BSR Marietta; Suzy and Ruthie; Home, Sweet Home; Hunting Geckos; A Clean Coach; Walking Sticks; A Fishy Gift

Before departing Dobbins AFB, we were able to get a run in, and while on the trail, I admired these marsh grasses and the purple berries below on some plant-like green thing. (Remember, I'm a sailor, not a horticulturist.)

We put Marietta, GA, in our wake, and had a long day's drive heading south on I-75, arriving for our last night on the road at another Air Force campground outside Valdosta, GA, just a miles north of the Florida state line. As anxious as we were to get home, we didn't want to arrive late at night and face unloading the Coach when we were tired from a long day's drive. The puppies were also anxious to get one last squirrel chase in before going home to our street (which lacks the furry little rodents), but we were disappointed and found only mosquitoes. 


One last half-day's drive and we arrived back in The Villages! But before driving to the house, we visited Suzanne's Lovely Mom Ruthie, who had recently downsized her home and moved into new digs nearby in Oxford, FL, at Steeplechase. It was great seeing Ruthie again - I owe her about a dozen chicken enchilada dinners after being gone all summer. Fortunately Suzanne was able to visit her for a week over their shared birthday, but they were both ecstatic to be back together for the rest of the year.






Our little hunter, Rudy, is also happy to be back home. We may not have squirrels on the street, but he has been going crazy chasing geckos. I think the score stands at Rudy 4, Geckos 0. Unfortunately, he must have eaten one, and it didn't settle well. I'll leave the description at that... yuck! As for little Gretchen, she just watches her big brother Rudy for a few minutes and then goes to sit next to Suzanne.








I spent this morning washing The Coach, and it was getting hot and humid, and I was tired. Then as I was just finishing up, My Good Friend Bob came over and said, "Looks pretty good, but you're going to dry it off, right?" For a moment I debated spraying Bob with my still-charged garden hose, but thought better of it to maintain good neighborly relations. "No, Bob, but I can hand you a chamois if you'd like to spend a few hours drying it off..." RV owners across the galaxy will be impressed by the high gloss finish I achieved. Trouble is, it only takes a few miles on the road before the bugs splatter up the front windshield and dirt and dust speckle the sides down low. In any case, she looks pretty good for the moment, eh?




Speaking of bugs, I had forgotten about this photo, taken outside Wichita Falls, Texas. I hope My Good Friend John can identify the grasshopper in this photo; I won't even ask him to try to I.D. the "walking stick" (Phasmotedea), because he's one of those "specialists" that looks down on bugs other than grasshoppers... In fact, the walking stick is a highly adaptable insect that has amazing capabilities to mimic other insects (like scorpions), to camouflage itself (to look like a twig or a swaying leaf), feign death (thanotosis), or to secrete stinging chemicals that irritate a predator. Like their distant relatives the grasshoppers, walking sticks can also discharge the contents of their stomachs through vomiting when harassed, a fluid considered inedible by many predators.

Speaking of animals, when we arrived back home we discovered a "gift" from our neighbor and friend, Jan Blythe (Bob's Lovely but Occasionally Smarty-Pants Bride). Last year when we returned, I found a tiny fishing rod charcoal starter hanging on the pantry door, purportedly to match the teeny tiny fish that Jan and Bob had accused me of catching. This year they hung a fishy hot pad on that tiny rod and reel. I may just leave the next few fish I catch under the hood of Jan's car... (Yes, Jan, I hear you: "That's not much of a threat!") Well, we shall see....

Finally, thanks to all the new friends we met on this summer's Messages of Hope Tour, and to all the old friends back in The Villages whom we're looking forward to getting reacquainted with now that we're home. It was a long trip, 166 days and 12,039 miles, covering 26 states and 2 provinces. We will take a break from now until April 1st 2015, when we will head out on our 200 day, 15,000 mile 2015 Tour, heading from Florida out to California then to Boston and back to Florida... with lots of stops in between! But the Most Special Thanks go to Bev Garlipp, Suzanne's assistant here in Florida who makes our Summer Tours possible. Her hard work scheduling and publicizing events across the country while we are on the road makes it all happen. Thank you, Bev!!! (This was on our departure day, April 23rd, with Elizabeth Magee, MLB and Bev.)



