ACROSS THE UNIVERSE

Internet connections have been sporadic, that's a good thing. Seeing the wonders of the west have been thrilling, to say the least. We have yet to experience temps above 70 degrees! Nights have been brisk and the warmth of our sleeping bags have been very welcoming. We have eaten only one meal not made campside and/or some scenic overlook as we passed through four states. I love cooking on an open fire. Our tiny little stove provides instant( almost) boiling abilities., so, clean-up for WFS is a snap. "How," he asks, " can you cook like this making barely a mess, but, blow up half the state of KY when you cook in your home kitchen?" I have no explanation. None. We've had utterly delicious fare, buying our supplies at local farmer's markets and the best organic store, ever, in Trinidad, CA. Situated conveniently five miles from our most amazing high perch over the Pacific.
After following the Trinity River as it winds through the mountains of California, we reached the best National or State Park we've ever stayed in. Ever. The views were stunning. The hikes, treacherous and breathtaking. The beach, tranquil. I think we might have stayed a month, but, the coast of Oregon was just up the way, so.......
I might have mentioned I love the thought of no sales tax and no pumping gas, and views that never end. However, the best thing in Oregon is: coffee on every corner! Espresso, Latte, hot, dark and oh, so good to sip just before you step out into the ocean breeze, that for a southern girl, is downright cold!
Portland and Cathy tomorrow....Ann, Linda, Katherine and spouses. Doesn't get much better than this.

A DAY AND NIGHT IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA

Leaving Pyramid Lake, we headed into California. WFS had ripped out( before we left) CA and OR from our old atlas. I, the NAGivator, consulted the old fashion road map. No GPS, no iPad , no nothing, just the roadmap in my lap. A fuzzy old friend. We decided to go through Plumas and the Sierra Nevada range to Lassen Volcanic National Park. We found an irresistible little ice cream and burger stand, The Polka Dot, nestled by a creek. I love old signs and milkshakes. !bingo! Fueled for the day, we ambled toward the imposing peak of Lassen. 10,457. Cold too! The road was closed about two thirds of the way up,so, we drove the road as far and high as we could. 'tWas amazing. We scurried down Lassen and headed toward a higher peak, Mt Shasta, 14,162.
While talking with Jaxon on the phone about Lassen and Shasta, he asked the last time it erupted. 1921(Lassen), and the time before that, he asked.... Don't know, said I,to which he replied, if you get that information, I can tell you when it will blow again and you'll have time to get out of there!
Nothing blew, so we camped on the deep forest floor with bear roaming about. We didn't SEE a single bear but they do poop in the woods. I swear.
We could see Castle Crag and Mt Shasta from the vista near camp. Plus, the divine Sacramento Riverr rapids were a mere mile and a half away by the bear trail.
We had a coin toss, head for Crater Lake or Redwoods National Park and the sea~ we cheated a little. The Pacific was singing a compelling song. Camping by the sea tonight.

PAUITE, PYRAMID LAKE

Shore birds and water gently lapping brought my senses to alert in pre-dawn light. From deep inside my warm cocoon I could sense the morning light. I missed the starry skies, time changes and two days of extreme travel left me road weary. After our dinner, a walk and clean-up, I got my reading light, book and magic pillow and crawled into the tent.
Winds are fierce around Pyramid Lake, it is very lunar and desolate. The ranger advised us to camp on Windless Beach. A slightly protected cove, that loosely meant one could stake down the tent and not be
blown away. She said the winds would die down in the night but roar in like a tornado in the early morning. The winds did roar,
but, our little tent did not quiver. Yeah Mountain Hardgear! The azure water against the granite mountains are a brilliant contrast. The stillness juxtaposed with lashing winds were the very essence of primal. This lovely lovely country speaks to my soul. This crazy nomadic travel isn't for everyone.... But, for WFS & me, it is paradise.
These two seasoned travelers forgot to buy camp stove fuel, so, we made a beeline to Reno REI! California, here we come!

