Wednesday, July 24, 2024

Well, I didn’t actually leave today. I realized I just wasn’t ready and needed another day to get going. But now the car is mostly packed, although I’m taking more than I’d like, but have to make sure I have clothing to cover cooler evenings and nights in mid-late September if I take the whole trip as so far planned. I should be ready to leave in the morning sometime.

Thursday, July 25: Amherst-Montclair, NJ

Okay… here I go. Packed and provisioned (I hope) for two months.

On my way out of town, I stopped by Amy and Pat’s to scatter some of Bev’s ashes at their home in Northampton. We lived there for about 9 months in 1993 while we were building our house. Kaye was 6. I’ve already released ashes at our house, in and around where we lived, and in London.

Patsy and Amy serenaded me by singing Happy Trails as I was backing out of the driveway. I took a video but videos aren’t supported in this blog. Here’s a photo instead.

My drive down to NJ was uneventful, except I was so busy listening to old 1940s and 1950s radio serials on Sirius radio that I missed my exit, and wound up pretty much driving into NY city in rush hour traffic and coming into NJ over the crowded GW Bridge. Also hit some heavy rain for a while, but nevertheless a pleasant drive. I’m with Marilyn and Alan now, and just had dinner with them and Harold and Suzanne. Tomorrow, Marilyn, Alan, and I will tour and release ashes on Long Island where we lived on and off from 1972-1979, and 1981 in my case. I’m sorry Suzanne and Harold can’t join us.

Friday, July 26: Long Island, NY

The weather was lovely today, perfect for a trip to Long Island with Marilyn and Alan, although Suzanne and Harold weren’t able to join us. We visited Hempstead, NY, where it all began at Kernochan Avenue for this family of friends, when Marilyn, Suzanne, Randi, and I first lived together as housemates, and Bev first came to visit us on here on Long Island.

Bev moved up from Baltimore to join us the next year, in 1973, where we lived at 409 Fulton Avenue, Hempstead, from 1973-1974. Alan came into the picture later that year, on Halloween 1973. The house itself, an old gothic Victorian is long gone, but even the house that took its place is now dilapidated. Still, I released some of Bev’s ashes there, at this important place, and we enjoyed being there. The full story of Bev and I really began at Fulton Ave, where Bev once said to me, while we were kidding around, “You’ll never get the better of me, Phil Rich.” Very happily for me, I did get the best of Bev, and was very lucky to have done so, for the next 51 years.

We also took a visit to Hofstra University, just down the road apiece, where Marilyn and Alan attended.

From Hempstead, rather run down and urban, we headed to Westbury, where Bev and I lived from 1977-1979, and Alan, Mar, and Suzanne lived from 77-78, and Marguerite 78-79. The house is a little bigger now (and better looking), with a small extension built onto it. I was there for 3 years, 77-80, and a lot of good stuff happened there.

From Westbury, a working middle class town, on beautiful back roads through Brookville, with lovely and very expensive homes and grounds, to Greenvale and C. W. Post College (now LIU Post, part of Long Island University). Bev and I actually visited here together in 2013. A beautiful and classic campus, with many, many memories from our earliest days, 1972-1975.

From C. W. Post to Bayville, a really lovely town that we didn’t really appreciate when we lived there. It is a really lovely town, situated right on the Long Island Sound, and we spent some there, including eating and paddling a little on the beach. Of course, we visited Jackson Avenue, where Bev, Marilyn, Alan, and I lived from 1974-1975.

Then to Glen Cove, LI, where we looked for and found the Carvel Bev worked at and was robbed when living in Bayville, and Alan, Bev’s ice cream buddy, enjoyed a milk shake for Bev. Just a few doors down, Delicious Pizza, another favorite, wasn’t there anymore, but there is another restaurant in its place, in the same building. Both Carvel and the former Delicious were great to see, and still there after 48 years. Amazing.

No trip to Long Island would be complete without a visit to Levels in Great Neck, NY, where I worked from 1974-76, and again 1978-1981. We went inside for a quick look, and found the ‘I. Philip Rich’ sign still there, since 1981, on the center column.

My only couple of regrets about the day. I forgot to release some ashes in Westbury at Cross Street, and forgot to visit Mineola, NY., where Bev and I, accompanied by Suzanne, who lent us her ring, got married on December 24, 1974. Okay – next time.

Sunday, July 28: On to Baltimore

First – a very happy birthday to my dear (and dearest) sister Hilary, whose birthday is this very day.

Some thoughts. In setting out today for the Baltimore area, I’m leaving the more familiar aspects of my life. I’ll be staying a couple of nights with Brad and Gay, but visiting Ken and Estelle, and I hope tomorrow Ken and I (and maybe Brad) will be taking a “tour” of Baltimore to visit important places and release more of Bev’s ashes. It’s not so much that Baltimore is unfamiliar – it’s not; Bev and I have been going down there for 50 years, or close, and Ken is a major part of my life, having known Big Ken, it seems, since I’ve known Bev. The lack of familiarity will really begin after leaving Baltimore on Tuesday, when I head to Versailles, Kentucky, and Jerry and Melissa, by way of Sevierville, Tennessee. Once I’m out on the “open” road, after leaving Baltimore, other than visiting with Jerry and Melissa, I’ll really have no familiarity to fall back on. I do know the country well (or well enough) having travelled across it many times, but the trip itself has no real definition, other than having a sense of my stops along the way. At the moment, for instance, I have no idea where I’ll be staying each night – I do have some camping gear with me, but I expect to more often stay in hotels, which I’ll book (I hope successfully) a day or two ahead as I figure out where I’m likely to be each night, and what I’ll be doing along the way is not clear. How often will I stop, hike, eat, draw or paint, visit towns along the way, stay awhile? Will I get fed up of all the driving or the solitude? I guess I’ll find out (and so will you, dear reader). It’s both exciting (or something like that) and uncertain (or something like that).

Of course, I’ve thought about Bev constantly, of course, and ironically wish Bev was with me on this trip even though it’s largely a pilgrimage and tribute to Bev and a commemoration of her life. No Bev is so surreal.

But soon to breakfast with Marilyn, Alan, Suzanne, and Harold, and then off to Baltimore, or, actually, to Brad and Gay’s, in Hanover, Pennsylvania.

I took a fairly leisurely drive down to Pennsylvania, coming inland and passing through Lancaster and York, and arrived at Brad and Gay’s lovely home in Hanover, Pennsylvania around 4 pm. Originally, I was going to stay with Ken and Estelle, but as Estelle is having some difficulties it was better to stay in Hanover instead, about 50 minutes away. Great to see Brad and Gay, on their own turf, and we’d never been to their home before, so I’m especially glad to be here.

If things go well tomorrow, Ken and I, and perhaps Brad and Gay as well, will take a Baltimore area tour to visit those old Bev haunts and sights and spread some ashes, bringing Bev back home. Right now, though, time to sleep. 😴

Monday, July 29. Baltimore (well, Baltimore County)

Today was both a lovely day and an emotional day for me. Ken, Brad, and I took a tour of the neighborhood where Bev and they grew up, and where Bev lived until moving to NY in 1973, at age 21. Technically, we aren’t in Baltimore, but Baltimore County, near the city line. Bev used to regularly cut high school and go into the city.

Ken planned a great itinerary around the neighborhoods he, Bev, and Brad grew up in, starting with the house in which Bev, Ken, and Jerry grew up, at 3641 Forest Hills Road in Lochearn, Maryland. Bev’s friends Susie and Sandi Sutcliff lived right next door. This house and the entire area was built at the time the Seviers moved in, in the early 50’s, and is now a working-middle class neighborhood. Ken and Brad were great traveling partners, as they have fabulous memories for details, and because Brad grew up just two streets aways they knew each other even before Bev’s dad, Horace, married Marie, Brad’s mom, when Bev was around 14, after Bev, Ken, and Jerry lost their mother, Kay, in 1964 when Bev was 11, and Brad. Little Ken, and T.J.’s father passed. The local Lions Club was also a center of community life, and so their parents knew one another even before the families blended. Brad’s mother, later Bev’s step-mother, even worked part-time in Campfield elementary, which Bev attended. Ken and Brad recalled the same early experiences, knew the same people and places, including the former Seton Institute woods that ran behind Bev’s house, and was a source of great adventure and fun for the boys, although Bev told me she was always envious because she wasn’t allowed into those woods, given her age. It was great to see the house, and spread some of Bev’s ashes at this home where she started her life.

We visited Bev’s elementary school, Campfield Elementary, where some of Bev’s ashes were released there also. So long ago.