I will be continuing this blog through the winter, so stay tuned! Our next event will be a Celebration of Wolf's Message, set for Sunday October 19th, 7:00-9:00 PM. It will be a fundraiser for a scholarship fund that will help several young single moms complete their practical nursing programs here in Central Florida. Suzanne is reviewing the applications as I type this blog post. We hope you can join us; details are on Suzanne's web site at www.LoveAtTheCenter.com.

Chatt and Nooga; Riverpark; The Delta Queen; Almost Flying; Dam! Kudzu with Your Kale? Georgia on My Mind

Lest you think the lead title of this post is a misspelling, let me set you straight. Some locals use two abbreviations for this charming, vibrant city: "Chatt" and "Nooga". We saw the Nooga Paws Pet Store and the Chatt Tri Club (for triathlon athletes). It's also the home of the song "Chattanooga Choo Choo", originally recorded in 1942 by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra. RCA awarded him the world's first gold record award for selling 1,200,000 copies of that song.








We knew we were lucky to be in Chattanooga when we were unable to fit The Coach in Unity of Chattanooga's parking lot due to some overhanging branches. That sounds very strange, but I'll explain... near UofC is an industrial area with seven or eight large buildings and some decent (read "almost flat") parking lots. Thinking like a true Aide-de-Camp, My Lovely Bride jumped out of her seat and went door to door until she found an Angel-in-the-Flesh named Elaine, at The Tile Store, who contacted the owners and granted us permission to "dry camp" right next to their building since they would be closed for the weekend. While we had no electricity, water or sewer hookups, for a few nights that is not an issue, and we were only a two minute walk from Unity. "All was in perfect order!" (Even better, there was no Grumplestiltsken to harass me...)



After Friday night's successful showing of the Messages of Hope documentary at Unity of Chattanooga, we wanted to see more of this scenic city. We awoke to a chilly 41 degrees, a cold front having gone through while we slept. After breakfast, we decided to ride the city's famous Tennessee Riverpark Trail, which stretches 8.5 miles from the Chickamauga Dam to Downtown. Crossing the Tennessee River gave us a panoramic view of the city.  That's the famous Delta Queen behind My Lovely Bride; built in 1927, she is moored at Coolidge Park, and is a floating hotel for the moment, although there is a serious effort to get her back cruising the Mississippi, Ohio and Tennessee Rivers. She has logged over 2 million miles and 500,000 passengers to date. As a kid, I rode her in New Orleans for the day.

The Riverpark trail was the best maintained and most scenic urban trail I've ever ridden. Spotlessly clean, we passed scores of runners and walkers and a few bicyclists, but we deduced that most bike riders were waiting for warmer afternoon temperatures before venturing out into the 50 degree cold and brisk northwesterly winds, made raw as they blew from the river onto the trail.

I had the opportunity to take a short flight while on our ride. This over-sized mosquito hawk (AKA a dragonfly) graciously offered me a tour of the playground area. But just as we were about to take off, a City Park vehicle approached; Suzanne suggested that I might be arrested if we didn't get on our bikes and vamoose...







The turn-around of the trail was at the base of the Chickamauga Dam, a Tennessee Valley Authority hydroelectric dam that impounds 36,000 acre Chickamauga Lake. Construction by the US Army Corps of Engineers began in 1936, and 903 families and 24 cemeteries had to be relocated. The dam produces 160 megawatts of electricity, and is 5,800 feet long and 129 feet high. 18 spillway bays allow a maximum discharge of 470,000 cubic feet of water per second.(That's more than I use in the shower!)





The trail passes through marshland and past some industrial areas, but it is well-landscaped, and clear of almost all vehicular traffic except at a few small road crossings, so it is a very safe place to ride. These marsh grasses made for a nice contrast against the cloudy azure sky...











I'm not sure, but I suspect that the vines covering these trees and bushes are kudzu (Pueraria montana), which grows so quickly that it kills trees and shrubs by heavy shading. Kudzu is edible, and is used in hangover medicine and herbal teas; there are reports that kale- and quinoa-eaters find kudzu quite yummy. (MLB knows not to serve me any of those three vegetables/plants.)

In the downtown area, high on a bluff overlooking the river, we found the Hunter Museum of American Art, with its classical revival Faxon-Thomas Mansion and modern extensions of the museum. Regrettably, we ran out of time, and had to postpone our museum visit to a future date.











