December 2012 Road Trip - Pre-trip Thoughts and Planning.

"...and in the end, it isn't the years in your life that matter, it's the life in your years".  Out of the many, many quotes I love this one has got to be the most profound to me.  Just like my road trips, life is more about the ride than the destination. It's what you do along the way that matters most...the places you see and the people you meet.  As I have aged this quote has taken on a more significant meaning than I ever imagined.  Probably the biggest turning point for me was losing my Dad in 2010.  It was not something I was prepared for.  All the memories of our summer vacations came rushing back.  What I wouldn't give to take one more trip out west with him...eating lunch on top of Capulin Mountian...gazing at the mighty Tetons...sitting around a campfire while the entire universe of stars circled overhead...listening to John Denver as we drove along the wide open spaces of Wyoming...playing those road games to pass the time...him telling me "pull my finger" and knowing darn well what was going to happen next (but I did it anyway to get a good laugh).  I could go on and on.  All of this came crashing down on me with one simple phone call.  My life has never been the same.  By the time he passed away the fire inside me to travel (which had ALWAYS been there) was beginning to rise again.  I had taken several trips before then but that fateful day in April 2010 had turned my inner desire into a raging inferno.  Injecting "life in my years" took on a whole new meaning.  A month after his death I took a road trip and followed the path of the past to get to Colorado (I've posted about this trip previously - see entries from May 2010).  My personal life, however, has taken much longer to get back on track.  Another story for another day.  Fast forward to October 2012.  I knew that I would, as I have done for awhile now, leave town between Christmas and New Years.  One of the perks of my job is that we shut down during this time and that fits in just fine with my desire to travel.  I have recently taken a couple trips to Kentucky and Tennessee, which is unusual for me because my inner compass always points west when I'm planning a trip.  The areas out east are incredible, and I absolutely loved the adventures out there, my heart still aches for places in the west.  I knew I would head that way, but I know to plan and proceed with caution when going that way in the winter.  The weather in and near the mountains can be very unpredictable and dangerous this time of year.  With this in mind I began my search for places I wanted to go.  I knew for sure that I would follow the same route we have taken since our first trip in 1975 (for the first two days anyway).  I've blogged about Hwy 287 previously.  It calls to me like the ghosts call to Zak in Ghost Adventures (one of my favorite shows). During my research I found out there is a ghost town (which I LOVE) just a few miles off this main drag in Texas.  For so many years I've passed near this place and didn't know it existed.  Coincidently, it is near a natural feature in the topography that I always remembered seeing but never did any research on. Visible on the south side of the highway between Chillicothe and Quannah, Texas are 4 natural "mounds" in an otherwise pretty flat landscape.  I was alway curios but I never thought of this highway more than the path to greater things like Capulin Mountain and the Rockies of Colorado.  A quick review of the maps, some research on the town of Medicine Mound, Texas (on the website www.texasescapes.com) and I knew it was going to be a must stop.  Any town that has an abandoned gas station with old rusty pumps immediately goes up high on the list of must-sees.  But I also knew to get there with enough daylight to take pics, I would have to leave VERY early in the morning (traveling in winter to get pictures requires a lot more planning due to short days...ugh...cause I don't really like to plan out my trips that much!).  Every other day of the year I am not a morning person, but when I'm leaving for a trip, my alter ego kicks in.  Anyway, I didn't plan any other stops for day one because I knew it was going to be a very long day of driving. So I looked beyond day one and tried to figure out what to do once I got to Raton, New Mexico.  This city, which is just south of the Colorado border, had become a point where I had to make a decision based on the weather.  Heading north into Colorado requires going over Raton Pass which could close at a moments notice due to snowfall.  Leading up to the trip I had checked webcams at the top of the pass and have seen it completetly covered in snow.  So...wanting to survive this trip and not be found off the highway a month later living off of grass and drinking my own pee, I planned out two routes from Raton...one heading north into Colorado and then back east (on the backroads of course) through Kansas (I REALLY want to go to Dodge City!) and south back into Texas for the ride home.  The other heading south from Raton, cutting a path that would take me from the very north all the way south to the Mexican border (mostly backroads of course), then through El Paso and all of the nearly 900 miles of I-10 that would get me back to the Louisiana border.  Along both routes I had picked a few places to stop and see that I hadn't seen before.  I also chose mostly backroads and tried to stay clear of the interstates as much as possible (although that 900 miles through Texas would have taken me a lot longer on backroads, which I would have LOVED of course but time wouldn't allow this time).  So with plenty of internet time to look at Google Maps and various travel websites associated with Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, and Kansas, the anticipation was driving me nuts!  I'm always ready to leave.  Knowing that I'm heading not only to places familiar, but those gems that I have yet to see, puts a smile on my face and an extra pep in my step.  I have to admit I get giddy sometimes...like Larry the Cable guy in a Bass Pro Shop.  As the day draws near for me to go, I start looking at the maps and do what I always do..."hmmm do I have enough time catch this too?  What if I take this road instead of that one? Should I get Obierto or Jack Links beef jerkey?  Do I have enought Lemonheads?".  In the end, because of this being a winter trip, I decided to pretty much stick to my route plan based on what the weather would hold for me.  This is a bit of a departure for me but I wanted to get the most out of the time I had.  In the last few days I had my camera gear ready and the truck detailed and spotless (which is one of the things I have to do before I go...clean truck and all my stuff neatly placed inside...needless to say neither one of those things stay that way for long).  I'm ready to go...can't hardly sleep the anticipation is like taking a caffiene pill while funneling coffee and a couple six packs of Red Bull.  This man is ready to add that extra life to his years...3:30 am comes early...and I'm READY!!