Then onto 8806 Greens Lane in Randallstown, where Bev and her brothers, including three brand new brothers (Brad, Little Ken, and T.J., then very young) lived after Horace and Marie married, when Bev was about 14. I visited this house several times before Marie moved to Charlestown. Of course, I released more of Bev’s ashes.

Of course, Woodlawn High was a must, where the Baltimore Girls Club had its origins (although they didn’t know that at the time 😊), with Bev, Suzanne, Marilyn, and Cynthia, graduating in 1970. More ashes were spread.

We visited several other places, including the middle school, and wound up our tour at Woodlawn Cemetery, a beautiful, large, and serene place, with 36,000 graves and where Bev’s parents, Horace and Kay (the first, but without the “e”) are buried. Kay died at age 44 in 1964, when Bev was just 11, and Horace died in 1971, age 54, when Bev was 19. I was very happy to release more of Bev’s ashes here, mingling with the earth in which her parents are buried.

At the end of our afternoon, we headed back to Ken’s, and spent just a short while as it was getting on and we had an hour’s drive back to Hanover. Estelle is suffering, as is Ken, but it was lovely to see her, and we met their granddaughter Saoirse, who was spending time with Estelle while we out. I’m sorry I didn’t take a photo of Saoirse, but didn’t think of it at the time.

I was planning to release some of Bev’s ashes at Ken and Estelle’s, but before I did Ken said he would like that as he would then know that Bev was always somewhere in his garden. Bev and Ken had a special and loving relationship.

Ken and I didn’t spend any time together, given circumstances, but that will happen next time. Brad and I headed back to Hanover, where Gay and Brad made a lovely dinner, and we spent the evening afterwards sitting outside in the warm evening weather. Tomorrow I leave, heading toward Sevierville, Tennessee, after first visiting Takoma Park, MD, where Bev and Suzanne lived in 1976-77, and then the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC, where Bev worked at the time. From DC, I’ll head into Virginia to Front Royal, where I’ll spend the night, and then take Skyline Drive into the Blue Ridge Mountains heading into southern Virginia and on to Tennessee.

Tuesday, July 30, 2024: To Takoma Park, Washington, and into Virginia

I left Brad and Gay’s around noon, and had a really great time visiting. But not before taking a couple of photos of Brad with his bikes, one new and one rebuilt.

I headed to Takoma Park, Maryland, from Hanover, which was a nice and leisurely drive – I definitely wasn’t in a hurry. It’s been a long time since I was in Takoma Park, and I’m pretty sure Bev hadn’t visited it either since she and Suzanne lived there from 1976-1977. They lived on the second floor, with friends who had the first floor, including Cynthia who had previously lived there.

I had forgotten how nice of a neighborhood Takoma Park is, with lots of trees and shrubs, and greenery. I took a walk around the neighborhood, and took a couple of shots of the house at 11 Lee Avenue. It was a bit run down back then, in 1976, and no different now. I released more of Bev’s ashes, as although Bev and Suz only lived there a year, it was an important place for us.

Bev also got her dog while living in Takoma Park, who Bev, appropriately named Takoma. Bev loved Takoma, who sadly died in an accident after Bev moved to San Francisco with Marguerite in 1979. Bev loved Takoma, and Takoma loved Bev. His death was very sad, and very hard for Bev.

After leaving Takoma Park, I headed for Silver Spring, where I lived for a bit while Bev and Suzanne lived in Takoma Park. Silver Spring and Takoma Park were more or less connected by Sligo Creek Parkway, a twisty road running through Sligo Park. I used to invite people to take a “hair raising” drive with me on the Parkway, in Bev and Suzanne’s little Subaru, which really handled well on those twists and turns.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the house I lived in on Wayne Avenue in Silver Spring, and the traffic was murder. I recall that when I interviewed as a house mate with the group of slightly younger people already living there, Bev and Suzanne came with me, and we later learned they thought we, slightly older, were very cool and hip. Hah!

I gave up looking for the house, and headed for the Lincoln Memorial, which has a very special place for us. The traffic was so bad, it took me 40 minutes to travel less than 10 miles, but I wanted to get to the Memorial and release more ashes.

Bev worked at the Lincoln Memorial as the sole employee managing and running the bookstore, which was inside the Memorial itself, with Abe looking on. A very odd and isolated job, and I went to visit Bev there whenever I could. The bookstore is closed off now, and I doubt will re-open as a Lincoln Memorial museum is being built.

I couldn’t, of course, release ashes in the Memorial itself (although I wanted to), but I did release ashes on the lawn outside of the Memorial. What a strange job for anyone to have, and part of dear Bev’s legend.

And just to prove I really was there…

I have my own Lincoln Memorial story from 1971, just months after being in the U.S. While sitting on the steps of the Memorial on a beautiful summer’s evening, with all the other long haired young people sitting around and playing and listening to music, when I was approached by a park police officer and almost arrested due to a suspicious looking baggie hanging outside the back pocket of my jeans. Happily, it was an empty baggie – but it hadn’t been just 30 minutes earlier. Phew.

After leaving the DC Mall, where the Lincoln Memorial is located, I headed out of DC crossing into Virginia and took route 66 toward Front Royal. Lots of rush hour traffic at that time, around 4 pm, but happily the route 66 express lane, which has a toll, has a speed limit of 70 (which meant I could drive at 78 mph), we in those express lanes were flying, even while drivers in the regular lanes had to deal with slow moving and at times stopped traffic. Worth the toll.

I arrived in Front Royal, Virginia (not much of a town, I’d say) about 70 minutes later, where I am at a present, shacked up in a delightful (not) Super 8 for the night.

Just a few words about how I’m feeling. The primary reason for this pilgrimage to all things Bev is to feel Bev’s presence as I release her ashes all over the country, and I do. I’m aware as I’m releasing ashes that they actually are the remains of Bev and she is in my hands. I remind Bev (although she’s not there) of why I’m releasing ashes in each location, and that helps center me and feel Bev’s presence, which is everywhere now. Bev fills my head, and I hope always will. I never want Bev’s memory to fade. Many tearful moments during each day.

Tomorrow I’ll be heading down Skyline Drive into the Shenandoah National Park and toward the Blue Ridge Mountains, heading further into Virginia, en route for Sevierville, Tennessee (where Dollywood is located; actually about 6 miles south of Sevierville). I hit some very heavy rain while driving to Front Royal, which was a bit of a relief from this very hot weather, but that cleared up and I’m hoping it won’t rain tomorrow along Skyline Drive.

Wednesday, July 31. Skyline Drive/Blue Ridge Parkway to Roanoke, Virginia

Okay… heading out of Front Royal along Skyline Drive and then the Blue Ridge Parkway to Roanoke, Virginia, where I’ll spend the night. It’s actually rather difficult figuring out just where the Blue Ridge Parkway starts and how it meanders, because Google Maps keeps wanting to put me on route 81, but I think I’ll be able to figure it out as I go. Just not sure how long it will actually take to get to Roanoke, but I guess it will take as long as it takes. Both Ken and Brad tell me the Blue Ridge Parkway is very windy and slow going, so it may take much longer than I expect, in which case I’ll have to adjust as I go (if I can). Looking forward to some great scenery, although there’s also thunderstorms in the forecast, as well as 96 degree weather.

Later that day. I had actually hoped to emulate a motorcycle journey I took back in the 70’s, which took me out of DC and through either West Virginia or Virginia, and round and down twisty mountain roads into valleys with small towns, but I really can’t remember which route I took back then (almost 50 years ago). Anyway, this wasn’t it… I’ll have to figure that out for another time, I suppose.

There isn’t too much to say about today, actually. I was pretty much driving all day, starting around 10 am and wrapping up around 5. Happily, it didn’t rain, despite the forecast this morning, and the temperature swung between high 70’s and early 90’s, depending on the elevation, getting up to about 3500 feet at times. I entered Skyline Drive going through Shenandoah National Park, and the entrance fee ($30) was waved as Bev and I had a lifetime senior pass (yay). A beautiful road, with great views of the Shenandoah Valley below and on either side, running about 106 miles from Front Royal, Virginia (where I spent last night) to Rockfish Gap, Virginia, where Skyline Drive ends and the Blue Ridge Parkway begins.

From Rockfish Gap, where it starts, the Blue Ridge Parkway runs about 469 miles, ending in North Carolina, but I only went as far as Roanoke, Virginia, about 170 miles, but I got off a little early, near Natural Bridge, Virginia and travelled the rest of the way on local roads.