After our bike ride, we took Rudy and Gretchen into the trendy North Shore area for a walk. They saw a huge squirrel under this bridge near Renaissance Park, and enjoyed a brief chase until the chubby rodent ran up this trestle.









Our last event on this summer's tour was Suzanne giving the Sunday message and her Making the Connection presentation at Unity of Chattanooga. A large, very enthusiastic crowd "topped the charts" and the energy was spectacular. We were also honored that the editor-in-chief of Unity Magazine, Katy Koontz, even drove in from Knoxville for the event. We definitely want to return to Chattanooga and see the Unity congregation again! Special appreciation goes to the Unity Volunteers - musicians, singers, audio visual techies, and those wonderful people who provided a full lunch for all of the congregation... and of course to Penny Werth, whose idea it was to invite us to Chattanooga in the first place!




I managed to get one more PT in before we left, a five mile run down from Unity to the Tennessee Riverpark. I even ran into an old college girlfriend there... at least she looked very familiar, but she's aged just a bit and turned green...











We got underway after our final Unity event, headed south for home. We wanted to miss Monday morning rush hour traffic in Chattanooga, and only drove until dark, arriving at Dobbins Air Force Base in Marietta, Georgia where we again are dry camping, as the campground was full by the time we arrived. We still have a two day drive home, but the checkered flag is in sight on our GPS...

Making Tracks; Cheap Diesel; No Thai for Ty; Fried Bologna and Velveeta! Southern Hospitality

We departed Barksdale AFB and Bossier City heading east on Interstate 20 through Louisiana and Mississippi. We made a brief stop for sleep in Marion, MS, not even unhooking the car in a pull-through spot in an RV park, and then early the next morning continued east through Alabama and into Georgia, where we stopped in the southern suburbs of Chattanooga, Tennessee, the site of our last event before heading home to central Florida. For the first time in ages, we traveled completely on an Interstate highway, driving at a steady 65 mph. The miles just rolled by, and diesel fuel got cheaper as the days passed. By the time we arrived in Chattanooga, a gallon was only costing $3.319, as compared to the $3.919 per gallon high in Estes Park, Colorado. I refused to buy $4.50/gal diesel in Canada (I will not willingly support socialism - sorry, Vancouver and Calgary friends) and made sure we had full tanks when we crossed the border. Frankly, I would do the same in the People's Republic of California. (No apologies whatsoever to Governor Moonbeam.)

I had one embarrassing geographic moment when, having made a reservation at Maxwell AFB in Montgomery, Alabama, I realized to my horror and chagrin that we were passing well north of that Fair City, through Birmingham instead, and I had to canx the reservation the following day. I will put that error down to a minor senior moment rather than to any serious navigational challenges. At least I discovered it myself, and wasn't told, "Hey, Dummie, we're not going anywhere near Montgomery!" by My Lovely Bride. The really sad part of the error was that we would miss a great dinner at a Thai restaurant favored by Suzanne's brother Brent and HLB Cheryl. Sigh...

On Wednesday, we arrived at our destination just after 1800, when the local campground office closed. We had disconnected the Toad (our Honda CR-V automobile that we tow behind The Coach) when we fueled, and were proceeding separately down narrow two lane country roads. After becoming separated, MLB got lost, and called me on the cell phone and chided me for telling her to ignore the GPS and follow my obviously inadequate directions... it was not a good afternoon, and to make matters even worse, we had just crossed into Eastern Time, losing an hour, it was past our normal dinnertime, we were both hungry, and I needed a glass of wine somethin' fierce. I arrived at our campground (to remain unidentified to protect my personal safety) 15 mins before MLB, where I had to deal with Grumpelstiltskin, the lady in the office, who would have much preferred to be home boiling neighbor children in a cauldron. (The reviews of this campground almost unanimously noted her disagreeable temperament.) When I described to MLB our less than favorable interaction, she showed almost no sympathy, merely stating that "Well, she seemed very sweet and nice on the phone to me..."  Like, Ty, if you weren't such a dunce, she would have been delightfully pleasant to you and probably would have baked you a cake. (Yeah, maybe one laced with strychnine or ground glass... some days you should just stay in bed...)