Game Changer...my hour with a psychic medium

It's easy for people to get wrapped up in what's new on TV and social media.  Planking, Gangnum Style, Where's the Beef, I'm a Pepper She's a Pepper... and on and on.  And what is with Honey Boo Boo?  She sticks around because people tune in...like watching a train wreck...it's just hard NOT to look.  I don't understand what the big draw is with her but hey, it's not for me to judge.  I think back to where all of this "reality" began, and I keep coming back to "Real World" on MTV and perhaps later "Deadliest Catch" on Discovery.  Now, that is pretty much all you can find on TV these days.  Pawn Stars, Swamp People, Gold Rush, Ghost Adventures, Storage Wars, and so many more...and yes our favorite little overweight redneck child Honey Boo Boo.  I have to admit I do watch some of these shows, which I will talk about shortly, but first I have to get on my soapbox.  Seems like National Geographic, TLC, History, and Discovery have shifted programming more towards this instead of why I got those channels in the first place.  But then again, while I'm wishing they would create sub-channels geared towards the influx of "reality" shows and return the main channels back to what they used to be, I'm part of the problem I guess because I do watch some of these shows religiously.  My favorites are Gold Rush, Ghost Adventures, and Long Island medium.  The latter two shows have caught my attention in a way differently from the first.  I've always had an interest in what happens when we die...mostly what happens after...is that just "it" or is there more?  Just the thought that maybe, just maybe, we go on in some way, shape, or form has given me comfort and hope.  False hope maybe?  Am I just clinging to something to help me sleep at night?  And with these shows pumping out episode after episode of "indicents" with people who have passed, my curiosity has grown exponentially.  Ghost Adventures seems a lil crazy and stretched at times....OK a LOT of times, however I can't say as much for Long Island Medium.  Let me get this out there...I know it's just a TV show and I know we can't believe everything we see...otherwise we might truly think there is a fuzzy alien puppet named "Alf" hanging around at a neighbor's house.  But Long Island Medium just has a different feel to it.  I've heard many people say...and I admit I've said it myself...that I would love to either meet her on the street or make an appointment with her.  Either way I'd love to cross her path.  So while the chances of that happening are about as good as me winning the powerball, being struck by lightening, and doing a cartwheel at the same time, I figured I should at least do something.  And I did.

It started with my niece talking to someone and having them hit on some things, but miss on others.  Almost sounds like a waste of time...seems like someone who can manipulate and lead you down a path, or make you divulge tiny bits of information...enough to draw some conclusions, could make you believe they know things about you that you thought they didn't.  After all...we all know that magic isn't real, but professionals can make it appear that way.  Slight of hand, distraction, and manipulation, when done correctly, can lead you down a path of belieiving what you see.  I don't think my niece was manipulated...the things the psychic did hit on were pretty solid.  But she had some communication with a nationally known psychic medium and when we talked about it, I knew then I just had to find out for myself.  I made an appointment, using only my first name, an e-mail address that is not associated with any social media, and a phone number that was not in my name.  I did not have to hold the appointment with a credit card.  I wanted to provide as little info as possible so the ability to try and gather info on me would be all but impossible.  I am an analyst by trade so I'm always questioning information...thinking outside the box...and always asking "but what about this...".  I guess I am somewhat of a skeptic by nature and try not to get "led down a path" by having anyone pull information out of me without my knowledge.  With all that said, I found myself trying to find a place to park in a downtown office building for my appointment when my phone rang.  It was the secretary making sure I was going to make my appointment.  I jokingly said (not to her of course) "ask the psychic she should know".  We got a good chuckle out of it but I have to admit...it was a nervous chuckle.  I was hoping to hear some things that would be enough to validate things for me.  I was hoping for enough to make me believe that something...anything...happens to keep us around after we die.  I was hoping for some answers to unanswered questions.  I was hoping to believe.  And believe I did.
As we sat down she took my hand and closed her eyes.  She came up with sounds of names instead of directly calling them out.  In this regard I was a little disappointed because, as I had seen on TV with the famous Long Island Medium, I was expecting full names.  So right out the gate my skepticism was in full "yeah right" mode.  Then, little by little, things started to change. I had not told her my father had passed away, but she knew.  She began to describe the people who were with him on the other side and she nailed every one of them.  Uncle Jack, cousin Arther, cousin Vera, and a close cousin to my Dad who, as she described, had the most unusual knickname she had ever heard.  A name that no-one who didn't know her could guess and that was in no way part of her name.  She chuckled at the name and knew how she died.  My dad's cousin Vivian...or as we called her..."Aunt Tunie".  She described what things were like in my childhood.  She nailed it.  No way on earth she could have known some of the things she said.  She also talked about how my dad was on the road a lot with his job, his love for travel, and how that translated to my love of travel.  Throughout this process I kept my promise to myself...I said very little and offered up little or no information...only saying things after she said what she was seeing and feeling.  She knew my mom is a quilter...and that my dad told her as much.  She described my mom's situation with her house and her neighbors...and nailed it.  She described things that were going on in my personal life...and nailed it.  She described things going on in my professional life...and nailed that too.  She described things going on with my family and others close to me...nailed it.  Most of the stuff she said to me is stuff that is too personal to talk about here, like my personal situation and the circumstances surrounding my dad's death.  Skepticism was but a distant memory.  She got some of the things I would think of as "generic" right, but she also described intimate details that she could not have known about me.  Even though I'm not going into too much detail I will offer this...should anyone want to discuss this further with me contact me through Facebook and I may elaborate further on a case-by-case basis (depending on how well I know you).  This meeting was a game changer for me.  While she did answer some questions for me, I think I have more unanswered ones now that I am convinced we don't cease to exist once our heart stops beating.  Either way, while I certainly don't want to leave the land of the living anytime soon, I'm not as scared to depart as I had been.  This was actually a HUGE problem for me at times, but that is something else I'm not really ready to discuss right now.  Just know this...I am a believer.

