we watched the most significant movie segment we could think of:
The chariot races from “Ben-Hur.”
"Extremus extra deprehendo!"
Talk to you next week.
Note from DK - this is my fault - Alexx wrote this back in December, 2014 and I never got it posted. I don't know where the time has gone, but we are now less than 2 weeks from heading out on our 2015 trek! So this should remind you of where we ended with everyone last October and give you a preview of what you are in for this spring and summer should you choose to follow us again. So excited to get back out there!! And now for a little flashback:
Dear Faithful Followers: After a month and a half back home and off the road, we're finally settling back into the homebody rhythms. But before we settle down for a long winter's nap, I thought I'd first review our seven months on the road (which will also mostly double as our Christmas card letter) and then get you all excited about 2015 by letting you know what's in store for us and AB1 next summer. Here goes: There were a lot of numbers for AB1 involved in 2014:-nights on the road: 214-miles driven: 10,945-miles our golf clubs vacationed and were never used: 10,945-states visited (in which we camped at least 1 night): 24-new states visited: 13-total states visited over last two years: 30-new states to visit in 2015: 7 (leaving us just AL, AK, AR, CT, DE, KS, KY, MS, RI, VT, VA, WVA; Hawaii doesn't count for obvious reasons))-campsites: 42 (stayed in same Flagstaff, AZ, campground on two occasions)-crossword puzzles done while driving between campgrounds: 65 (of which we got 46 correct)-baseball games watched: 19 (10 major league, 6 minor league, 2 Little League World Series, and 1 vintage (1864 rules and uniforms))-major league stadiums out of 30 yet to visit: 4 (Angels, Giants, Padres, Mariners-we'll see all 4 next summer)-stage plays seen: 19 (of which 8 were on Broadway and 3 of those were Tony Best Play winners)-concerts attended: 10 (including visits to both the new and the classic Grand Ol' Opry's, Nashville, TN, and concerts by The Oak Ridge Boys, Branson, MO, and Frankie Valli and the 4 Seasons, Hyannis, MA-relatives visited: 31-friends visited: 16-Carleton College alumni visited: 8-softball tourneys played in: 2 (one champion and one third-place) The highlights of our Marco-Polo-like trek were many and varied. We stood on such hallowed ground as the San Jacinto battlefield (TX independence); Fort Sumter (Charleston, SC-Civil War start); Cameron Indoor Arena (Duke University basketball, NC); the Wright brothers 1st flight take-off and landing sites (Kitty Hawk, NC); the Boardwalk (NJ); the Brooklyn Bridge and Central Park (NY); Pilgrim's first landing (Corn Hill, MA); Marconi's first transatlantic broadcast location (Cape Cod, MA); and the original London Bridge (AZ). History, boy, it was everywhere. We visited famous homes such as O'Henry's (Austin, TX), Thomas Edison's (Ft. Myers, FL), and President Taft's (Cincinnati), and also some quite historical buildings: the President Lyndon Johnson Library (Austin, TX), Jean Lafitte's blacksmith shop (New Orleans), Independence Hall (Philadelphia), The Anchor Bar (Buffalo, NY, home of the original "Buffalo Wings), and the Hershey (PA) chocolate factory. Diedre and I also managed to take in the great outdoors, always necessary when one is roughing it in a 35' motorhome complete with fireplace, microwave, two flat-screen TV's, refrigerator, and oven. We swam in the world's largest natural spring pool (TX), endured a tornado (FL), climbed Stone Mountain (GA), toured the beautiful Acadia National Park (ME), walked on Goat Island (Niagara Falls, NY), climbed down into a majestic slot canyon (UT), walked a loop around the iconic Left Mitten of Monument Valley (UT), and finally made it to the ultra-scenic Canyon de Chelly (AZ). We paid our respects at the following graves: golfer Bobby Jones (Atlanta), baseball player Shoeless Joe Jackson (SC), Arlington National Cemetery, statesman Ben Franklin (Philadelphia), President Ulysses S. Grant (NY), the World Trade Center Memorial, and novelist James Fenimore Cooper (Cooperstown, NY). We visited a few museums (The National Archives, The American History Museum, and