Speaking of food, one of the signs we saw on the road was at a Hardee's restaurant. "Fried bologna and Velveeta cheese biscuit" (includes a fluffy fried egg)... can you guess the fat and cholesterol content? (1,858 cals and 65 g fat). The mind reels... sort of like deep fried Twinkies...






On Thursday, we got settled in Chattanooga and did some sightseeing, including a hike in Chickamauga National Battlefield Park, just across the state line in northern Georgia.. This is one of several "Civil War" battlefields that I've wanted to visit for many years. (Historical note: quotes are used in the previous sentence because where I grew up, it was called "The War of Northern Aggression", since it wasn't very civil at all, particularly if you were in the path of that rotten Sherman's march to the sea. Because I am married to a Pennsylvanian, AKA "A Yankee", I have to be somewhat circumspect in my writing. In fact, I was a bit worried that she might pull the lanyard on this field piece while I was taking the picture...)

The battle of Chickamauga was fought in 1863, and was a Confederate victory, although the Union army escaped, withdrawing to the heights of Chattanooga where they dug in for good. This photo shows the Texas monument. Each state has one or more monuments to the 125,000 men (and probably more than a few women disguised as men - that wasn't so uncommon back then) who fought here - 4,000 soldiers died and 24,000 were wounded in two days of fighting. Chickamauga was the second bloodiest battle in the war, after Gettysburg. By the way, the battle was named after Chickamauga Creek, which in Cherokee means the "river of death".






The leaves are starting to turn here, and I was a bit taken aback to see brightly colored leaves on this pine tree, until I realized that they were attached to a clinging vine.












After our hike, we stopped at a Georgia winery. We chatted with a delightful Chickamauga resident named Bradley, who presented us with one of the bottles of local wine that he had just purchased. Thanks, Bradley, for your gracious hospitality and recommendations for sightseeing and restaurants!












Today we moved up to Chattanooga, where we would be showing the Messages of Hope documentary. We were met by Penny Werth, our coordinator at Unity of Chattanooga, who took us to lunch at a local deli. We continue to be impressed by the gracious hospitality of everyone here in Tennessee and Georgia!

A Young Hero; Unity of Dallas; Is That Marzipan? Handcuffs? Beautiful Music; Cypress, Crawfish and Gumbo

Every now and then I meet a young person who breaks all of the stereotypes. Logan Wilson, a recent high school graduate in Colorado Springs, impressed us as we arrived almost at closing time at Chick-fil-A for our traditional post-event cookies and cream milkshake. He was busy mopping the floor (swabbing the deck in Navy terms) with a big smile on his face. We asked if it was okay to sit in the area he had completed, and with an even bigger smile, he said, "Oh, please, sit wherever you'd like. Thanks for coming to dine with us tonight." While I got our milkshake, Suzanne chatted with Logan, and discovered that not only does he work full time, but he also teaches a School of Honor for young men and boys, providing Christian-based lessons in honor, chivalry, civility, and lessons of heroes from the past. I looked him up on line and found rave reviews from a home schooling mother whose two sons had attended his classes. Logan is just out of high school, and is already making a positive contribution to our society that many 30 and 40 year olds should be emulating. Well done, Logan!





Suzanne's most recent event was held at Unity of Dallas, Texas. The nearest campgrounds were a bit of a hike, so we parked in their big back lot (yes, everything in Texas is big), and "dry-camped". Daytime temps were in the high 80s/low 90s, so we had to run our generator for air conditioning.








Suzanne spoke at Unity's Sunday service and followed with her Making the Connection presentation, which was very well received. The youngest member of the Unity Congregation, Keelin, was a real cutie, and after church was on her way with her credit card to a boutique to pick out a christening gown for next week's ceremony. Watch out, Nieman Marcus! Thanks to Laura Sutherland for her warm Texas hospitality and coordination for these events. We are already looking forward to our return to Unity of Dallas.







After the event, we went out to dinner at a nearby grill for fish tacos (MLB) and fish and chips (Moi). Dessert was bread pudding, and herein lies a funny story. We were about to take our first bites, and Suzanne asked me, "What's that white thing on top?" I replied, "I dunno, maybe marzipan?" (We didn't think to put on our reading glasses...) It took a bite to realize that it was a chunk of banana...  another senior moment... sigh. 