I've purposely kept religion out of this conversation and I won't go into details as to my thoughts on that.  Way too touchy of a subject to talk about and it's getting late anyway...need some beauty sleep...LOTS of beauty sleep.  Again, if anyone wants further information, including the name and contact information of the medium, please send me a private message through my Facebook page. 

So now I enter 2013 with a new attitude towards life.  Even though I'm convinced we are still here even though we may not be "here", I'm not taking things for granted.  I'm actually more enthusiastic about doing things while I am living.  I had a wonderful Christmas with family and friends, and took another spectacular road trip, which I will be describing in detail here very shortly.  For now remember...for every minute you are mad, that is 60 seconds of lost happiness you can never get back.

What is so significant about an empty bench? A lot if you ask me...

We've all been there before…looking for a place to sit and relax for a maybe a few moments, or perhaps maybe longer…in order to simply give our weary feet a rest or make a decision that will chart the course for the rest of our lives. As a guy, I know I've looked for sanctuary after trudging through store after store in the mall behind a female intent on looking at every piece of clothing in every rack, then trying on almost everything and usually buying nothing (no offense to anyone, but ya'll know what I'm talking about even if you don't want to admit it). I know I'm not alone here…I've seen the plight in the faces of my fellow man when subjected to this. No doubt you've seen us, or been a part of us, in the middle of the mall sitting on benches waiting to be told where to go next. "Shopping widows" sometimes strike up conversations about sports and beer, trying to hold our dignity intact knowing full well the boss will be along shortly to pull the leash and make us stop at every store except the ones we want to stop at. If you have ever been on a hike, or long walk, you understand that feeling of relief when you see an empty bench up ahead. Kinda the same feeling I get when the waitress brings me my roast beef sandwich at Bears. There is something to be said about taking a load off your feet when you need it most…and that word is usually "ahhhhh" or "whew". I can't even count the number of times I've been hiking in mountainous areas and been happy at the sight of an empty bench just up ahead. In this case, mostly the goal is to just get some rest, maybe catch a drink of water, and continue on with no other thought than getting to the destination. At that moment though, the normally insignificant bench becomes very important even if it is just for a fleeting moment. Will you remember this particular piece of furniture as you continue your journey? Chances are probably not. I know I can't remember all of the places I stopped on a hike. But there is a flip side to this that I had been thinking about, and it came to me full force today while I was walking on the lakefront. All along the path there are plenty of benches…some obviously old and some fairly new. Some of them have been dedicated as memorials to people who really loved the area or made significant contributions to the park. There were not a lot of people out there today. Perhaps because it was a bit cool and overcast, or maybe people are still trying to sort out all of the beads they caught at the parades. But there have been times where I've seen almost all of them occupied. Someone reading a book…someone taking a quick break from jogging…couples in each other's arms watching their kids play…a pregnant lady having maternity pictures taken…a couple of teenagers playing a flute and clarinet…a young couple obviously having an argument…and so much more. Then, of course, there is me thinking "if this bench could talk". I think like that when I'm out photographing old barns and farmhouses out west. I try to spend as much time as I can just walking around and thinking what things may have taken place there. I think about how at one time this was someone's new house, their pride and joy and the payoff for long days of struggle to put a roof over their heads. These places are filled with memories for people who have lived here. Most people pass by and probably never give these places a second look. I stop and wonder. For those who have lived here, it could be a symbol of great pride or of horrific loss. Good memories…bad memories…things they would love to never forget…or would do anything to forget. Today…looking at the empty benches…I thought about all of the conversations that have taken place in these exact spots and how, for some, they will want to come back to these particular spots to reflect on happy times. Or perhaps someone may go out of their way to avoid it altogether, not wanting to re-hash a very painful time in their lives. Just before getting back in my truck, I stopped at one particular bench that I've frequented for many reasons. I've read books there, rested my weary feet, and also sat and looked out over the lake and thought deeply about the direction my life was headed in. And I thought about all of the others that may have been here. Perhaps, at this exact spot, a young couple shared their first kiss. Perhaps a couple decided to get divorced here. Maybe someone proposed here. Someone may have made a decision to end their life, or perhaps start living sitting on this weathered wood and rusting legs. A young woman may have sat here…scared to death about having her first child and how that will affect the rest of her life. An old couple may have had their last conversation together in this exact spot, looking out over the same brackish water at the Causeway off in the distance. A person may have read a book that changed their lives and went on to pursue a dream. The fact that this bench is right here, in this spot, makes it part of those memories…for had it not been here, any of these significant events would have more than likely taken place somewhere else. This spot may be heaven or hell. The water ebbs and flows, the sky changes, the grass dies in winter and comes back in spring, but the bench stays right here. I wonder how many people come out here and say "I was sitting right here when _____". I know of at least one. I could easily walk around my neighborhood to get my outdoor exercise. But I choose to drive the 10 minutes down to the lake and visit a place that is as much a part of me as any keepsake I've ever had. My recollections are not of the unhappy kind. The discussions I've had with myself here have played a role in my attitude towards a lot of things and the hopes I have of being a better person all the way around. I've sat here for hours sometimes…on occasion with a good book, other times with just my thoughts. The view is relaxing in itself to me. People going about their lives, pelicans diving for a meal, seagulls yapping at each other (no doubt the females haha), and the ever changing sky all merge to make the experience what it is. I'm not going to say which bench is "mine", but if someone sees me there then they will know, and I'm OK with that. I often thought it would be interesting to hear people tell me why one of these spots means something to them, but other times I don't…only because it will take the mystery out of it. I like the thought of wondering and not knowing. The sky is the limit that way. No boundaries.