the Holocaust Museum, all in Washington, D.C.) and saw remnants of the Civil War ironclad ship, "The Monitor," at The Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum on the Outer Banks, NC. We (make that "I") even made it to three national halls of fame and museums: baseball (Cooperstown, NY), golf (St, Augustine, FL), and track and field (New York City). We also were able to either actually touch (T) or at least come within a foot (F) or two of The Gutenberg Bible (F-Austin, TX), the Ebbets Field (T-Brooklyn Dodgers stadium) 1913 cornerstone, the gravestone of my great-great-great-great-great-great Revolutionary War fighting grandfather (T-PA), John Capeletti's Heisman Trophy (T-Sate College, PA), the Forbes Field Wall where Mazeroski's 1960 home run won the World Series (T-Pittsburgh), and several of Mark Twain's manuscripts (F-SC). But beyond seeing all these great sites, it was really the more personal events that are most memorable to us: Diedre meeting Broadway legend Tommy Tune ON-STAGE (Houston); me scraping the side of Air-Barty One against an all-too-narrow bridge (Cape Cod); our RV park manager bringing freshly-caught-and-steamed lobsters right to our door 3 nights for the ridiculously low price of $7/pound; for a moment, Diedre being the easternmost person on land in the U.S. (Eastport, ME); long-time friends Mary Harberts and Jo Gemmill surprising DK on her 65th birthday by showing up unannounced (of course it was unannounced ... it was a surprise!) on a showboat in Branson, MO; zip lining for the first time in our lives on the actual day DK qualified for Medicare; volunteering for a week at Best Friends, the largest animal rescue in the country (UT); and me burning my fingers on a Navajo stove in a native hut called a "hogan" (I luckily recovered in a day or two.) All in all, it was a great time, but we were exhausted when we pulled into the driveway at our Cave Creek, AZ, home. Luckily, we have our memories (such as they are) and this blog to remind us of all the great times. We are so thankful to have been able to make it this far and that we didn't wait any longer to go after our dream. Now for 2015. Here's our tentative schedule below. If we're going to be in your area, make sure to put us on your calendar and let us know what days work for you to be annoyed by us. Also, if any of you have any suggestions of places to see or great restaurants in the following areas, please let me know. We do keep a list.2015 (TENTATIVE) AB1 ITINERARY:April 24-26 - Yuma, AZApril 26-May 3 - San Diego, CA - Padres Game May 3 - May 10 - Anaheim, CA - Angels GameMay 10-May 17 - Los Angeles, CA May 17- May 18 - Fresno, CAMay 18 - 24 - San Francisco/Oakland area - Giants gameMay 24-27 - Klamath Falls, ORMay 27-31 - Cannon Beach, ORMay 31-June 7 - Bainbridge Island/Seattle area - Mariners game - last of the 30 stadiums!!June 7- June 13 - Coeur d'Alene, IDJune 13 - June 20 - West Glacier, MT June 20-June 22 - Bozeman, MTJune 22-June 25 - Custer, MTJune 25-June 27 - Williston, NDJune 27-June 28 - Minot, NDJune 28-July 1 - Fargo, NDJuly 1-July 26 - Minneapolis, MNJuly 26-August 2 - Dyersville, IAAugust 2 -August 9 -Sioux City, IAAugust 9 - August 13 - Rapid City, SDAugust 13-August 16 - Sheridan, WYAugust 16-August 23 - Yellowstone, WYAugust 23 - August 30 - Grand Teton, WYAugust 30 - September 6 - Jackson, WYSeptember 6- September 13 - Twin Falls,IDSeptember 13-September 20 - Provo, UTSeptember 20 - September 27 - Canyonlands, UTSeptember 27- October 1 - Bryce Canyon, UTOctober 1-October 4 - Mesquite, NV - softball tourneyOctober 4-October 10 - St. George, UT - softball tourneyOctober 10 - home to Terravita So till the next blog starting our year 3 on the road is posted in early May, take care. We'll talk to you then. Diedre and Alexx
Okay, we’re down to the last blog entry for “AB1’s Travails … (make that “Travels”) 2014.” It’s been one exciting moment after another for seven months, but now it’s time to act like a grown-up and go home and pay some bills. Our time on the road was summarized nicely by loyal reader John Janezic from Mesa, AZ, who enjoys following us on Facebook. He calls it our “constant vacation.” I like the sound of that.