Speaking of scrumptious-looking goodies, while walking to the car, I noted this poster in the window of a high-end cosmetics store. I made the mistake of commenting to My Lovely Bride that perhaps in my spare time I could work with selected criminals to help them become model citizens... Smack! "You won't have any spare time, buster!"  (No intended good deed goes unpunished.)

With my head still ringing, we got ready to get underway. Before pulling in the slideouts, Suzanne noticed that our jacks had sunk into the asphalt, which had become very soft due to the 90 degree heat and our coach's 23 ton gross weight. Fortunately they retracted easily, and we were soon on our way east... (The photo shows the imprint with the jack six inches above it)






 

On our way out of Dallas, we stopped at a studio for Suzanne to make a meditation recording. She will provide more info on her web site, but here she is with her sound guy, Matt, preparing for the recording session.

And here is MLB at the microphone, about to start the recording with spiritual composer Jim Oliver's beautiful music...













Then on to Bossier City, just east of Shreveport in northwest Louisiana. This would only be an overnight stop, and our campsite was at Barksdale Air Force Base. We went for a bike ride and discovered Clear Lake, in just a bit different setting than the high mountain lakes we'd been enjoying for the past couple of months. Those are bald cypress trees growing out in the lake, by the way. The bald cypress (Taxodium distichum) is a hardy tree able to grow in lakes and ponds, and its heartwood is extremely rot and termite-resistant. However, older cypress are susceptible to Pecky Rot fungus (Stereum taxodii), which is not related to the term "peckerwood". In fact, that term is an inversion of "woodpecker", and is used to describe certain backwoods Southerners since the red-bellied woodpecker also has a red patch on its neck, and therefore a peckerwood is also a redneck. I do not use these terms in a derogatory sense, since I grew up in Louisiana... it's simply part of the culture and language here, especially in the northern part of the state.


Finally, back to food. Since we were back in my home state, Suzanne graciously suggested that we should go out for some Louisiana cooking. On the recommendation of our good friend Reve Norman back in The Villages, we dined at Ralph and Kacoo's near her former home, and enjoyed hush puppies and homemade bread, duck and sausage gumbo, and sea bass with crawfish, shrimp and lump crabmeat. If you haven't been to Louisiana for its fabulous and unique cuisine, you should think twice about where you spend your next vacation.

Stanley Canyon; Aspens; Quaking; Colo Spgs Event; Do You Foxtrot? A Timely Smile; Ki-Oats and Bears; Hot Nails?

Our third day in Colorado Springs was another glorious day for hiking. At least for me. Suzanne was scheduled to give an in-person reading, so I took the opportunity to push myself a bit, and set out to complete the Stanley Canyon Trail, a 2 1/2 hour, 4.4 mile, 1,200 ft elevation gain "difficult" rated trail in the Rampart Range. The brown squiggly lines on this topographic map indicate changes in elevation. The closer together they are, the steeper the terrain.







 

We had been told about this trail by Lt Col Jim Lovewell, USAF, who had stated, "You will be cursing me under your breath for the first mile or so. It can be a scramble in places. Then it gets easier, and it's beautiful." Jim was correct on every point except one. I was cursing and thanking him out loud, not under my breath. "Thanks, Jim. Darn you, Jim."

The route up was over a lot of broken rock, and much of it loose "scree", similar to gravel. I was glad to have a trekking pole (a telescoping hiking stick made of aluminum) to give me a third leg of stability. Going up, it was helpful. Going down, it was critically important... I fell on my keister three times on the way down as it was; without the trekking pole, that would have been double digits.

As scenic as the steep canyon trail appeared, what made the hike unforgettable were the aspens which had started to turn yellow in earnest. This was my first late September hiking in the Colorado Rockies, and I urge you to find a spot on your bucket list for the chance to see the aspens changing color in person.










I liked looking up into the treetops to see the yellow leaves against the blue sky.













 

Stanley Reservoir itself was very nice, but almost anticlimactic after the canyon and the aspens. There had been very few people on the trail, but here at the reservoir I found eight other hikers. It was like walking into downtown Manhattan after being alone in the woods... well, okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration...

After finishing my hike, I returned to The Coach where Suzanne had completed her reading. A quick lunch and we were on our bikes for another ride on the Falcon Trail, the primo mountain bike trail here at the Air Force Academy. Then a very fast dinner, and then off to our last event in Colorado Springs, where Suzanne gave her Making the Connection presentation at the High Plains Unitarian Universalist Church. Thanks again to Annabel Carney for all your help in making this visit possible.