So the next time you are out and about, take notice of what might be some insignificant place or thing. Imagine why someone might want it to always be a part of their life, or never want to see it again. Is there somewhere or something like this in your life that others may not give a second glance to, but only you know why it means something? If you are walking along the lakefront and the urge strikes you to sit down, it may be the bench guiding you there to not only take a load off your feet, but take a load off your mind. Listen to it. Perhaps then, something may come to mind that may help answer that nagging question, guide your future, or help you decide what color to paint your kitchen. Just watch out for those nagging seagulls…if they are flying above you don't look up with your mouth open for they may just give you a present you don't want to receive.

Gone with the wind...

For those of you who know me, you know how picky I am when it comes to food. The running joke used to be that my blood type is "Ragu". So you might find this hard to believe…or maybe not, but there was a time when I would not eat breakfast from any fast food place. I remember being on vacation and we would get on the road bright and early and go to McDonald's. Everyone is getting Egg McMuffins, sausage biscuits, hash browns…and for me…a vanilla shake. I love french fries. Why for the life of me I would not eat hash browns is beyond me. And I love bread. Why for the life of me I would not eat biscuits, from anywhere, is beyond me too. Talk about difficult! So when I woke up this past Saturday morning and decided, within 5 minutes of opening my eyes, that I was going to grab the cameras and hit the road the first thing I did when I got in the car was head to McDonald's for breakfast. Somewhere, sometime…can't exactly remember when it happened, I started eating hash browns and biscuits from the fast food places. Now it's a ritual whenever I hit the road for a day of shooting. Map, GPS, cameras, 2 hash browns, plain biscuit, large sweet tea, and my favorite underwear. So if jeans with holes are cool, then my underwear is the BOMB baby! Yeah yeah I know what you are thinking…a couple hash browns sounds delicious right about now. After filling up on some cholesterol and refilling my saaweeeet tea, I sat in the car and took out the map. Hmmm, where should I go today. I love this moment. The anticipation of knowing I'm about to go somewhere…anywhere…gives me a rush. That, and a whole bag of Sour Skittles in one gulp kinda does the same thing. It's a windows down, sunroof open, music blaring kind of day. So I unfolded the big state map and look for those skinny roads. I start to form a plan…I'll head towards St. Francisville. Not in a straight line I'll have you know, not by any means. A short stint down the interstate then its off to some side roads. West, then north then west, then south, then west…rinse and repeat. I chose to go there to stop by Grace Episcopal Church again. The grounds surrounding the church are stunning. It is surrounded by ornate old iron fencing and framed by dozens of large oak trees. It also has a unique feature that I haven't really seen with other churches. Most of them have some type of graveyard close by, maybe located on a lot next to the grounds. But in this case, the cemetery surrounds the building on all four sides. Mix some old, beautiful weathered statues, crumbling bricks, sculptures, metal crosses, headstones dating back to the 1830s, oak trees, moss, and a Greek revival architectural gem of a church and you have plenty to keep your eyes busy for awhile. It's even creepy, in a cool sort of way. Not a place I'd like to find myself alone at night. So, I started making my way there. I exited I-55 on to Highway 442 and started west. I had my route figured out and kept running over the highway numbers in my head. Then, a RARE mistake. While I may make last minute decisions at intersections on which way I choose to go sometimes, this time I turned down a road I didn't plan on and found myself back down on hwy 190. I was a little miffed, but then again I'm just following the wind…so I go with the flow. Turns out, this mistake paid off! I was heading back to where I wanted to be and I caught a glimpse of 2 old gas pumps in the weeds on side the road. Then I noticed an old building behind them. Eureka! This is what I live for! The main reason I take so many backroads when I'm traveling is to find things like this. I immediately look for a place to turn around and head back. Just up the road I see a place I can hang a u. And what do I see walking towards me? A dog. He is just walking up what little shoulder there is on the road…right towards me…and in the direction I'm about to head to go back to the old gas station. Now, if you don't know the significance of why I mention this, you have to go back to some of my older posts. I have not had good look stopping at old places like this without having some Tasmanian Devil of a dog politely run me off. Just my luck, I'm in the middle of nowhere and a stray appears. So I concentrate on the task at hand, hang a u, and head back to the old relic. I pulled up, grabbed my gear, looked over my shoulder for a possible sneak attack from Cujo, and I see he has hung a u himself and headed in the opposite direction. I have a sigh of relief, then a quick thought. Maybe he turned around because something bigger and badder than him wants a piece of me. And maybe this creature is hiding just inside the abandoned building and he's hungry. Well, I'm not deterred, and anyway my camera doubles as a weapon should things resort to that. So I look around and bit and start taking pics. This place is so cool! The gas pumps are not super old, probably from the 60's or 70's but I can tell the building is much older. I can see things inside through the broken windows. Of course I have to go look in, and of course I'm getting myself prepared for a cat, dog, raccoon, or a circus clown to jump out and scare the bejeesus out me. But still, no threat of an alcoholic circus clown is going to stop me from checking this place out. I walked up and peeked inside. No clowns or animals, just some old chairs, clothes, and a general appearance of a place that has not seen customers in many years. I can see the old sign on the building and it reads "Carver's 4 way grocery". And another sign says "cold beer". Unfortunately, this was false advertising as there was not a cold beer anywhere to be found. So I did my usual thing when I'm in the woods…marked my territory, then headed down the road. I passed my little furry friend again and he was in exactly the same spot I saw him when I turned around. Then