As beautiful as Skyline Drive and the BR Parkway are, and they are very similar, and really just one continuous road, as where one ends the other begins (but there’s no fee for the Blue Ridge, as it doesn’t run through the National Park), it does get somewhat monotonous. Full of endless curves, twists, and turns, after a couple of hours it starts to feel less interesting, and I hoped for some different or more dramatic views, but the landscape is pretty much the same all the way through the 200 plus mile drive from Front Royal to Roanoke. Still, no complaints. I did stop a number of times and stretched my legs, and took a couple of trail hikes along the way.

I’m in Roanoke I am at the moment, where I’m spending the night at another prime (I’m being sarcastic) motel.

Tomorrow, south to Sevierville, Tennessee. For now, goodnight,

Then, leaving Roanoke and Virginia behind, I travelled about 250 miles south, to Sevierville, Tennessee, for obvious reasons. The journey down was uninteresting as I took Interstate 81 all the way, because more local roads would have added 2 hours to the journey, and I wanted to get here so I’d have some time to look around.

Bev was here with Kaye, as well as Marguerite and Sam, in 1997, also for obvious reasons. Here’s a photo of Bev and Kaye taken in front of the Chamber of Commerce Welcome Center, taken by Marguerite. I looked everywhere for that sign, and finally found that it has been replaced with a new one, although in the same location. I mean, it has been 27 years. It was time for a new sign.

Sevierville, “Gateway to the Smokies,” is a really lovely small town. Actually, it isn’t that small, and covers a lot of territory, with Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg just down the road, as well as the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. It’s well kept and is nice looking – despite the strip quality of the road leading into it, and out toward Pigeon Forge, with endless theme parks and tourist attractions… the largest and most famous of which is Dollywood, which opened in 1986. Sevierville is the home of Dolly Parton, who grew up here. Here’s her statue in downtown Sevierville.

The downtown area is small, but pretty, and well maintained. As you can see, clean as a whistle. Even my motel was a notch or two over the others I’ve stayed at so far.

I released some more of Bev’s ashes here in Sevierville, not only because Bev was here but because Sevierville is her namesake. Now part of Bev really is here in Sevierville. I released some of Bev’s ashes in Sevierville City Park, a lovely park and well maintained, like the city. It has lovely grounds with a pool and small waterpark, as well as tennis and pickleball courts that people were using, despite temperatures in the low 90’s.

After spending time driving and walking around the city, I took a drive out to the National Park, and as I approached it, around Pigeon Forge I could see the magnificent Smokey Mountains looming in the distance. Lovely to live in a town surrounded by such dramatic magnificence. I drove for a short while through part of the park, but not too much as the day was coming to an end. Beautiful.

Bev was everywhere for me in Sevierville. Just seeing her name everywhere. It was a lovely time for me.

Then back to the motel (which really was pretty decent this time), and writing up this blog. So far, the journey is off to a good start and going well, and it feels pretty good to be doing this. I do feel I’m on a bit of a pilgrimage after all.

Tomorrow, I’m heading to Jerry and Melissa in Versailles (called “versale” in sophisticated Kentuckian), and looking forward to that, about 4 hours north west of here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship, Bev and me, and the love we shared for so long, even before we became an actual couple, in December 1979. We were housemates before that, since 1973, but great friends. Our friendship and the love we shared as friends was the foundation for our relationship as life partners, which is what we were.

Before she and Marguerite moved from Westbury, NY, to San Francisco, Bev wrote and illustrated a wonderful story for me called, “Is It Fission or Fusion,” signed by Beverly Ann Marie Sevier Rich (we had been married for over 6 years by then, a selfless act on Bev’s part that allowed me to stay in the U.S.). Following the story (which is wonderful and funny, just like Bev), Bev wrote a hand written note, which I re-read last night.

It said, “My dear Phil. I hope that whenever you look at this you will remember how much I love you and you will smile.” She described “being able to easily express my love for you and receiving such warmth and love from you,” and concluded by writing, “I take so much of you in my heart with me when I leave that I know when I touch upon it, it will make me feel happy and strong.” Those were really prophetic words, that lasted our lifetimes. I did remember how much Bev loved me and I did smile when I re-read the story, and Bev’s words touched me very deeply (more tears). Bev meant when she left for San Francisco, but I hope when Bev did leave for the very last time, just five months ago, our love did help her to feel happy and strong.

It was in that hand written note that Bev reminded me of the quote I mentioned at the start of this blog: “Going on means going far. Going far means returning.” That’s what this journey is about: going far and going back, returning and re-visiting, experiencing Bev and our lives together through our history.

When we lived together as housemates for the first time in 1973, just a few months after we moved into 409 Fulton Avenue in Hempstead, we were bantering back and forth in fun across the bannisters on the second floor landing of the big old gothic Victorian house, and Bev famously (in my mind, at least) said, “you’re not going to get the better of me, Phil Rich.” More prophetic words. Who knew we’d be together all our lives, or that I did get the better of Bev, in that I got the very best that Bev had to give, changing me and helping me become the person I am. What a partnership and love we had, lasting over 50 years.

Okay, enough. It’s 12:30 am and time for bed. Kentucky, and Jerry and Melissa tomorrow (actually today).

FrIday, August 2. From Sevierville To Versailles, Kentucky

A lot of rain last night and overnight, but clear during the day. I left around 10:30, and headed north to Versailles, Kentucky, to visit with Jerry and Melissa, where we’ll spread more of Bev’s ashes.

I arrived around 2 pm, after an uneventful and straightforward drive. Jerry isn’t feeling to well, so didn’t get to spend too much time with Jerry as he needed to rest, but spent bice time with Melissa, and their friend Randy joined us for dinner. Randy recently lost his wife, Judy, who was a close friend of both Jerry and Melissa, but especially Melissa. He and I are in the same boat, and Randy tells me he cries every day. The loss of a life partner, a spouse, a deep friend, your other half, is just decimating. Although the widow/widower looks and functions “normally,” that’s not what’s going on inside. And it does feel like the loss of your other half, as it leaves you feeling that half of you has been stripped away and is gone forever, and you have to live your life as a half a person and get used to it. But, perhaps I’ll be flimsy, a half person for the rest of my life. The things you did as two, that had meaning when there were two of you, making a complete whole, you now do as one, lacking that meaning.

While I was driving today, I thought a bit about what I wrote last night. I wondered who I’m writing this blog for – me or others who may read it? For me, the blog feels good. Ideas, stories, and memories floating around in my head can be put on paper (well, cyber paper) where they can live independently of me and have a life of their own.

I didn’t take any photos today, just driving up here and then spending time with Jerry and Melissa. I’ll be here, in Versailles, until Sunday, when I’ll begin my journey to Denver, which will take several days. Tomorrow will be a nice day.

Saturday August 3

Today was a stay at home day – at Melissa and Jerry’s home, that is. Unfortunately, Jerry has been having some long standing problems, and he and Melissa went to the Emergency Room over night, and Jerry was hospitalized at the University of Kentucky hospital in Lexington, for an infection. Happily, though, this is a good place for him right now. Melissa was with Jerry all day, and will be staying with him each day and overnight while he’s there, and when I went to visit later in the day Jerry was feeling comfortable, was pain free, and looked good. Look how good he looks in the photo below!

I mostly meandered about during the day, and wrote a brief report I had promised to write, so made pretty good of my time alone, sent some texts and emails, and made a couple of phone calls. I visited Jerry later in the afternoon, after he was transferred from the ER to his room. UK hospital is gigantic, and they even have a 24-hour shuttle from the parking garage to various hospital facilities across the Lexington campus.

Bev and I were here visiting, along with Ken and Estelle, in 2018. Some lovely memories. Happier times in many significant ways.

Before I left to visit Jerry this afternoon, I took a walk for a couple of miles down the beautiful Kentucky lane behind Jerry and Melissa’s house, where I met alpacas and horses, and where Bev and I walked just six years ago this very month. Much has changed since then, and Bev was in pretty good shape back then, and happy, despite difficulties.

Just down the road from the house are beautiful fields, with an Alpaca farm and plenty of thoroughbred horses in this horse country, well known for race horses and, of course, the Kentucky Derby. This is where it all happens.

Ant then, there are the neighbors in this beautiful countryside.

I have strong memories of when Bev and I were here, just a few years ago, and, despite developing problems, how vital and alive Bev was. I’ll be heading out tomorrow, en route for Denver, which will take a few days to reach, but before I head out I’ll be releasing some more of Bev’s ashes, at a spot picked by Jerry and Melissa where the ashes of their good friend Judy were spread after she passed, just before Bev, as well as the ashes of Melissa’s parents. That seems a very good place for some of Bev to reside.