On Thursday morning we got underway for three long days of driving to Dallas. As I was writing this paragraph, we were driving through northern Texas, the area called Texhoma, since it borders the state of Oklahoma. This is cattle and oil country, and about an hour ago, I was driving past a gas station with $3.43 diesel. Suzanne was on a phone call, and wondered why I was making a quick U-turn. The price here was 30-40 cents a gallon cheaper than in New Mexico or Colorado, so it was a no-brainer. (Many of my decisions are made without using my brain, but I think this was a good one.)

People are more friendly out here in the country than in cities. A guy with a shovel standing on the roadside at the entrance to his ranch just waved at us when we drove by. Yeah, like that would happen in Orlando, Detroit, New Orleans or Philadelphia. Speaking of ranches, many have tall log, timber or metal gates; most just give the ranch’s name, but one near Lake Arrowhead, Texas, the 4P’s Ranch, also displayed “World Champion Foxtrotters”. I turned to Suzanne and said, “Sweetheart, how nice that that rancher and his wife have the time to practice ballroom dancing while their cows are out grazing.” She looked at me kinda funny and said, “Ty, you had better look that up.” So when we traded drivers in an hour or so, I discovered, much to my dismay, that the 4P’s Ranch specializes in raising and training trail and versatility Missouri Fox Trotting Horses, including 3 time world champion “Boss’s Midnight Cash”. Their website also states that this breed “… can do anything that other breeds can do, except be rough, which has identified the breed as the Baby Boomers’ most chosen horse.” Who knew???

"SEXIST!” That’s what I mumbled when Suzanne was driving and was pulling onto I-35 near Denton, Texas. The traffic was heavy, and moving slowly, and she had smiled sweetly and waved at a semi driver hauling a big 53 ft load to her left. Unexpectedly, the guy stood on his brakes and graciously waved her into line ahead of him. My Lovely Bride waved to thank him and asked me, “Ty, do you think he would have let you in so nicely?” “No, Sweetheart, if I had thrown him a smile, I probably would have received a one finger wave…”

My Lovely Bride used to be a Bandie. That's someone who plays in a band... a marching band, in her case. Throughout high school, she was a piccolo and flute player for the Henderson HS Warriors. (As a side note, I am appalled that in spite of today's political correctness, they still use that warlike native American nickname. They should be the Henderson Nice Friendly Persons, or perhaps "The Fighting Earthworms" if an animal mascot is required. But I digress...) Anyway, yesterday as we were departing Dumas, Texas, a small town in the Panhandle, I heard a school marching band practicing.We were headed to Wichita Falls, and I suggested that we take in a Texas high school football game and hear their marching bands perform. This was one of my Truly Brilliant Ideas, because I earned Big Brownie Points with My Lovely Bride.

After setting up camp, we had a quick meal and set out for the local high school, expecting there would be a few hundred people there sitting in portable bleachers. Wrong. We arrived to find that there were very few people at the school, and they were watching a volleyball game. There was no one at the school's football field. Instead, we were directed to a college-sized stadium for the contest between the Wichita Falls Coyotes (pronounced "Ki-oats") and the Brewer Bears from Fort Worth, 125 miles away. The Coyotes were in black and red and the Bears in white and blue. There were several thousand fans in the stadium, and the air was alive with the excitement of the game, but nothing compared to the excitement of my ex-bandie bride.

The game was exciting up to the last minute, with Brewer winning 28-24. But MLB was most enthralled with the two bands. The Coyotes had the best music...

... but the Bear Babes took the prize for best legs... oops... er, what the BlogMeister meant to say was that the Brewer High School dancers had the best choreography.

Finally, the ladies will understand how important nicely polished nails are to My Lovely Bride when she speaks in front of hundreds of listeners in church, which will be the case about the time this blog is published Sunday morning. Well, today, Saturday, we arrived in Dallas, and her first order of business was to get her hair trimmed just a wee bit, and to have her nails done. I heard the story about her nails experience and almost lost my coffee through my nose. After selecting the color, she sat down and the young nail tech started to work. Suzanne must have dozed off for a moment or three, because she opened her eyes to see the tech finishing up her now very sparkly nails... as in, Las Vegas showgirl nails... or maybe Bourbon Street dancer nails??? She could hardly speak, and just then the shop owner walked up, looked at her nails and said, "They look very nice... very sexy." Suzanne had recovered her voice at that point and said, "I have to speak in church tomorrow morning." Both the owner and the nail tech gasped at once and said, "Oh, no! We can fix!"  There is still just a teeny bit of sparkle, but MLB is sure that no one at the church will be shocked by her nails. (Darn... and I didn't even get to see them...)