it hit me…he was just out getting some exercise running up and down the highway. I think he had an iPod and a sweatband on. After cruising on a bit, I came to the cute little town of Clinton, La. I've passed through here may times and have always said to myself that I needed to stop and take some pictures of the old courthouse. The last few times through the place was surrounded by scaffolding as it was being refurbished. This time, it was just surrounded by cops sitting in their cars. In any case, I stopped and took a few pics. The marker states it was built in 1840 and is one of the oldest operating courthouses in the state. I spent a few minutes firing off a few shots then headed back down towards St. Francisville. Along Hwy 10 I had a spot marked on my GPS where the road crossed over some old abandoned railroad tracks. I had stopped here once before but didn't take pics. It was kinda neat, the old rusty tracks, weathered ties, and weeds all over in between the tracks being a telltale sign that no train has passed this way in a long time. So I decide today I'm going to stop and get a few "artistic" shots. But, to my surprise, all I found this time was a dirt road where the tracks used to be. They had been pulled up since the last time I was here. Oh well, my own loss. I should have taken the opportunity on one of the last 271 times I passed this way. Can't stop progress. I made it to St. Francisville and headed straight for the church. I pulled in the parking lot and I realized I had the place all to myself. I grabbed the gear and walked through the beautiful iron gates. While it was an absolutely beautiful day, it wasn't exactly the best day for taking pictures in a setting like this. With the bright sunshine and huge trees with vast expanses of branches, it creates an exposure nightmare because of the bright light and harsh shadows contrasting each other. An overcast day is actually the best bet here…naturally diffused, even lighting makes a photog happy. I knew this coming in and my main reason for visiting was to just spend time walking the grounds and reflecting on life in general, not necessarily to take pictures. This place is beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. Of course I would not have left the car without the camera and I wound up taking some pics anyway. It was nice to just slow down, walk around, not be on a time schedule, and clear the mind. After spending about 45 minutes walking the grounds I figured I had enough time to drive around more before heading back to 3 loads of laundry waiting for me back home. I knew they had recently built a brand new bridge over the Mississippi River near here so I decided to head just south of St. Francisville to go over it. It replaced an old ferry which, when the water in the river was high, it would not be running. The only other options would be to drive to Baton Rouge or Natchez to cross. Quite a hike either way. I made my way to the new bridge and hopped across. It sure is a purty one. Named the "Audubon Bridge" it bears the distinction of being Hwy 10, which had not run this way. Kinda reminded me how Route 66 had been re-aligned dozens and dozens of times over the years. It truly is not just one single highway running from Chicago to L.A. There are many different segments, and even one place in Albuquerque where it crosses itself…one older alignment passing perpendicular to a later designated route. After crossing I immediately picked up the River Road and head north. I was now charting new territory for me. I had driven River Road on the eastern side from Greenville, Mississippi down to New Orleans in the past, but I hadn't been on the western portion in this part of the state. It was well worth the trip. I noted many old places to come back to in the summer when the sun is in the northern hemisphere. The light from the winter sun just doesn't hit right where it needs to on these places. Not like I need a reason to go back, but now I truly have one. Heading north I get into some wetlands areas and see some deer and bald eagles flying around. Looks like there are some recreational areas to come back and visit. Duly marked. Have I mentioned this is an awesome drive? After awhile the sun is starting to fade and the golden light and long shadows start to appear. This happens just as I'm driving into Vidalia, La. I remember from a previous trip that there is a park along the riverfront that allows access to the waterfront so, why not right? I crossed the levee and stopped to take some pics of the twin bridges crossing the mighty Mississippi. I was always amazed that the Louisiana side is so flat, and to cross the river the bridges go up an incline like "normal". Yet on the Mississippi, it is hilly and there are bluffs along the river. On that side you actually have to go downhill to get to the bridges. When approaching them from the Natchez side, the bridges are below you. Kinda cool. Anyway when I got out the car (by this time I had rolled the windows up) I had no idea how freakin cold it was outside! Luckily I had a jacket and promptly covered up. I walked up and down, took some cool shots of the bridges and even one of myself which I NEVER do…and still not sure why I did. I stayed a little while and watched as the shadows grew longer and the "golden hour" of light cast its glow on everything. I love that time of day. I headed back across the big muddy and pulled into Natchez. At this point it was too late to take some pics around town. This place is chock full of photo opportunities. At one time, this town had more millionaires per capita than anywhere else in the country. The plantation owners lived here, while having cotton fields just across the river in Louisiana. I highly recommend spending some time visiting Natchez. It is a beautiful place with many grand historic homes. As I jump on Hwy 61 and start heading south towards home, I'm rewarding with an absolutely gorgeous sunset. The golden horizon gave way to a million shades of blue as one looks up towards the heavens. Couldn't have capped off the day any better…except maybe if I had a deep dish pepperoni lovers pizza from Pizza Hut. I think that would have taken it up a notch. So after 12 hours on the road, almost 500 miles driven, about 100 pictures, 4 chicken tenders and 3 iced teas later, I made it back to the old homestead…satisfied and thankful for such a wonderful day. To me, these adventures are crucial for my sanity. Some people need a Hubig's Pie and reruns of Good Times to make them happy. Me, all I need is a good map, 4 wheels, a camera, time, beef jerky, and some tunes and Clay is a happy boy. Get off the interstate once in awhile whydontcha!