Time for bed (or almost, after watching some of the Olympics highlights of the day, which Bev always enjoyed). Tomorrow, I hit the road again. I started travelling just 10 days ago, but it feels like weeks… in a good way. I’m certainly finding the journey rewarding, and it’s taking my mind off of the question, “now what the hell I am going to do with my life without Bev?,” even though I definitely don’t have the answer. Bev feels very much with me all the way on this trip, and I feel her presence all the time.

Sunday, August 4

Almost time to get going, almost due west to Denver, which is about 1200 miles from here. Tonight I’ll be stopping in O’Fallon, just west of St. Louis. I think it’s probably actually a suburb of St. Louis.

Melissa returned from staying overnight with Jerry in the hospital, where he is doing well and feeling somewhat better. He’ll be there seven days for the entire course of antibiotics. She just left to minister at church, and will go back to the hospital after that.

I scattered some of Bev’s ashes, right by the statue of St. Frances – we have two garden statues of him at home ourselves. A beautiful spot.

I dreamed of Bev last night, which is actually the first dream I’ve had of Bev, although I’ve very much been wanting to dream about Bev. The dream was very vivid and wonderful. I was at a gathering to commemorate Bev, perhaps because Jerry and I were talking about that last night, when Bev showed up. It was lovely to see her, but confusing as I knew Bev had passed 6 or 7 weeks ago (in my dream, that is; in reality, it’s been just over 5 months), and I couldn’t understand how she was there and alive, and very much Bev in every way. I started to go round to let everyone know that Bev was alive, before they saw her walking around, but no-one seemed surprised. I couldn’t understand how she was with us, but it was great. I couldn’t get over the fact that Bev had returned from the dead; I was happy. I thought perhaps we’d all been mistaken about her death, or that perhaps I’d simply dreamed that Bev had died and she actually hadn’t, or maybe she’d just been ill, or in a deep sleep or a coma, but not dead and had now had woken up (just like Snow White or the Sleeping Beauty). We held hands, we laughed, we talked, we walked, and we laid together on a bed, and I let Bev know that Doris had been holding her hand when she passed. I was confused though, and then I remembered this journey was all about releasing and spreading Bev’s ashes across the country, and that Bev’s body had been cremated, and I realized this could not be. At that moment, I drifted back into awakeness and realized this was the dream, and the dream was not that Bev had not died. It was lovely to see and be with Bev, and I was very happy when I woke up, although then became a little sad. Still, I couldn’t have wished for a better dream.

And now off to O’Fallon, Missouri., and farewell to Versailles, for now at least.

And now, arriving at 4:30 central time (I’ve changed time zones now), I’m here at the Super 8 in O’Fallon. Actually, the rooms here are pretty nice for an economy motel. It seemed like a long drive, covering about 380 miles, passing through Louisville (pronounced “Louvihl,” and I learned from Melissa that Sevierville is similarly pronounced “Sevievihl,” but I’m not going to say it that way 😊) and, many miles later, St. Louis.

I’ve been listening to music and also listening to a lot of 1940 and 50’s radio series on Sirius XM, some of which are pretty good. It also passes the time, and especially on highways like Interstate 64 that just go and on, with very little to see of interest. States like Indiana, which I passed through today, and Missouri (where I am now) and Kansas (which is the next state west of here) are flat and pretty boring, with little (if any) interesting scenery. Passing through St. Louis, which I’ve been to a couple of times, was nice to see, even from the highway, but I just wanted to get here, as today and the next couple of days are just stop off points on my way to Denver, where the scenery and surroundings are fabulous.

Consequently, most of the way there really wasn’t anything of interest to photograph, except the view of St. Louis from Interstate 64, but there was no way to take a photo and drive. But, here is that view from I-64, which I found on the internet. Pretend I took that photo.

On my way to Denver, though, I do plan to take a detour and pass through Dodge City, and am looking forward to that as a famous town of the Old West. I’ll be on the look out for the Long Branch Saloon and Marshall Dillon (the TV show Gunsmoke, for those who may not know), but as Ken said, I’d better not let him get the drop on me or I’ll wind up in Boot Hill.

But right now, in this rather unscenic area around the motel, I plan to take a walk in the still very hot sun (91 degrees at 6 pm), and then maybe I’ll go to a movie.

I took a drive around O’Fallon, and then found the Busch Greenway and Katy Trail in nearby St. Charles, about 25 minutes east of here, and took a decent size walk along the well-maintained and nice looking forested trail in the Missouri State Park. It was almost dark by the time I was done. Now I’m going to sleep. Maybe I’ll dream of Bev again.😴

Monday, August 5

About a 350 mile drive to Junction City, Kansas, and just as flat and boring a ride as yesterday. Perhaps I’m not being fair, as, of course, there are lovely and scenic parts of Missouri (like the Ozarks in the south), and I’m sure Kansas as well, but I haven’t really seen any. And, after all, Kansas is in the Great Central Plains. Surprisingly, though, it’s actually not the flattest state in the country, and ranks only seventh.

I’m here in Junction City, Kansas, which is actually a nice little, mid-American town.

I drove and walked around town, and got a feel for it. Lots of buildings are nice looking and built from local Limestone. Very small town America.

The county courthouse was built in 1899, and the C. L. Hoover Opera House, now the local community theater, was built in 1898. Great looking buildings, with other stone buildings adding to the character of the town. 

And a number of these JC sculptures are around town.

And in case you were wondering…

Finally, I think I might settle here and open a business…

Some thoughts on my trip so far. I hit 2,000 miles today, at just 12 days out (but it feels like a lot longer). It’s going well, it feels good, and, importantly I don’t feel worn out, tired, or uncomfortable from the driving. The Kia is doing well… not so good on gas mileage, though. It was getting maybe 29-30 miles per gallon on the highway, but today I hit speed limits of 75 mph, which meant I was travelling around 83 mph, and the gas mileage sank lower still. We’ll see how tomorrow looks, gas-wise. But, it’s the journey that’s important to me, not the cost.

Bev is ever on my mind, and others too it seems. Suzanne had a very similar dream to mine about Bev, very vivid and detailed, and I think the same night as mine (Bev’s evidently been busy making visitations 😊), in which Bev was alive and well, until Suzanne also started realizing in the dream that Bev was not so alive and well, other than in our hearts and minds. But, it sounds like a dream like mine, in that it not only brought Bev back for a bit, but it brought happiness as well.

None of this is surprising of course, but as I listen to music while driving, so much of it puts me in mind of Bev, either because she loved the music or because the words put me in mind of Bev, and her tremendous loss. 💔

Tomorrow, I head for Lakin, Kansas for my final stopover before reaching Denver – but stopping at Dodge City on the way.

Tuesday, August 6

Today was a long day, and after spending a few hours in Dodge City, Kansas, I wound up in Holly, Colorado for the night, in an interesting and run down but funky kind of hotel. Not for everyone, I’d say, but I’ll get back to that.

The driving has ben fine, even for these long, many hours drives (today I covered about 340 miles, maybe 6 hours of driving in all) , through Kansas, and Kansas is definitely flat (have I said before?), marked with grain silos and elevators in every town, running along the railroad. In fact, grain elevators ought to be the state symbol. I also saw lots of wind turbines along the way, but they came and went, unlike the grain elevators, which are a constant feature. It’s flat out there.

After a long and flat drive, I pulled into Dodge City… which is a great place to visit. It really is a major seat of the Old West, sitting at the junction of the Chisholm Drive, along which cattle drives brought thousands of head of cattle from Texas, across the Red River, to Kansas, and the Santa Fe Trail, a major trading route from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Missouri, cutting through Colorado and Kansas.

Wyatt Earp and his brothers were here, Bat Masterson, Doc Holliday, and other icons of the Old West.

Wyatt Earp died in 1929 at age 80. He did a lot of things, including being a boxing referee, and was eventually sort of active in early Hollywood as a consultant for early silent cowboy movies He’s buried in the Jewish cemetery in Colma, just outside of San Francisco, with his wife, Josephine, who was Jewish and who died in in 1944.

Bat Masterton died in 1921. He also did a lot of things, and at the time of his death at age 67 was a sports writer and columnist in New York city for the Morning Telegraph newspaper, which went out of business in 1972. Wow, huh?