Zapped; Melanzane and a Fat Tire; Even Fatter Tires! Colorado Springs Event; Garden of the Gods; GG and the Broadmoor; The Marlboro Man; Laugh of the Week

We have experienced our first major casualty to The Coach. While in the Steamboat Springs campground, we noticed a fleeting burning electrical odor. I tried tracing it down, but could find nothing definitive. Then while in Fort Collins, we had an electrical voltage spike, and our 50 amp connection to shore power wouldn't work at all, 30 amp would work fine, but the generator wouldn't pick up any loads at all. It was obviously a problem in the battery charger/inverter, which has a transfer switch that selects the correct power source. The transfer switch had fried. In the Navy, we call this "N.G." - not good. I called TransWest, the local Winnebago/Itasca dealer, which coincidentally is where we bought the coach last year, and they got us in on Friday morning. It took all day to get the parts, but by 1800 (6:00 PM for you landlubbers), our friendly and professional RV technician Lance had completed the repair and we were ready to go. I asked Lance if he had to call his wife to tell her he'd be late for dinner, but he laughed and said no, his wife was a veterinarian for a canine shelter, and loved her work so much she usually arrived home after he did. She could have opened a private practice and made tons of bucks, but her shelter work was more personally rewarding. We need more fine people like Lance and his wife in this world.



We stayed the night in TransWest's RV lot, hooked up to electric power, which now worked perfectly. We were starving by then, and had a late Italian dinner out with Elizabeth Magee, her cousin Rusty and Rusty's husband Jerry Bianchi, who live in Lakewood, Colorado. I hadn't had Melanzane alla Parmigiana (AKA eggplant Parmesan) for ages, and it was yummy. My Lovely Bride had veal piccata. Since we were near the New Belgium brewery where my favorite beer is made, I felt obligated to have their Fat Tire amber ale. (It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.) Jerry was my trout fishing partner during our visit last year, but he says fishing hasn't been very good this summer, probably due to heavy rain, high temperatures, poor insect hatchings, phase of the moon, excessive pollen in the air, etc. (Fishermen always have 57 reasons for not catching fish...)



The next day we saddled up the coach and headed south to Colorado Springs, where we are currently established for five nights. As we checked in, there was a prominent sign warning of a cougar that walked blithely through the campground just a week ago in broad daylight. We now keep our bear spray close at hand when walking the puppies. The campground, called Peregrine Pines, is delightful, with lots of pine trees for shade and very few neighbors, since it's after Labor Day and Air Force doesn't have a home football game this week. We even got to wash The Coach in a special RV wash area; this is most unusual, since 99.9% of campgrounds do not allow the practice.








Suzanne got me out for a mellow bike ride after we got set up. At least she claimed it would be mellow... "Ty, this is going to be easy since we're down in elevation to only 6,600 feet." Well, sports fans, let me tell you, the Falcon Trail is not mellow... it is not easy... it is hilly (1,521 foot ascent). Here is MLB pointing to the Air Force Academy chapel with its 13 spires near the top of the trail. I didn't want my picture taken because I was gasping for air like a flounder in the bottom of a fishing boat...












The Falcon Trail is also very sandy in many places, and if you haven't ridden a bike in sand recently, it's a killer. "Oh, but Ty, you have fat tires on your mountain bike, don't you?" Funny you should ask... yes, our tires are 2.5 inches wide, good for hard packed dirt, rocks and roots. But in sand they bog down quite a bit. I didn't realize what we were in for until I was gasping for breath and this much younger guy rides by like he's not even sweating. We stopped to chat, and met Lt Col Jim Lovewell, USAF, who is stationed nearby at USNORTHCOM headquarters. Jim just returned from a one year unaccompanied tour in Thule, Greenland. His family stayed here in Colorado Springs for the sake of their children's schooling. Such are the sacrifices of a military career. Anyway, Jim showed us his Fat Boy bike with Really Fat studded tires, 5 inches wide, which roll over sand like there's nuthin' to it. (Yes, that is sand and gravel by his left foot.) By the way, Jim is from San Diego, a Navy town, and I'm sure that his school chums were disappointed when he went over to The Dark Side (the Air Force) instead of going Navy...