On Sunday, October 19, we made our way to Monument Valley, Utah. It was the only site this year out of the 43 campgrounds at which we pitched our mobile tent that we also visited last year. Unfinished business and all, you know. We had actually planned to stay further east at Canyon de Chelly (pronounced “d’SHAY”), but there didn’t seem to be any campgrounds with full-service hook-ups (electricity, water, sewer, cable), and we didn’t want to risk the cats getting stuck in AB1 with no air conditioning on an unseasonably hot day. They also need to watch their “stories”on “Animal Planet” cable, so, Monument Valley it was. The next day we made the 85-mile drive to the aforementioned Canyon de Chelly (CDC) National Monument. This incredible freak-land of nature has some of the most beautiful scenery in the country. In fact, after pretty much seeing the whole nation this year, we’d both have to say that the prettiest natural scenery is in the Arizona-Utah lands of canyons and mountains … just our opinion, remember. CDC was established on April 1, 1931. Its 84,000 acres are located within the Dine’ (Navajo) Nation Reservation. A few Navajo families still live down in the canyon making it one of the longest continually inhabited areas in the North America. Native Americans have lived there for over 5,000 years. It was only (only?) about 700 years ago that they moved away, probably due to lack of water. The walls that create the canyons are 1,000’ high over the canyon floor. On our self-guided tour, we stopped at a few overlooks. The first was Spider Rock, an 800’ tall spire that is the most prominent landmark in the area. It was named for “Spider Woman,” the deity who taught Navajo woman how to weave. She’s a distant relation to Spiderman.
We also made stops at Face Rock, Sliding House, and finally the White House overlook. At this last one, we hiked the only trail down into the canyon permitted without a Navajo guide. As usual, going down was easy; going up, well, we made a few more stops to rest up. When we finally made it to the bottom, we were rewarded with the site of The White House Ruins/Cliff Dwellings. They are absolutely incredible. Approximately 12 families used to live at the White House Ruins which had 80 rooms. The cliff dwellings were constructed around 1060 A.D. A lovely French-Canadian couple was nice enough to take our Christmas card picture for us in front of the ruins. Our cards will be titled: “Merry Christmas … from the White House!” Our fine Monument Valley campground had the good sense to offer cable TV hook-ups, so the next day after some extensive R&B (rest and blogging), we were able to watch game 1 of the 2014 Major League Baseball World Series. It’s something I never miss. The Giants’ Madison Bumgarner was tough again as he led the Bay Area boys to win #1. Now all you Kaye and Stuart blogsters are keenly aware that we don’t normally pay to take tours. We like doing it on our own, figuring things out for ourselves. Plus, you’re usually at the mercy of the many weird eccentricities of the other tour customers. But unfortunately for us on Wednesday, the 17-mile road through Monument Valley is far too bumpy for us to drive our little Zippy, so we decided that the only way we were going to get to see the incredible sites of the Valley was to bite the bullet and take the tour. Good luck to us today. Our Monument Valley campground was in Utah, but most of the park is in Arizona. It’s also a Navajo Tribal Park; its 30,000 acres were established in 1958. Its elevation is 5,500’ on the Utah-Arizona border. The first inhabitants of the Valley were the Anasazi who built cliff dwellings there some 1,500 years ago, then vanished.
To see as much as possible without shooting the whole day, we opted for the morning deluxe tour of 3.5 hours. Besides the sites of Monument Valley, we also got to go into a traditional Navajo shelter. It was a hexagon shaped dome structure called a “hogan” where an elderly Navajo woman showed us how to weave blankets. She used some of her homemade yarn to tie up Diedre’s hair as my comely wife was the only lady young enough in the tour with somewhat long hair. I then proceeded to pull the bonehead move of the day (or better “the week, the month, or the year”) when I tried to take DK’s picture with the elder Navajo woman. Not paying attention as I am wont to do, I attempted to kneel down for a better picture by bracing myself on a nearby metal table … only … it wasn’t a table. It was a stove. HOT! HOT! HOT!
Yes, I and about everybody else in the hogan yelled, although I was the only one who burned the four fingertips on my left hand. Luckily, Joe the Navajo Guide had a rare old Indian salve that he smeared on my fingers. Miraculously, it took the pain away immediately as well as my fingerprints. If I’m going to commit any major crimes in the near future, I’ll have to do them left-handed so as to leave no fingerprints. Joe had a Navajo name for his rare burn ointment. He called it “bah-ka-teen.” I noticed the bottle spelled it “Bactine.”
Coming back rapidly from that near-death experience, I gamely hung in there and finished the tour. We made it to “John Ford’s Point,” named for the first Hollywood director to use Monument Valley for movies. His initial film there was “Stagecoach” in 1938 starring John Wayne.