I recently finished reading the book "No Life For A Lady" by Agnes Morely Cleaveland. It is a fantastic description of how life was growing up in the late 1800's/early 1900's in southwest New Mexico. Makes you appreciate the things we take for granted every day. I highly recommend it for anyone who has any interest in the old west. Get off Facebook for awhile and read a real book whydontcha!

It's no wonder that the Teton Range in Wyoming is the most photographed mountain range in the world. Trying to describe the beauty of this place is like trying to describe to someone what a grape tastes like. I've never eaten a grape, so do you think you can adequately describe it to me so that, without a doubt, I could fully understand the experience? I'm not talking about the texture or look…but the actual taste. My guess is probably not. That is how I feel when talking about my pics of the Tetons to people who have never been there. Perhaps making it even more difficult is trying to convey a sense of presence as well, not just "look at the beautiful mountains". A single photograph has the ability to stir up the deepest emotions to those who have some history behind it. Take for instance if you were to show me a picture of your grandmother. I may say "she looks great" or "I bet she is a sweet lady" or "why is she wearing a Falcon's hat". But when you look at it, you not only see her, you smell a roast on the stove, you can taste her sweet iced tea, you can hear her voice saying " if you think you are in trouble now just wait until your daddy gets here", you can feel a big sweet hug, or feel her pulling you by your ear and putting your bad butt in the corner. An analyst may say when you see a picture of a place you have never been, or a person you do not know, you are only experiencing 1/5, or 20% of your senses…that being the sense of sight for those of you who may be falling behind. When a photograph means something to you, all of your senses come alive. That is how I feel when I see pictures of the Tetons. I can feel the cool mountain air, hear the wind blowing through the trees and the sounds of a shallow river making its way across the valley, and taste the fries my mom would always cook for me on the old Coleman stove outside in the campground. French fries surely do have a different taste to them when you are sitting outside watching a sunset over the mountains…as opposed to sitting at home alone listening to the traffic go down Harrison Ave.

I have so many fond memories having been there for the first time when I was 6 or 7 years old, and the latest time in the summer of 2011. We would usually stay just outside the park at a KOA campground near Dubois for a night so we could get up early the next morning and grab a spot in Signal Mountain campground. I remember walking around the campground in the evening as people were just starting to light campfires and the smell of the many different dinners being cooked hovered in the air like a fog. The light and shadows on the surrounding mountains were in a state of constant change as the sun set beyond yet more mountains west of us. I can feel that cool evening air and smell the country cooking as I'm typing this…and I'm smiling a mile wide…and hungry. Just as I had described in an earlier post about the anticipation of seeing Capulin Mountain in New Mexico, I remember the same excitement the next morning when we could finally start to see the towering peaks of the Teton Range coming into view. And one word always comes to mind when I see them for the first time each trip; "majestic". What makes these mountains so much different than others is the fact that there are no foothills on the eastern side (which is the direction we approached from). They jut straight up out the ground to a peak elevation of over 13,700 feet. Seeing them from the "other side", which is to say from the Idaho side looking east to them, they look completely different. It's hard to believe they are the same mountain range.

My childhood memories from the Tetons all pretty much run together. From that first trip up until when I quit going with my parents when I was a teenager (my first trip back as an adult was 2008 and I was…um…OK I was 39) I can't really distinguish one trip from another. I remember being there with cousins and friends running all over the campground, and especially heading down to the lake. The campground, most of the time, was wooded pretty well so although you could see glimpses of the mountains from most of the grounds, we had to be at the lake to see them in all of their glory. But running towards the lake the woods would thin out as the shore drew closer…then the REAL fun began. For you see, to get to the lake we had to slide down an embankment of…oh let's say about 20-30 feet. Some places were sloped at an angle which was flat enough to almost walk down without assistance, but us kids wanted no part of that. We would find the steepest decline and slide down the sand and gravel until we got to the kazillion small rocks and boulders that lined the shore. The lake levels rise and fall dramatically depending on how much water is allowed to flow through a nearby dam, thereby creating a "playground" for us kids. We would literally spend hours between going up and down the slope, skipping rocks across the lake, and trying to build a rock bridge to the other side. Of course we only piled enough rocks to get about 3 feet into the lake. It had quite a drop-off from there so as what happened year after year, we gave up quickly and went back to climbing up and down the embankment. Oh, and the backdrop for all of this was the Teton range just across Jackson Lake. Stunning. At some point late in the day, us kids and the 10 pounds of dirt on us, and in our pockets, would make our way back to the campsites to go take showers and eat dinner. Then, as the sun was fading behind the mountains we would grab our blankets make our way down to the ranger talk at the amphitheater. We knew the time was drawing near for the show when they started playing music over the loudspeakers. And that is when my family first heard John Denver. He immediately became a staple for my family and still is to this day. We had all his albums and began a tradition of listening to his music when we traveled (as well as all the time at home). We saw him in concert many times, including a spectacular acoustic show at the Saenger Theater. I listen to him often, and just as I go back when I see pictures of the Tetons, the same thing comes over me when I hear his songs. My three absolute favorite songs of ALL TIME are his. In no particular order they are "Windsong", "Eclipse", and "Annie's Song". Anyway, back to the amphitheater. Each night a ranger would give a presentation on a subject related to the area. One night it may be about the wildflowers, in the area, the next it may be about the animals that inhabit the park, and the next about how one day I would become a great photographer known around the world. I know you don't believe that…but there are plenty of beautiful wildflowers up there even though it gets very cold in the winter, I promise. When my mom and I were there this past summer (while staying in a cabin right next to the campground) we walked over to the amphitheater to catch a show. It looked EXACTLY the same way as I remember as a kid. It's not real big…probably seats about 50 people on metal bleacher-type seats and there is always a campfire burning off to the side. This night we were treated to the story about the re-introduction of the wolves in Yellowstone, their habits, territories, and how they changed the ecology of the area. It was very interesting!