Suzanne's first event in Colorado Springs was to give the message at Sunday services for the High Plains Unitarian Universalist Church. She also did a book signing after the service. Many thanks to Annabel Carney for coordinating our visit and to all your members for their warm hospitality. We will be back at 6:00 PM on Wednesday evening, September 24th, when Suzanne will give her Making the Connection presentation.









On Monday we decided to do a local hike at Garden of the Gods. Suzanne had been here with her parents years ago, but it was my first visit. We started hiking and in a mile or two found ourselves overlooking the spectacular red rock "hogbacks" that make this 1,367 acre city park famous. There may be a spiritual vortex here, because you can see the effect it had on my hiking partner.










This rock formation is known as the Siamese Twins. Many Indian tribes have visited here, including the Ute, Comanche, Apache, Kiowa, Shoshone, Pawnee, Cheyenne and Lakota. In 1859, two surveyors explored the area. One, M. S. Beach, suggested that it would be a capital site for a beer garden. His companion, Rufus Cable, was appalled, and said, "Beer garden? It is a place fit for the gods to assemble. We shall call it The Garden of the Gods." Thankfully, Rufus' idea was accepted.







In the 1870s, American poet and author Helen Hunt Jackson wrote of the park, "You wind among rocks of every conceivable and inconceivable shape and size... all bright red, all motionless and silent, with a strange look of having been just stopped and held back in the very climax of some supernatural catastrophe." She loved the Garden of the Gods and Colorado Springs so much that after her death in San Francisco, she was buried in Evergreen Cemetery here.

One of the best things about Colorado Springs was the opportunity to catch up with our wonderful friend GG Moore, the widow of Major General Tom Moore, USAF. GG is one of the most delightful people you will ever meet, and has many fascinating stories about her life as a general's bride. GG attended the Sunday service at High Plains, and invited us to dinner with her at Broadmoor, a five star resort and hotel complex just a mile or so from her lovely home in Colorado Springs.

While at dinner, a couple walked by heading to their table, and GG said, "That's Robert Norris, the original  Marlboro Man." I had to meet him, so I walked over and we chatted for a minute and I got his picture. Bob Norris and his lovely wife Jane own the famous T Cross Ranch here in Colorado. Not only does he look the part of a real western rancher and cowboy, but he still raises championship quarter horses and was director of the American Quarter Horse Association and received the Record Stockmen Livestock "Man of the Year" Award in 1982.

Our dinner at the Broadmoor was fabulous. GG and I both had prime rib - the best I have ever had; Suzanne had the trout, also fantastic. The decor in the Tavern Restaurant was not what I expected... the art work was Toulouse Lautrec, one of my favorite artists, and until a few years ago they were all priceless originals. Common sense and prudence prevailed and high quality prints now hang in their places. GG, thank you for a fabulous evening we will long remember.













Finally, the Laugh of the Week came the other night as we were lying in bed reading, with the puppies between us. (I only wish I had the forethought to keep a camera next to the bed, but MLB may wonder about my intent...) All of a sudden I heard this whoosh, the sound of air escaping from something... and My Lovely Bride began sinking... yes, sinking!  She dropped down a full 10 inches below the level of my side of the bed. Our inflatable king size mattress is actually two singles side by side, so either person can keep the mattress pumped up hard, soft or anywhere in between that he/she wants. Her side had sprung a leak where the air hose connects into the mattress. Further analysis showed that the hose had separated from the fitting on the mattress. I put it back in, but over the next few days it came off several times. I called the company, INNOMAX, which just happened to be in Denver, and on Monday we drove up and Edna and Kelly took care of our problem by replacing the offending mattress free of charge. They suggested that the problem may have been caused by our spending so much time at higher elevations. What service! Now My Lovely Bride can get a good night's sleep without worrying about sinking to the floor. And for all you smarty pants out there, I will remind you that the problem occurred because of air pressure at altitude, not because of, well, you know...