And let’s not forget Marshall Matt Dillon

The town is pretty nice, once you get to the residential neighborhoods, with nice houses, some of which go way back and have historical significance. In the “old” days, I might have considered staying here for a while, and getting a job. The history is mostly represented on the main street, what used to be front street, where all the action was back in the 1870s and 80s, and behind the boot hill museum is a replica Old West street, including the famous Long Branch saloon (and, apparently, Miss Kitty performs there in evening shows). I would like to have stayed a while in Dodge, even though I had to turn in my six guns at the edge of town, but already had booked my hotel for the night in Holly, Colorado, and had a two hour drive ahead of me. As it was, I stayed till around 6 pm.

Dodge City railroad station is also right there on Main street, as iconic a western symbol as you can imagine. It’s really loaded with history, and the original Harvey Girls dormitories were there, and the Fred Harvey hotel, from way back when when the station depot was built in 1898.

In front of the railroad depot are two giant sun dials. One is set for Mountain time, and the other for Central, and the dividing line between the two time zones goes right through the middle of the two dials.

Dodge, and Kansas in general, really was the dead center, so to speak, of the cattle business, and still is, with cattle auctions here weekly. The cattle yards here, where cattle are "processed" (and not for their green cards) are vast, with as many as 45,000 head of cattle. In those yards, which are massive and go way back into the distance, what look like dots in the distance are actually cattle, waiting to get to the "right" weight before being slaughtered and processed.

But the king of the cattle are the Texas Longhorns, which originally came from Spain. You can easily see why they’re called long horns.

I took the Dodge City trolley tour, which lasted about 75 minutes, which went around town as well outside of the town, going into Fort Dodge, one of the army garrisons built to protect the settlers from the Plains Indians, who at some point got fed up of these interlopers, but to no avail, as we know.

And finally, I got out of Dodge, stopping to take a few more photos of the town and its streets

After getting out of Dodge, I headed west. I know I’ll see many more as I travel, but I love those long lonesome trains you see all over the west and southwest, some I think must be over a mile long. Years ago, when I lived for a while in Gallup, New Mexico, you could wait for over 20 minutes at the railroad crossing in the middle of town when a freight train was going through. And more flat roads, all the way to Colorado.

And then, about 2 plus hours later, moving into mountain time, I reached Holly, Colorado, and my hotel for that night.

Holly wasn’t what I was expecting, although I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting. But not this. It was difficult to find a hotel in this area, including just east, in Kansas. These towns are small with little amenities. Holly is truly a one horse town. There are three small restaurants, and a movie theater, but’s it’s only open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It is showing Deadpool and Wolverine, though. 😊

But best of all was my hotel. First, it took me almost 10 minutes to locate it. Oh, there was a run down old hotel, that said "Hotel" and nothing else, but where was the Holly Suites Inn, which I'd booked? Well, it turns out, although perhaps they didn't want anyone to know, that run down old hotel, looking pretty derelict, and I wasn't even sure it was actually open, was the Holly Inn Suites. Sheesh! As I walked up the stairs, I still wasn't sure it was the hotel I'd booked. But it was.   

I actually came to like it within a couple of minutes of being upstairs; it was funky and not at all run of the mill, with its own character – which was dilapidated, but western. It had a charm, just like my room, but odd and 1 star. Maybe 1-1/2 stars, as I’ve actually stayed in worse. Kathy, the manager, was something else. Very friendly, and very Texan, she proceeded to talk to me for 35-45 minutes straight, telling me about her failed and abusive marriage, the deaths of her children from overdoses and suicide, raising her five now young adult grandkids, the hauntings and ghosts of dead women and three children in the hotel (that’s always a selling point for a hotel), her diabetes and leukemia, which she does not believe she has despite being diagnosed, spiritual encounters with others, and her plans to walk as far as she can for God, with no other plans, starting sometime in September. I told her I’m on a drive for Bev (which, of course, is true), and she wondered if God had brought me to the hotel to meet her, as is has been the case for many others. She was actually very nice, if a little crazy, and I enjoyed talking to her. She has character, like the hotel. I finally was able to interject, at a pause, and say I had to go wash up. Phew! All this time, my room was immediately behind her, as we were in the hallway; so close, and yet so far.

My room, “The Tall Texan,” was equally run down, but with character… until I found some dried dog pooh in there. Obviously hadn’t been cleaned very well (although that seems like an understatement). Kathy cleaned up (it had obviously been there for a while, and was dried up), and like the stalwart fellow I am, checking the sheets as best I could for bugs and the like, I went to bed.

An odd arrangement. A coffee maker, but no cups. A tall desk, but no chair. A TV but a remote that didn’t work. An unopened roll of toilet paper, but no toilet paper dispenser. An overhead light, but no bedside lamp, so you can see where you’re going after you’ve turned out the overhead light. But, the dog pooh added that finishing touch.

Would I stay again? I’d have to say no. 😊

Wednesday, August 7

I made it through the night in one piece, and left for Denver, which is about 4 hours north. I’m back to staying in regular, non-character hotels. I’m in Henderson, Denver, for three nights, and Kaye will be joining me here on Fri evening when she flies in from San Francisco.

After getting in and settled, I headed to Indrina’s (Goosey) home to visit with Shikha. It was a lovely and wonderful visit, but also very sad and gut wrenching, and I haven’t cried this much for a while.

Almost as I soon as I saw Shikha, and how much her cancer and cognitive decline has diminished, aged, and robbed her I started to cry, and cried for much of our visit. I couldn’t really stop myself, and didn’t want to. Shikha’s circumstance touched deeply upon Bev’s, and Shikha cried repeatedly and talked about how much she missed Bev, and how sorry she was that she never got to see Bev. It may have been that my presence grounded Shikha somewhat, as Indrina said she has not been this coherent in a while. Shikha held onto our conversation, knew both Bev and me well, asked about everyone else, and was quite present and in the moment. Her crying set me off, as well as just seeing Shikha and the situation she’s in. We cried together, we held hands, we said we loved one another. I told Shikha how important she was to both Bev and me, and we held her in our hearts, just as we now hold Bev in our hearts. I don’t know why I didn’t know just how upsetting this visit would be, but I didn’t, until the moment I stepped inside. I’ll be going back tomorrow and Friday to visit again. Heart breaking. Horrible. Tragic. No words, really.

Dev, Indrina and Eric’s 2-1/2 year old son, is a delight, and very friendly and loving. Likes his popsicles, it seems.

On my way back to the hotel, finally seeing mountains instead of plains, I saw a lovely Denver sunset.

I was deeply moved by seeing Shikha, and it has left me feeling very sad and helpless, as I did with Bev. The things that happen, the lives that are robbed. Bev and Shikha robbed of their very essence, their zest, their joy, their ability to be independent people who can do it themselves, and do not need help. It made me remember Bev under the worst and most tragic conditions, conditions that Shikha now lives under. Shikha was able to answer when I asked how she felt, “miserable.” Shikha, who was beautiful, warm and generous, funny and fun, happy, filled with life.

Thursday, August 8

The day was a real change in weather from the dry 92-101 degree weather I’ve been experiencing every day so far. I was surprised (and a little disappointed) to find it was both raining and kind of cool when I stepped out of the hotel this morning, around 8:45. It did brighten and warm up as the day went on, but even so remained a little cooler than usual, although nice weather.

I started out the day by going to my buddy Tom Leversee’s house in Lakewood, Denver, and met his lovely wife, Jan, who I know of through my many conversations with Tom over the years. I got there as I was being interviewed for a live streamed one hour event by my professional organization ATSA, as the fourth in the series, Visionary Voices. Yes, that’s me, a visionary voice. Who knew?

I did this at Tom’s, as I wanted to ensure a stable and good internet connection. It went well, and then I headed out for the day, returning late afternoon to have dinner with Jan and Tom.

I went back to visit Shikha, and stayed for a couple of hours. Shikha was still fairly aware, but less cogent than yesterday. It was a less emotional visit than yesterday’s, but nevertheless so very, very sad to see my good and loving friend Shikha in this condition.

While I was there, I saw this clipping from the 1980’s of Shikha, Antara, and Indrina in India, when they met Mother Theresa. Amazing. Amazing Shikha.

I’ll come back to visit Shikha again tomorrow afternoon, and after leaving headed for Red Rock park and amphitheater in Denver, the site of many a concert. On the way, I spotted the nearby Lakeside Amusement Park, opened in 1908 but still going strong. The sign on the entrance reads, Ride the Cyclone, the Greatest Coaster in North America. Well, maybe in 1940, when it was installed. Great looking though. Hey, maybe Kaye and I will visit.

Red Rock Park is just, well, spectacular, as is the incredible amphitheater with incredible and beautiful views, just outside of Denver in Golden, at an altitude of about 6,500 feet. What a place to see a concert, and what a place to play a concert.