The Great Salt Lake

Comparing our plane flight to the misery of the Mormons struggling with lunacy and adversity, makes whining about air travel rather trivial... But, when you are our age, and must run at full gallop across the Denver terminal and are asked to pay! Yes, pay! For peanuts, m&m's... You either laugh( we did) or curse the airline industry( we did). We touched down in Salt Lake City 7:45 local time. Rental car agency had a small compact instead of Tahoe, gas guzzling camping SUV we had reserved. This was all sorted out by 11:00p local time. Early morning for the KY immigrants. We pitched our tent on a grassy, rose laden spot with snowy mountains and clear, cool night air enveloping our weary souls. Sleep came quickly.
Morning brought bright blue skies and a great coffee shop. We found Whole Foods, State Liquor and ice... We have provisions galore. We drove west to the Bonneville Salt Flats. A sight to behold! We'll be in far western Nevada on the Pauite Indian Reservation tonight. Pyramid Lake. I suspect we'll be cold, cold tonight. We have chili for dinner and a bottle of wine and each other. Guess that will be enough.

Taste of Derby

When the Kentucky Derby Festival added the Taste of Derby to the festivities the already unique line-up of steamboat races and waiter races, we really hit the superfecta. What took so long to come up with this concept? We've got a starting gate full of America's elite in the small city of Louisville that holds its own in cuisine with all other cities, so why not showcase our love and understanding of all things culinary?



When I heard who all was coming to the Taste of Derby I knew this would be an event that I could not miss. As I pulled up to the parking lot, by-passing the red carpet valet line, I started to feel the excitement in the air. The Mellwood Arts Center was a perfect venue for the event, and as I walked in to where most of the revelry was taking place, there were house appetizers like a cucumber slice with a pocket shaved out and filled with barbecued bison. what an inventive bight that set the tone for the upcoming tastes. Flowing deeper into the event I was given a nice piece of glass stemware from the vineyard in Chile that was sponsoring the event. What else to do except fill it with some chardonnay to arouse the taste buds. My dad is friends with Michelle Bernstein and since she was the biggest star chef there, I went straight to her booth. We chatted for a few minutes about Miami cuisine and the restaurant business, as she is the authority on that subject. What an extremely nice person to be given such a successful run. The way the event was set up was: Give 12-15 regional and national chefs a large booth to hand out one or two bight dishes to the glamorous crowd as they promote their restaurant and the progression of food in general. Each booth had an LCD flatscreen flashing between the chef on display, and the dish they were preparing. Michelle had a medium sized gulf coast shrimp, de-veined and relief cut to make it lay flat, with heat provided by a mexican pepper and garnished with three pieces of a semi-sweet popcorn; popcorn shrimp reborn. My first taste of Michelle's culinary creation solidified my pre-conceived notion of her talent. The shrimp were excellent.



As we rounded the corner, we came to the New York City representation, Tribeca Grill of the Myriad Group was handing out their dishes with smiles and hearty welcomes. The Commanders' Palace was in the courtyard handing out turtle soup and Ouita Michel of Kentucky's own Holly Hill Inn was producing a burgoo ensemble. Anthony Lamas of Seviche had prepared a seviche bight on a wooden spoon and was very fresh. Sullivan University had a station in the courtyard that was a run-off between two students to receive tickets to the derby. Both were very good dishes, especially the cornbread and brisket. Chef Allen Akmon does wonders with this university and his students all have great things to say about him. I did not have any bights that I did not like and as I was leaving to meet friends at Fourth Street for the Luke Bryan concert I was very glad I decided to attend the first annual Taste of Derby and vowed next year to make it the main event instead of a precursor on the night.

Cumberland Island

Perhaps it was the sun filtering through the live oaks. The dappled, dancing shadows on the dusty, sandy roads. Perhaps it was the stillness of noon, barely a sound in the thick woods. Perhaps it was the smell of a fire, burning the last remnants of winter's scorn. Perhaps and most significantly, it was the puttering sound of a small tractor that made me think of home. All the memories of my childhood ricochet around me. On this remote island, amongst the ruins of a sophisticated, wealthy world, I paused, prodding myself to look deeply into my imagination. Did a little girl live in that huge house? Did she pretend she was a wild and free Indian princess riding bareback to the sea? As I walked through the ruins, the wild horses wandered in to take fresh water collected in a pool on the south side of the ruins beneath a small flowering tree. .My reverie was interrupted by a gaggle of women on a guided tour. Time to go deeper in the hammock toward the cemetery, slave quaters, barns and the 1 and 1/2 mile beach trail. My imagination switches, I now feel like Lawrence of Arabia, crossing the dunes in blazing sunlight. We marched through perfect white sand dunes for almost a mile. The sea, from the dunes, was exhilarating, magical, glorious. We both made a mad dash to cool our hot feet in the cool surf. We did not see another soul until we returned to Greyfield Inn for a glass of sweet tea, sitting on the veranda, relaxing on the porch swing.
After a five mile bike ride, a four mile walk and a picnic by the sea, this seemed like the perfect ending to a manificent day on Cumberland Island.