There were so many incredible natural rock formations. I can’t remember what they called one, so I named it “The Big W” which you’ll no doubt remember from that great movie from the early ‘60’s, “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World.” I can still remember a dying Jimmy Durante telling the group who found him after he drove his car off a cliff, “IT’S UNDER THE BIG ‘W’ I’M TELLING YOU! 350-G’s AND I’M GIVIN’ IT TO YOU! I TELL YA, I’M GIVING IT TO YOU! THE BIG W!”
We also made it to “The Big O,” although the natives prefer to call it “The Big Hogan.” It was a natural amphitheater with an incredible natural hole in the rock ceiling. As we laid on the ground looking up at The Big O, native guide Joe sang to us an ancient tribal Indian song; I think it made the Top 40 in 1887.
Although the sites were spectacular, we really can’t recommend this tour to you, our loyal blogophiles. It seemed that every ten minutes, Joe was stopping the tour bus at mini-flea markets where his pals and palettes were selling Indian jewelry and other trinkets. It was time better spent seeing the countryside, but we really had no voice in the matter.
One year ago on the 2013 AB1 Tour, Diedre and I had hiked around the legendary Monument Valley landmark, The Left Mitten. Just short of four miles, we had gotten halfway around it when the rains came. Lucky us. This year, under very blue skies, we decided to try it again. It’s one of the best hikes we’ve ever taken, although for whatever reason, this year we were completely exhausted by the time we got back to the trail head. Maybe we needed the rain to energize us. When we got home, we collapsed on the couch, barely able to stay awake to see Kansas City even up the Series at a game apiece.
On Thursday, October 23, we drove to Flagstaff, AZ, for a two night stay. We had originally scheduled it to meet up with DK’s cousin, Connie, whom she hadn’t seen in 30-some years. Unfortunately, Connie was called out of state. But we had never really given Flagstaff a fair shot, having driven through it at least 20 times on our way to and from Minnesota, but never stopping for anything more than gas and a Burger King. So on this night, we decided to walk the historic downtown portion of the city. And it was fascinating.
The next day we saw another of Arizona’s Native American ruins at the Walnut Canyon National Monument. Elevation there was 6,690’ at the trail’s start. The ancient Sinagua people appeared here about 1,400 years ago. In 1915, Walnut Canyon was declared a national monument to preserve the remains of 300 ruins, mostly cliff dwellings. The homes, built on the side of mountains using huge rocks naturally cantilevered out as roofs, acted as natural fortresses. The most scenic hike led up and down the mountain as we investigated the centuries old cliff dwellings. Diedre also got in some much-needed Grand Canyon training while I tested the strength limits of every bench they had along the route. 
Exhausted and starving, we made our way back into town to a place we had been to in years past. The Beaver Street Brewery is loved by us for three things: an incredible tap beer selection; the best Fish Tacos of all time (says Diedre); and the best (says Alexx) Chicken Caesar Salad (with anchovies) ever. The salad was so huge that no matter how much I ate … it never got any smaller! “How can that be?” I asked. “Oh, it be, “ replied Diedre Kaye (Note another “Seinfeld” reference).
After that hardy lunch, we walked off some of the calories by checking out the campus of the nearby Northern Arizona University. Diedre wanted to see the theatre department’s offerings because so many of her young students and actors had attended college there. As part of my history fix, we found the first campus building erected in the late 1800’s; now it’s an art museum. It was a very pretty campus, especially with the autumn leaves falling everywhere. We’re just not accustomed to seeing leaves, at least not since our time in Minnesota 17 years ago. It was fun to see them again, although I told Diedre in no uncertain terms … I’M NOT RAKING THEM! We then picked up pizza and boogied back to AB1 in time to see KC win World Series game #3. YAY!