After walking around a bit, I took a short, but moderate hike of about 2 miles on the Geological Overview trail, with stunning rock formations and views, including a view over Denver.

Even the roads and parking lots are beautiful in Red Rock Park, with a beautiful tunnel through the red Aztec sandstone rock that cars and hikers pass through.

As I left Red Rock, the weather was cooling again and a heavy thunderstorm followed, for maybe 15 minutes, but was heavy. I felt sorry for those people in the amphitheater waiting for tonight’s concert with Mt. Joy (never heard of them, but what does that mean?). I drove around for a bit as the rain stopped, and it was heavy there for a while, just checking out the community near Red Rock, and then headed to Jan and Tom’s for dinner, which was very nice. I enjoyed getting to know Jan a little. We ate outside, but it was sort of sweatshirt weather as we approached the evening, and the first time it was too cool to wear a tank top since I started this journey.

Tomorrow, Tom and I will have breakfast with another Denver friend, Chris, and then Tom and I will go off into the mountains somewhere. And Kaye arrives tomorrow evening

Some of my thoughts for the day. I’m in this situation where I’m awash in this journey, which is taking up all my thoughts and focus. I have no real goal, except the journey itself, and releasing Bev’s ashes (next place for that ritual will be in Boulder, which Bev loved when we were there in 2021, and after that Arches National Park in Moab, Utah, where we hiked and Bev loved the environment and ambiance), but otherwise I have no focus on or idea about what my life will be at the end of the journey.

The last time I was in a situation of goallessness was 1976-1977, age 25/26. That journey helped set me on my life from 1977 until Feb 29, 2024, when I once again became goalless and life lost meaning and substance. This time, I’m 73. The vastness of this journey is taking up all my time, washing over me with thoughts about Bev and our life, and the journey itself is the meaning, and is everything, for now. Back to that favorite quote that Bev reminded me of back in 1979, from the Tao Te Ching. “Going on means going far; going far means returning.” The same sentiment is presented by the poet T. S. Elliot: “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” I’m on that journey, in which I hope to re-know my life, which I thought I did know, until the loss of Bev.

Friday, August 9

Okay, up and at ’em. It’s actually Saturday morning now, but Ken has sent me an email telling me to get on with the job, so here I am blogging yesterday. I started out the day by joining Big Tom Leversee (he really is big, at 6′ 9″) and another friend in the area, Chris Lobonov-Rostovsky, for breakfast at 7:30 (even for me nowadays, that’s a little early), and it was really good to see him also. But, unlike we who don’t work, Chris had to go to work, as was humorously observed by a fellow (older) diner who came over to Tom and me after Chris had to leave for work. Unlike Chris, who was was wearing a shirt and tie (a dead give away he was going to work), Tom and I were wearing jeans and t-shirts, which is the first time in a while that I haven’t worn shorts, a tank top, and sandals, because the weather has taken a dip in temperatures, and at that point was relatively cool, in the high 60’s with the likelihood of rain.

This is good, of course, for the area, as the temps have been high, like everywhere else, and they need the rain. It has rained for the past couple of days, sometimes heavily, like Thursday, and it did rain again later in the day.

Tom and I headed over to his home, and got ourselves together before heading to Golden Gate Canyon Park for the great outdoors and a hike.

Then onto Golden Gate Canyon park, to which Kaye noted “that’s here,” meaning Golden Gate park in San Francisco, except, as I pointed out, without the “Canyon” part. 😊 The park is, of course (how could it be any other way, in this part of the world?), beautiful.

We took a moderately strenuous (at times) 3 miles hike, which got me pooped on those uphill parts, and had a good time time talking and walking and admiring the scenery. For Tom, of course, it’s old hat as a native to the area, and he used to work up here many years ago, near the park, in a treatment program for kids in these mountains. For me, also, I suppose it’s old hat, as I’ve seen and been in, on my own and with Bev, sights and regions like this many times over the years, but, nevertheless, it’s always refreshing and wonderful to be in landscapes like this, no matter how many times. We stopped to record the gentle sound of the breeze in the meadows at some point. There’s a video clip below, which I hope will play. Very serene out here.

Good timing, as it started to rain during our last half mile, and we got back to the car just as it started coming down more heavily. Back to Tom and Jan’s, where I stayed for a while, and then I headed back to the hotel to clean up before going to visit Shikha again.

Shikha was again very coherent, and was clearly in the moment and able to participate, although with difficulty, in the conversation, and showed both good recollection of the past and orientation to the present. I asked about that newspaper clip of the visit to Mother Theresa, and Indrina started to fill me in, telling me Shikha worked for Mother Theresa, Sister Theresa at that time, in Kolkata (then Calcutta) after she graduated from high school at age 16, and Shikha was able to talk fairly clearly about it, with some detail.

That level of coherence continued, even after Indrina, Eric, and Dev went out to eat, and Dulce arrived for the evening, and we sat outside for a while. Like, Indrina, Dulce commented that my visit seemed to have sparked more focus for Shikha, who was more capable and able to converse than usual. Alan and Marilyn will be here to visit in a little over a week, which Shikha seemed aware of, and that will hopefully also lead to Shikha being more aware and capable, at least for a coupe of days.

I said goodbye, saying I hoped I might be back in early September, as I think I may pass through this way again, and Shikha said she hoped so (so do I). It’s very sad to say goodbye, especially in this case, where I may never see Shikha again, and the possibility of being back in a few weeks definitely softened that for me, and perhaps Shikha as well.

On to Denver airport, where I picked Kaye up right on time.

We went out for a steak dinner. I’ve been on my Phil Rich Lifetime Diet, and haven’t been eating much, and definitely ate too much, and neither of us could finish our meals at Mickey’s Top Sirloin, which was a decent place to eat. Then, back to the hotel and to sleep. Kaye would like to visit Shikha tomorrow, but after texting Indrina, we’d have to be there before 10:30, as Shikha has an appointment at that time, and it will be getting too late after as we want to head up to Boulder. We’ll play visiting by ear.

Saturday, August 10

Today we hoped to visit Shikha and Indrina before heading up to Boulder, but Shikha was sleeping and so we went directly to Boulder instead. I’ve been here several times, but Bev and I were here in 2021, and she and I both loved the town. I have some lovely photos of Bev here, and they made my heart glad to see them just before I wrote this blog.

Boulder is is a beautiful town, great for walking around, with lots of parks, lovely residential streets and houses, and a great downtown, filled with stores, restaurants, and music, with spectacular and dramatic mountain views in the background. The well-known Pearl Street Mall is great to walk, and the weather today was perfect for being outdoors here in Boulder.

After walking and driving around a little, including driving through the historic district, with wonderful homes, we headed west, about 9 miles outside of town, to Boulder Falls, which Bev and I visited and really enjoyed. Kaye and I released some of Bev’s ashes here, by Boulder Creek, and I followed my ritual of talking to Bev and letting her know how much I love her and why I picked this spot. It’s by now a comfortable ritual for me, and adds a little meaning.

After leaving Boulder Falls, we headed to Eldorado Canyon State Park in Eldorado Springs, which is yet another beautiful spot, and took a 2 mile hike. By now, the weather was a little more overcast, but still nice, with some rain and thunder in the air.   

We headed back to the hotel for a while, to rest up a bit, and then headed back into beautiful downtown Boulder for dinner, and a little more of a walk and drive around, and wound up our day by releasing some more of Bev’s ashes in the lovely (like all of Boulder, seemingly) Boulder Creek Park, at a lovely time of day as dusk was coming down over Boulder, and some nice music playing at a local venue in the background. A lovely day.

I think I’ll be coming back to Boulder if I come back this way in September, as I think I will, and perhaps stay a couple of days, maybe three.

Last thought for the day. Kaye is the first company I’ve had with me on this trip thus far. It’s different today. My thoughts are more on being with Kaye and enjoying our time together, and more vacation-like, and for Kaye it is a vacation away from her usual life and routine. The tone has changed, and is now interactive and with a different shape, and especially because it’s Kaye, the other person most deeply connected to the loss of Bev. I think this will continue while I’m with Kaye, which I’m looking forward to, until after I leave Berkeley, when my journey will once again continue in solitude, with a change in my internal tone and dialogue, when I’m again just talking to myself.

Sunday, August 11, 2024

We had a good day. Kaye and I headed to Colorado Springs, arriving a little before noon, and parking in the downtown area. The town had some nice features, but generally seemed like your classic American small town, with nothing of particular note.