Sunny Sunday

Yawn. Stretch. WFS brings my coffee to my sea watching spot. We both stare into the sparkling sun dancing on the low tide until WFS's belly began to growl. Our Sunday brunch was bagels, lox and cream cheese. Traveling in a vintage airstream garners lots of attention. Fellow campers wander in, how long you had it? Where did you get it? Are you from New Mexico?(front bumper) Are you from KY?( back bumper)... Then, where you been? Where you going? Time drifts away. I am eager to walk to the lighthouse, which can only be reached from the beach in lowtide.. The lighthouse is about a 3/4 mile trek along the shore. I repeat, only in lowtide. We have to get moving.
This very wild beach is Gullah country and for the most part, has been left to the natural wildness of the sea. Other than bird and turtle hatching protected areas, the park service isn't intrusive, at all. Several warnings say: Give alligators a wide berth. Thus, stick to the sea! We made it out to the lighthouse along the shore, climbed the 238 steps up
to the catwalk for a stunning view of the Atlantic Ocean, Harbor River and Fripp Island. The day was bright and sunny with views extending forty miles.
We walked through the hammock back to the seashore, where we found the most rewarding ice cream hut. A Ben & Jerry's ice cream sandwich eaten while the sun warms your back and the sea breeze cools your face..well, as the saying goes, priceless. You have to grab the moment, no?
While the tide was low, we hiked as far as we could go to the very edge of the river and the sea. Stop. Breathe deeply. Do not move.
Now, continue.
We decided to drive 16 miles into the historic town of Beaufort, SC. This is a lovely southern town and also very lively on Sunday afternoon. Perversely, I was seeking a Sunday NYTimes. Unsuccessfully. We did treat ourselves to fried grouper cheeks and Palmetto ale. You get good and greasy and wash it all away with beer. Oh, by the way, in the south, you lick your fingers!
We found Beaufort very southern and, hospitable. Do stop in, if you are ever lost between Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA.
A footnote:
the sunset over the marsh would take a small book to adequately describe. When I write my memoirs, I will include that indescribable sunset

Asheville, North Carolina

WFS is a nimble driver. No doubt about it. He's also a relentless one. Miles upon miles, never relinquishing the wheel. I will also add he will stop a zillion times, for no better reason than allowing me to dip my feet in the French Broad River. We followed the French Broad as we snaked through the lush mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina. The very, very slow route, to be sure. We took this senic and splendid route to avoid the rock slide on I40. We didn't see the Smokies but we did see America, the beautiful and America, the kitchy!
Camping last night was bliss. I was sleeping soundly by 9:45!
We've left the mountains behind and we'll see the Atlantic Ocean soon. Tonight our little TinCan will be nestled by the sea. We have cherry wood and bison burgers.. What more could two vagabonds want?

Eastern Kentucky

As I travel through the magnificent mountains near Pineville, Kentucky, two things are very clear to me:
1. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
2. It is devastatingly poor.
I wonder if we will ever reconcile these glaring contrasts.
As a child in a one room school, I was graced by the Save the Children Federation. I only knew beauty, I did not understand the concept of poverty. I thought we were priviledged. I still do. Later in life, and noted by my oldest son, I became vocal, perhaps militant on the stereotypical portrayal of the undereducated. I
must admit, it is hard not be protective of the people from this incredible landscape. It only takes a few guffaws or pointed grammatical corrections to set me aflame. I wear my heritage with enormous pride. I am looking out the windshield into a deep hardwood forest, morels are there waiting to be dry land fish for supper. Wildflowers are dotting the south banks of creekbeds. Trees in the distance are pale green, red and gray. Birds are nesting. Someplace in a hollow, a baby's foot is touching green grass for the very first time. The timeless ritual of life in the mountains on a spring day is humming to my soul.
I honor the past, I am hopeful for the future of this remarkable corner of the world.