Well at this point, I'm going to take a break. Time for me to eat another orange juice freezie. Brings a smile to my face every time. In the next entry I'll talk more about my experiences in the Tetons…and how it felt to go with my mom and some cousins there…for the first time since my Dad passed away. I'm very sentimental so this was both a tough, and rewarding trip for me. In the mean time, I've posted some links to Grand Teton National Park below, including my picture gallery from my website. Maybe while I'm digging a fork into a red plastic cup of orange juice sweetness, you can take some time to look at some pictures that mean something to you and think about how they make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside…unless that feeling is that you have to pee. In that case, don't forget to flush.

My pictures from the park

www.nps.gov/grte/index.htm

www.legendsofamerica.com/wy-grandteton.html

http://www.grand.teton.national-park.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Teton_National_Park

Greetings from the "Ghost Road"

So after spending a great weekend at my buddy Jay's house in Conroe, Texas, I decided to take a little "side trip" on my way home. I try to do this type of thing as often as possible when time permits. I always keep a big fold-out state map with me for wherever I happen to be traveling for just this reason. Not sure if anyone really uses these things anymore, but they are worth their weight in gold to me. I'm like a kid in a candy store when faced with the opportunity to explore new backroads! The "skinnier" the line on the map, the more interested I am. In addition, usually the more rural the road, the more digits in its designation. So if I see highway 1416 on a map (which is one of the highways I took on this trip) I go for it. They are usually much more scenic than say….I-10. I try to stay away from Interstates when I travel as they usually don't have the type of scenery you can find on a windy stretch of backroad. Plus life moves way too fast. There is one exception though; the stretch of I-70 from the Colorado/Utah state line to Denver. It's like driving through a postcard and is absolutely beautiful. Getting back on track here, before I left Jay's driveway I studied the map and picked out some good looking roads that had me zig-zagging north, to east, to south, to east, to north, etc. Looks like I was plotting a way to lose the cops. Of course, I always keep an open mind when I get to intersections. Do I really feel like going straight…or maybe I should go left…sometimes I just pull over to the side of the road and decide from there. And I LOVE every minute of it. If I had a nickel for every time I've done that I could have one hell of a collection of Pez dispensers. The weather didn't totally cooperate for me to take pics along the way, but I thoroughly enjoyed cruising down the hilly backroads, passing everything from big beautiful farms to abandoned businesses in small towns, to "ghost farms", to old cars, to some 9 year old kids who looked like they were gonna throw their beer bottles at me. Yeah, I come across some characters when I'm out in the country. So one of my "on the spot" decisions had me heading southeast on Highway 787 out of Rye, Texas when out of the corner of my eye on the left side I caught a glimpse of a blue sign. As I passed I looked in my review mirror and thought to myself " what the hell is a "evirD cinecS daoR tsohG". Then I remembered I was looking at it in the mirror and had to translate. It said "Ghost Road Scenic Drive". I IMMEDIATELY found a place to turn around and go check it out. The sign describing the details was in rough shape, so I wasn't able to get a whole lot out of it, but I read about its past when I got home (link provided below). What is crazy is a few months ago I had come across this when surfing the web but didn't really pay to much attention to it. And whadda ya know…I "stumbled" upon it by pure luck of the draw. Or was I being "pulled" there by some unknown presence. Maybe a spirit looking for a ride? Didn't matter to me how I got there, I was THERE. And no way in hell I was gonna leave without exploring…unless of course a resident spirit would have made itself known then, well, I would have left screaming like a child and would have stopped to change my underwear later. In a nutshell, this is an 8 mile, straight as an arrow, dirt road that used to be a rail line. There are some legends surrounding its history, one of them being that it is haunted by a brakeman who lost his head in a railroad accident…and there are many stories of the "spook light" that makes an appearance at night…and that this light is said brakeman with a lantern looking for his head. If you search for "Bragg Road Ghost Light" on Google or YouTube you can see "actual" photos and videos, as well as numerous stories of those who have seen it. I had read a little about the light when I came across the information months ago so I wasn't totally oblivious to what this was about. I watch Ghost Adventures and I'm somewhat of a skeptic, although not closed minded about the paranormal stuff. So while I knew I was taking a chance of perhaps seeing something by taking this drive, I absolutely had to do it. None of the stories I've read ever has any activity taking place in daylight, although I'm sure if I searched more I could probably find something. One kinda crazy thing did happen though. I took my phone out to take a picture of the sign and road to upload to Facebook. I opened up my camera app and held the phone up, framed the picture, went to hit the button to snap it…and the phone shut off completely. No warning, no "powering down". Just kaput. So then I got a little nervous. Was this a warning from Mr. headless brakeman? So the phone fired back up and I took a pic and uploaded to Facebook. I took a few snaps with the camera, got in the truck and started driving. Every so often there were signs that people had been camping back there as well as some hunting trailers. There were also some pullouts with information, but those were in bad shape too and barely readable. I stopped every so often to take some pics…and I was kinda hoping I'd find something in them that I didn't see. But to no avail. It is a dirt and gravel road that I would not drive down after a big rain unless I had a 4x4. I drove the 8 miles where the other end of the road intersects another highway, then turned around and drove back down it the other way. When I got to the other end, I was kinda disappointed that I didn't see anything paranormal…although you can bet if I had I would have completely freaked. Some of the stories I've read since I got home have told tales of cars shutting off and having trouble starting again when the light is around. Let me tell you…had this happened to me…I would have ran, full sprint with soiled pants, all the way back to Abita and called a freakin tow truck. I'd have instructed them to bring that possessed truck right to the nearest river and dump it in. Well, after leaving there I drove up and down some more roads till I finally got back to the interstate just before dark for the last leg of the drive home. Even though I didn't get too many picture opportunities, the drive itself was very satisfying…unlike that BCS championship game. That was much scarier than anything I saw on the Ghost Road.