We walked around a little on this quiet Sunday, and decided to instead check out the old part of town, Old Colorado City. Now that was far more interesting, with some lovely action and a bunch of interesting stores, including a really great store, filled with Mexican pottery, rugs, day of the dead figures, and much. much (much) more. I love those stores, as did Bev. This was one of the best. Live band playing in the park on a Sunday mid-day, in a very lively section of town.

We enjoyed the old town, and then moved on to visit Garden of the Gods, just outside of the town, not quite knowing what to expect. Incredible and very large park, with so many trails and so much effort into creating and maintaining this beautiful area, with orange-red and white sandstone rock formations … and at no cost. Incredible place to visit.

We reluctantly left Garden of the Gods, and headed toward Pikes Peak, which is even more incredible at 14,000 feet. On the way, we passed through a great town, Manitou Springs, which was a great looking town, and very busy. Lots of great things to photograph, but there was no place to easily park, and we were sort of swept along by the traffic through the town. We both agreed this was our kind of town, and I’m very sorry we didn’t get a chance to explore it or take photos, plus we wanted to get to Pikes Peak. But, if I can, I’d like to return to Manitou Springs at some point and spend some time.

Pikes Peak isn’t too far outside of Colorado Springs, but the mountain road, at just 16 or so miles to the top, takes an hour or so to climb, as the well-paved road becomes more and more perilous, with constant s-bends and u-turn switchbacks, as the road rose above the tree lines and clouds. Can’t really travel faster than 5-15 mph, and it gets more and more hairy as you near the top. Most of the time, as I was driving, I’m staring at the blue sky dotted with clouds, not above me, but directly in front of me, at eye level. Phew. The drive just keeps going, up and round the mountain, up and round, on and on, hairier and hairier. The payoff was finally reaching the peak, at 14,115 feet. Despite clouds in the sky, which were actually beautiful in themselves, we had perfect weather, with great views.

Pikes Place is another place we loved, and were reluctant to leave. But Colorado City, where we are spending the night, was 2 hours away, and it was already 5:30. So, down we drove. Not as heart gripping as the journey up, but pretty hairy just the same. The only way to safely drive it is in very low gear, even in first at times… which is exactly what the park ranger said when we paid our fee to enter at the bottom of the peak.

A couple of miles down, there’s a mandatory brake check, where a park ranger takes the temperature of the brake rotors, because of the risk of brake fade or failure if the rotors get too hot due to the constant braking while driving down. Our brakes were pretty hot, although could handle more, but nevertheless, the ranger recommended a 15 minute rest to let the brakes cool, as we had 13 more miles to go, and were on the steepest part of the peak. He too, said the staff go into the lowest gear when taking those u-bends, avoiding brake use as much as possible. After a short break, we continued on our way, choosing not to stop at the many rest and viewing stops on the way down as we wouldn’t be getting to Colorado City until 7:30 as it was. Too bad, we didn’t have more time.

We hit some very heavy rain for a short while on the drive, but arrived here in Colorado City around 7:30, right on time, checked in, and in this tiny town there was really nowhere to eat at this point, so it was sandwiches from the Circle K over the road. It was a very good day.

Monday, August 12

Change in itinerary today. We were going to head to Durango to take a several hour excursion on the Durango and Silverton rail, into the San Juan mountains, but of course on the very and only day we can do that trip (tomorrow was the plan), they’re have no seats. So, instead, we’ll cut that section of our trip out, and instead head directly for Taos, New Mexico today, which, with this new route, turns out to just 2½ hours from where we are right now, in Colorado City, and we’ll spend the night in Taos tonight. Bev and I visited Taos twice, and Bev was there one other time (maybe two, but I’m not sure), and we loved Taos, and Santa Fe, which we’ll hit next, after Taos. Last time we were in Taos, I got very close to a rattle snake on an off-road and overgrown trail by the Rio Grande Gorge, and only knew because of the very clear warning rattle.

This change in itinerary will either give us a couple of extra days to play around with, or get back to Berkeley a couple of days early, which will probably be better for Kaye as her next (and last) semester is about to begin. As for the Durango and Silverton rail, Kaye really is fine with skipping that (although maybe she doesn’t know what she’s missing), and I may be able to take that trip myself (maybe), when I’m heading back this way sometime in early September.

Here’s a peak at our trip so far.

The drive down through southern Colorado to Taos was both leisurely and pleasant, with good conversation. Lots of Colorado prairie land, right out of a western movie, dotted along the way by some small towns.

Bev and I were in Taos twice, in 2019 and again with Marguerite in 2021, and Bev was here once before that with the Baltimore Girls Club in 2002. We really enjoyed this place and its character, and found it and Santa Fe, which we’ll visit tomorrow, refreshing and uplifting.

Kaye and I arrived in Taos around 1:30, with lovely weather again, although once again there was rain in the air. In fact, it did rain, slightly, on and off during the afternoon and early evening. Some dramatic lightning as well, at times.

Kaye and I released some of Bev’s ashes in the main plaza and also in the Kit Carson State Park. We also released ashes at the Rio Grande Gorge, which we visited a little later in the day. We enjoyed this area, and it seemed fitting for some of Bev to stay here. We also visited the Taos Pueblo, as I did with Bev, and I wanted to spread ashes there, but wasn’t able to.

Kaye and I only spent perhaps 35 minutes at the Pueblo, as we got there late in the afternoon and it closes to the public at 4. I was so glad to be here with Kaye, and wish I could have been here with both Bev and Kaye, but being here with Kaye, in Taos and this area that Bev and I enjoyed so much, was important to to me, and felt special. I don’t know why the southwest felt so good for both Bev and me, but it did.

Going up to the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge and the Rio Grande river 600 feet below was exhilarating. Bev and I were here just a few years ago, and it's very clear in my memory (including the rattle snake which scared me off), and being here without Bev was sad. Being with Kaye helped both softened and heightened that memory. I spread some of Bev's ashes here. 

The Rio Grande far below the bridge appeared golden at this time of day, and the photos below actually do a good job of showing that. A golden thread snaking through the deep gorge below. Incredible and beautiful.

After another very nice day we had dinner and headed back to our hotel for the night – and I wrote this blog for the day.

Tuesday, August 13

Before heading out, we stopped for breakfast burritos at a local food truck in Taos, Mary Jane’s, which has a great little selection, right next to a nice little coffee shop (the Coffee Apothecary) and local bakery.

On our way from Taos to Santa Fe, we took the back way down, stopping to visit the Santuario de Chimayo church en route. The main road to Santa Fe is itself beautiful, but this route, known as the High Road because of its higher elevation, is even nicer, taking local back roads that pass through local towns and villages, and the church, nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, is a wonderful place to visit. Bev, Marguerite, and I stopped there when we were last here, in 2021.

The drive to Chimayo, where the church (or perhaps more correctly, the chapel) is lovely, looking out over classic New Mexico landscape.

Chimayo, like the area in general, is a quiet and serene small town set against the mountains, today framed by beautiful and intense blue skies that provide an incredible backdrop. The chapel, Santuario de Chimayo, or sanctuary at Chimayo, was established in 1816. It is a sanctuary indeed, a serene and spiritual place, and a part of a seemingly ageless history.

Kaye and walked around the grounds, which are lovely and well-kept, and I released a little more of Bev here (well, her ashes), because we enjoyed this place so much, nestled away in time, in the small garden behind the pilgrim statue, which seemed an appropriate spot given my own journey. We enjoyed the chapel and surrounding buildings, grounds, structures, and art, as well as the gently cows grazing the field behind the chapel

As we left, we had very thirst quenching Mexican popsicles (mine was strawberry, Kaye’s Mango), and I bought some hot chili pepper from a local store to be hand delivered to Marg when I see her in a couple of weeks, and then headed out on the scenic High Road for the remainder of the ride to Santa Fe, only about 40 miles south.

Coming into Santa Fe, now back on the main highway, is also lovely, with local style adobe buildings of all sizes (including local large casinos and resorts), along the highway and well kept and beautifully kept over passes decorated with indigenous art. Everything is so nice looking, well-presented, and in keeping with the environment and culture.

This is Kaye’s first time in this area, and I really hoped we could build Taos and Santa Fe into our itinerary, not only because the area, and these two towns, are so beautiful (and special), but because of how much Bev enjoyed the region and these towns. BGC (the Baltimore Girls Club) was also here many years ago, and Bev came back from that trip with a love of the area. Another important reason to come visit, and release some of Bev’s ashes, and happily have the opportunity to do that with Kaye.