OK, one more stop to go, then it’s home again for the first time in seven months. While we drove to Lake Havasu, AZ, DK and I went through our usual ways to pass time while going between campgrounds: crossword puzzles, sports trivia, brainstorm sessions and research about a play I’m working on (entitled “The Hobo Diet”; watch for it on Broadway soon), and books-on-tape (CDs). We had been so enthralled by the book, “Unbroken” by Laura Hillenbrand that at times we couldn’t wait to get back into driving mode so we could hear more of the story. Well, today we finished it. It was the incredible true story of Louis Zamperini, an American runner who qualified for the 1936 “Hitler” Olympics, and who later, as a bombardier, crashed in the Pacific, survived 47 days on a life raft while constantly battling sharks and Japanese aircraft gunners, and then went through two years of absolute hell in Japanese prisoner-of-war camps. It was a gripping tale. It premiers as a movie on Christmas Day; you won’t want to miss this one. Settling in that night at the fine Havasu Springs RV Park and Resort, we relaxed as the Giants evened up the Series at two games each. The unrelaxing part would come tomorrow. Historically, Diedre and I avoid time-share presentations like the plague. Oh sure, we did one in Key West, FL, in order to get both free snorkel cruises and free admissions into the Ernest Hemingway House, complete with six-toed cat descendents of Ernest’s original pets. And on the island of Cozumel, Mexico, we did cave in on a 90-minute presentation in order to get free use of a motorbike for touring the island. But those happened 20+ years ago, and we had never done one since. Life’s too short and there’s too much else to see and do on our trips to waste time subjecting yourself to the entreaties of high-powered sales people. So, we didn’t … until now. This resort offered something we actually might use: free camping for life all over the country for a one-time fee. That plus an offer of four free nights on this trip plus $100 of gas and a free I-Pad knock-off (I think it was an “R-Pad”) made the 90-minute presentation seem somewhat reasonable. Sooooo, on Sunday, October 26, we met with Stacy, the campground timeshare guy. I knew I shouldn’t trust him almost immediately; he was wearing a Green Bay Packer T-shirt. After the presentation, he did that salesman thing where he pushed for a commitment right away. Diedre wanted to do some research on his offer, so in the end, he gave us 24 hours. While I then watched Madison Bumgarner win for the Giants again, Diedre got out her computer and calculator and went to work. That was not a good sign for Stacy. It turned out that by reading the fine print, Diedre discovered that the “free” camping promised us would actually cost about $3,000 a year in miscellaneous “fees.” The next morning, Stacy was shocked to hear that; apparently the resort had fooled him, too. We said we might consider it again in two years, and like that, our 90-minute commitment was over.
Before dinner, we hiked the Bill Williams River National Wildlife Refuge, both The Delta Trail and The Peninsula Trail. It’s an incredible bird sanctuary and there’s also apparently very good fishing in the area. From there, we drove into Lake Havasu City. It was founded in 1963, but multi-millionaire Robert McCulloch of McCulloch chain-saws And Engines really gave the city its notoriety when he bought at auction the nursery rhyme famous London Bridge for $2.46-million in 1968. The London Bridge was erected in London over the Thames River in 1831, but 90 years later, they realized it couldn’t handle the weight of 20th century automobile traffic, so the city put it up for sale. Winning bidder McCulloch then had the bridge disassembled, the bricks painstakingly numbered, and had it shipped to Lake Havasu City. The bridge was reconstructed in 1971. I especially like that the vintage lamps on the bridge were made from the melted down cannons of Napoleon Bonaparte’s army.
Dinner that night was at a brewery that was practically ON the London Bridge. And contrary to what I’ve heard many times over the years, London Bridge is NOT falling down. Dinner was followed by a walk over to the movie theater to see that wonderful new Bill Murray movie, “St. Vincent.” We both recommend it. Bill Murray attended Regis College with my lifelong friend, John “Duppy” Lamb, back in the late 60’s. If you ever get a chance, ask Dupp to tell you the story of when Bill Murray pranked him with the “Atomic Sit-up” gag. It’s pretty funny.
For all practical purposes, that movie was the end of “RV Trip 2014.” On Tuesday, we had our last R&B. We packed up for the final time as we watched the Royals rally to tie the Series at 3-games all. Then on Wednesday, October 29, we set sail for the last time this year. In just three hours, we’d be home for the first time in 212 days. Although it has been a great time these past seven months, as Dorothy so wisely once` said: “THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME! THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!” See you in 2015!
Yes, Diedre and I have once again embarked on our 3rd annual 6-month tour of the country where we see the sites, taste the foods, and annoy all our friends and relatives living in our great 48 states (Probably not going to RV to Alaska and most assuredly not to Hawaii). As loyal followers may recall, our first trip (2013) was mainly the Midwest while last year we extended our trip to 7-months in order to see the South, the East Coast, and then that hypotenuse that crosses back through the country via Branson, MO. This year’s venture will see us going straight west till we run into the ocean (“Pacific” for you geographically challenged Oles), then going north along the coast till we get to the edge of the Canadian border where we’ll stick our thumbs in our ears, wiggle our fingers, and yell, “NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH!” Anything to further the relations between these two great countries.