The road is about 50 miles northwest of Beaumont, Texas along Hwy 787 between Saratoga and Rye, Texas.

I've found that the road goes by a few different names; Hardin County Ghost Road, Bragg Ghost Road, etc. But if you Google either one of those names you will get the same information. Here is a link to information and pictures on the Texas Escapes website: http://www.texasescapes.com/DEPARTMENTS/Guest_Columnists/East_Texas_all_things_historical/GhostRoad1BB901.htm

At the bottom of the page there are a few other links to more information within the site.

The Texas Escapes website itself has extensive information for anyone who wants to see interesting things, including ghost towns, in Texas.

There are other places where "spook lights" are known to exist. They are the Marfa lights in Texas and the Joplin spook lights near Joplin, Missouri. Google those too if you want to get some info.

Well that's all for now. I hope you enjoyed my lil adventure, and I also hope you GET OUT THERE AND EXPLORE!

The only constant is change...

…or so "they" say. Some additional things "they" say: "One step at a time"…"baby steps"…"you have to walk before you run"…"you eat an elephant one bite at a time"…"your shnitzel is in my karfegnoggin". 2012 promises to be perhaps the most dynamic year in a long time. I could see it coming a mile away (something else "they" say). So what am I doing about it? See what "they" say above. There are some things beyond my control on the horizon, but also some things I'm taking control of. Ever since I had given up carbonated drinks for lent last year, I've progressively - up until New Year's Day anyway - drank more and more of them up to the point where I felt like I was carrying a brick in my stomach. I knew it was causing me to gain weight too, but I was truly addicted to Diet Coke to some extent, but Coke Zero was my crutch. Some days I know I had 8-10 cans. Sometimes days would go by without me drinking any water at all. With all of the upcoming events this year, I was hesitant to try and remove myself from the world of carbonated drinks. But after feeling more and more like I was carrying an aquarium full of water, and some of those colorful rocks and a palm tree or two in my stomach, I decided to pull the trigger on quitting. So I had my last Diet Coke around 7pm New Year's Eve night on my way to a friend's house to ring in the new year. It has not been easy keeping this resolution, especially when I'm driving around with my camera taking pics. I think I know how people feel when they have to have a cigarette in certain situations. I've never smoked but the urge to have an ice cold Coke really eats at me sometimes. But here I am, 1 day after my birthday, still going strong and making myself do this. I've been drinking lots of water and something else that I might find myself having to give up for next year's resolution….McDonald's sweet tea. Man that stuff is good! I can just see me laying in a gutter one day with 20 empty large cups and Popeye's biscuits scattered all over the ground around me and I'm screaming "don't touch my babies" while the people with a straight-jacket take me to meet some "nice people who care" about me. I have to stay away from Popeye's too. Those biscuits are like little pieces of heaven. Oh and I've noticed some weight beginning to drop off…not much but it's a start!

So with that resolution hitting on all 8 cylinders, and my determination to keep it going, I've given myself another self-imposed task; to be a better person from top to bottom. This can be tricky, and also is hard to measure. How do you tell if you are a better person or not? When people stop cursing you out for putting all the DVD's from the $5 bin at Walmart in their baskets? When people answer "a much nicer person than before" to the question "what the hell are you looking at?" when I'm in the frozen food section at Winn Dixie? When I quit scaring the bejeesus out of little kids on Halloween because it makes me laugh? Anyway…hindsight is always 20/20 and I look back sometimes and see so many situations where I could have done a better job being "me". I'm a happier person when I can contribute to the happiness to others around me. Some people are happier when they dress like a sheep-herder and dance around to the song "Safety Dance". To each his own I guess. I have some plans on how to tackle this, but I'm going to just keep them to myself and see what works and what doesn't. I have some ideas. Only time will tell. I'll get into the other changes, some major, coming up soon in another blog entry.

One last thing I've decided; that is to quit trying to pursue doing photography for a living. I absolutely LOVE taking pictures…and that is EXACTLY why I will maintain it as a hobby. I do not want it to become something that I have to do to survive, but something that I want to do. While it may not make a whole lot of sense to everyone, it makes perfect sense to me. I believe if I had to depend on it to eat at night and pay my bills, I would eventually lose my love for it and maybe even resent it. I can't, and won't do that. I feel less stress just saying that, because for a long time I wanted nothing other than to have my hobby as my career. What also relieves stress for me…orange juice freezies. I'll buy a half gallon and fill up 4 of those red plastic cups and put them in the freezer…and check on them every 10 minutes waiting for them to freeze up. YUM!

More to come soon! Another resolution…blog entries more than once a year or so…we'll see how THAT goes.

If you want to get a good insight into the history of the Oregon and California trails, as well as the geology of the land in which the pioneers crossed, read the book "Hard Road West; History and Geology along the Gold Rush Trail" by Keith Heyer Meldahl. I had no idea how hard it was on these families who packed everything and went west in search of the American dream. It will certainly make you appreciate what you have, no matter how much or how little. On a GOOD day they would move the same distance as we can in 15 minutes on the interstate…unless you get stuck behind the old couple in a 1989 Chevy Lumina with a missing hubcap and those nasty yellow headlights. Very informative and a great read.