On the Saturday before we left Arizona, we invited our desert friends to say good-bye to us at any of our stops on the infamous, 12-hour "Traveling Farewell Pub-Crawl Party." At 8 a.m., we left the friendly confines of our palatial Terravita home for our all-day, 9.1-miles walk. We breakfasted in downtown Carefree at the Sundial Café with longtime Minnesota friends Marty and Georgia Jessen. We were joined by legendary 50’s and 60’s cowboy TV star Peter Brown and his wife, KK. I may have mentioned once or twice (or 17 times) last year that I wrote a book about Peter’s life titled, “The Fastest Gun in Hollywood: The Life Story of Peter Brown” which is still available at Amazon.com and fine used-bookstores everywhere. So there’s your Xmas shopping all done for you now.
More stops ensued: a snack at the local Dairy Queen (sugar-free Dilly Bar for Alexx), 
Margaritas at El Encanto with good friends Gail and actor Tom Koelbel who played “The Big Eunuch aka Rusty Schwantz (RUSTY SCHWANTZ!?)” in my 2nd play, “Murder at Savings & Loan Ballpark (S.Lo.B.)”;lunch at Brian's Barbecue with Tom and fellow actors Barb and Ed Como (also in “S.Lo.B.” as LuLu Belle Angelo and Pete Petunia respectively); Gin and Tonics at The Smoke House with Yoga Jill and her hubby and neighbor English Lesley King and current squeeze American Paul; from there, it was just Diedre and me for beers at Hogs and Horses; then a quick, relaxing stop at The Buffalo Chip before dinner and night-caps at Harold's Cave Creek Corral with wonderful new neighbors Clare and Bill Leach and my brother and sister-in-law, Mark and Linda Alexander.
On Friday, April 24, we were going to leave early, like 10 a.m., for Yuma, Arizona, only … it rained. We laughed. Then the refrigerator didn’t work because we were out of propane … we chortled. After we remembered how to use our generator to get the fridge to work, we were again ready to leave … but then the steps that automatically go in and out whenever we open the door broke … well, now we were rolling on the floor. DK quickly showed it was no problem by doing a yoga move to climb up into the cabin. At 1 PM, we called the repair guy, then retreated to the house where, while waiting for our savior, downed some peppermint schnapps and Kool –Aid, not because we like it so much, but it was just that was all we had left in the house.
For entertainment that night, we forked over $5 each to see the play, “The Cagebirds, ” a 42-minute, 1-act performance at the AWC (Arizona Western College) Theatre. Now remember, we’re two people who on last year’s trip spent over $1000 for eight Broadway shows in New York. We’re kind of at the other end of the spectrum here in Yuma. The theatre looked like group therapy as we were seated in two of 44 metal folding chairs situated in a circle. It was like attending an AA meeting … not that I’ve ever been to an AA Meeting. My only addictions are chocolate (sugar free … NOW!) and 1950’s comic books. This “theatre-of-the-absurd” concerned six lost souls re-running their daily routines until a new thought was introduced. I quickly had a new thought:
Back in RV form, we followed AB1 Rule #3 and relaxed on Monday with some R&B, beach yoga, and walks in the pretty camp park populated with many ducks.
Yes, this more mature repair guy came also couldn’t fix the steps. Once again, we paid $100 to find out it would take 2 weeks to get step parts, and his directions on how to flip the hot water switch were for naught.
We escaped the campground by noon and boarded San Diego’s trolley to the city’s Gas Lamp Quarter, the historic heart of San Diego. After touring the Quarter, we grabbed a quick dinner at Dick’s Last Resort. There was a lot of tomfoolery and camaraderie going on there pre-Padres game. I argued baseball with this one guy for over a half-hour before I figured out he was a statue. He had made some good points, however.
The Padres game that night was being played at Petco Park, stadium number 27 out of the 30 major league ballparks we had pledged to visit. Before the game, we walked the perimeter of the stadium. I purchased a T-shirt of the all-time greatest Padre, Tony Gwynn. We then found his statue and a street named after him outside the ballpark.
It was an incredibly nice stadium with a very open feel. The team: not so nice. The Padres got killed 14-3 by Houston as five home runs were belted. We really enjoyed watching the Astros’ star player, Jose Altuve, who at 5’5” had last year become the shortest player to lead the majors in batting average (.341) and hits (225) since 1900. He was not bad this night either as the little guy went four-for-six with two doubles.
Then of course, I still like to read the newspaper every day, but I think I may be the only one. Again, it’s the phones. DK and I went into a Starbucks. Of the 11 people there, 10 were reading their cell-phones and only one (me) had his nose in a paper. They looked at me like I was from the Stone Age.