Our first stop as we came into Santa Fe, because of its proximity to where we were, was Canyon Road, which is the art gallery center of Santa Fe, and an incredible area, with over one hundred galleries of all kinds, but all with incredible (and usually very expensive) art, including paintings, photography, sculptures, and outdoor installations, as well as shops and restaurants and smaller eateries. It is really an incredible street, not more than maybe half a mile. It is also surrounded by incredible homes and grounds. We checked on the price of one home in the area, valued at $3.5 million.

The weather was lovely, again in the 80’s, but the low 80’s today, with some occasional breeze, and later a little rain, and very comfortable when walking in the shade. It’s a helluva street to take in, and wander in and out of the many galleries and sculpture gardens. Because Bev and I (and now Kaye) enjoyed this road so very much, I released some of Bev’s ashes in one of the many sculpture gardens.

My one regret on Canyon Road was not getting into a store called Nathalie, a great clothing and other store, because not only is the boutique shop a great place to visit and browse, but there is a section of indigenous art in the back of the store, and the two times Bev and I previously visited, it featured art by Chessney Sevier.

After Canyon Road, we drove downtown. Actually, everything is within walkable distance in this area of Santa Fe, although maybe a 15-20 minute walk into town, and Bev and I did a lot of walking when we we were first here. In this case, though, Kaye and I drove, and gawked at some of the incredible, and incredibly expensive, homes, and we passed some of the spots where Bev and I walked and visited.

The Santa Fe Plaza is always lovely, and the streets leading up to and surrounding it, are equally nice. The Cathedral and Lorreto Chapel frame the square.

The Santa Fe Trail, start and finish. I was at the other end of the trail just a few days ago, in Dodge City, Kansas.

We finished our day in Santa Fe at the Osteria d'Assisi restaurant, on South Federal. I was very happy to find this place, as Bev and I ate here in 2019 and really liked the joint, and again with Marg in 2021.It seemed, and was, a fitting place to eat dinner. I was very happy to be here with Kaye, even though Bev couldn't be here with us, except in spirit. ❤️   

Wednesday, August 14

Today, we headed back up to Colorado, and things have worked well not taking the Durango and Silverton rail as we originally planned, as it was closer easier to get to Taos from Colorado City, but also because in heading from Santa Fe to Moab, Utah, where we’ll be in a couple of days, we came back through Durango, as the half way point. We’ll stay in Durango for two nights, and tomorrow are booked on the Durango and Silverton rail. That worked out well.

The drive today was around 220 miles, through, again, beautiful and magnificent landscapes driving north and northwest from Santa Fe to Durango. I had definite fun driving the through some great windy and hilly roads, with the car steering tightly and responsively and with plenty of pep. Some fun driving.

We arrived in Durango, a small city of a little over 19,000 people, with an average age of 36 or 37, mid-afternoon, and checked into our very nice hotel, where we’ll be staying for 2 nights, the Adobe Inn. What a really nice city… really nice. As Kaye said, in both New Mexico and here in Durango, and these parts of Colorado we’ve visited, nature and life seems intertwined. Clean and well maintained, nice cityscapes, surrounded by and embedded in gorgeous and often magnificent environments. Durango is one of those places. We loved it immediately.

Before eating dinner in town on a beautiful evening, we walked the wonderful Durango river walking and biking trail that runs along the Animas River and the narrow gauge railroad, picking it up just behind our hotel. What a trail it is. Hard to imagine a more beautiful and serene trail (I’ve use those words a lot, but they’re so apt). It runs along the river, softball field, a lovely library and small botanical gardens, and neat stores and eateries, and has wonderful views all along, with walking bridges across the river, connecting to more walking trails, with easy access to the city streets.

After walking into town on the river trail, listening to some summer outside concerts along the way, we had a very nice dinner sitting outside on this lovely evening, and walked back to the hotel along the trail as the dusk began to fall. I’d consider living in Durango for a while, I think. We both found it to be very welcoming and comfortable. A good day.

Thursday, August 4

Today, all day, was the Durango and Silverton Railroad trip. There are a number of different train journeys departing from and returning to Durango during the day, with plenty of railroad crossings, and the sound of the train horn filling the air at those times, in the valley and mountains, adds to the Old West character of the town and region. The lure of the rail, and the images and feelings it evoke. People of all ages, children and adults alike, sitting on their back porches on in their gardens, along the river walk along which the rails run parallel and close by for a while, wading in the river, taking hikes, or just plain going about their business, constantly waved at us as we left the town and along the valley and returned, as did many cars, honking their horns as the train rolled by. Really nice. The American Railroad experience.

In fact, the railroad, then the Durango and Rio Grande, more-or-less built this town, establishing Durango along the banks of the Animas River in 1880 to serve the mines in the San Juan mountains, where silver and gold, and other minerals, had been found since 1872, leading to settlements like Silverton, north of Durango and well in the mountains.  

The journey started at 8:15 am from the Durango station, and took a leisurely, and bumpy, 3½ hours to through the San Juan mountains, the southern portion of the Rockies, to reach Silverton. We wanted to take the trip by train one way and return by bus, as it seemed perhaps too much to take the same 3½ hour trip back, but instead we took the return trip by train, and glad we did, arriving back in Durango around 5:30 pm.

The day started out on the cool side, and especially as the train chugged into higher elevations, but warmed up to its usual temperature by the time we got to Silverton, only about 45 miles away, but a long, meandering, and twisty 45 miles away. The train first runs along the Durango valley, alongside houses, roads, and the Animas river, but then starts to gently ascend into the San Juan mountains. We started at abut 6,500 feet above sea level, slowly rising to about 9,300 feet by the time we reached Silverton, with of course, gorgeous, magnificent, and awe inspiring views throughout the the entire journey.

We sat in the open air observation car, which was filled with passengers on the right side, and empty on the other side, because it seemed that’s where the best views would be – but that wasn’t the case, and there were wonderful views from both sides of the carriage, on the way to Silverton and back.

As we rumbled along, the roads and valley dropped below us, and we slowly chugged higher into the mountains, the sound of the train horn echoing in the mountains. The downside, unfortunately, was the smell and sight of diesel exhaust spewing from the locomotive stacks.

For a while we wondered how anyone could get this deep into the mountains, but as we rose higher and deeper into the mountains the train stopped several times to pick up (and later to drop off) backpackers, some of whom had spent days hiking and camping in the wilderness. Hardy! These mountains rise to around some 13,000 feet, and we heard several backpackers talk about the 14,000 feet mountains they’ve hiked (or climbed).

At one point, we passed a guy on a zipline, and the train conductor told us he waits for the train, and often does tricks while zip lining, as a way of advertising the business.

We arrived in Silverton right on time (these guys ought to be running the regular railroads), where we took a a 2 hour or so break, to visit and enjoy the town. The town sits at around 9,300 feet in elevation, but dwarfed by 13 and 14,000 feet mountains that surround it.

This entire area is mineral rich, and Silverton is an ex-mining town (not that long ago, and certainly into the 1980’s), sitting in a valley in the San Juan mountains, with a population of about 650 people. Other than one paved road in the center of the small town, the main streets and roads are dirt, and not only evocative of the way things were, but still are here in Silverton.

We spent our time walking around town, looking in some of the local shops, and took a short hike into the surrounding hills, before eating and heading back to the train.

On our short hike into the hills, we met Joy, a very nice local woman, around my age, and she talked about the area and why she moved here from Kansas many years ago, and her son, who is a mountaineer who has climbed many of the local peaks, which she pointed out to us. She talked of her close friend whose husband passed about 3 months ago, and I told of her of Bev’s loss, and the reason for this trip. Another reminder of the inevitability and unfairness of loss, she told me that her husband died just 2 years after they married, some 25 years ago.

Then some lunch, and back to the train. We heard the four long deep whistles of the train, a reminder that it departs in 10 minutes, at 2 pm, which it did, pulling out of the train depot right on the dot, leaving Silverton behind and passing other trains waiting to leave.

The journey back was as beautiful, of course, with different takes on the same wonderful views, as we facing the other direction, and we again stopped several times along the way to drop off and pick up backpackers.

Along the way, the most eagle eyed passengers spotted bears in the mountains several times, excitedly letting other passengers know where to look. We also saw some deer and a fox at one point, but sorry to not see any mountain goats or sheep in the mountains.

And finally back into Durango. Passengers were tired by now, with some napping, including me (and Kaye), but sill elated by the day-long journey through the mountains, and along river and lake views. Drivers once again honked their horns at us and waved, as did locals walking, sitting, playing, and passing by. We waved back, of course. As we pulled into town, the train runs right alongside, maybe 12 feet away, from the river walk, making the train an intimate part of the local scenery and environment, with its deep whistle regularly announcing its presence.

Our final stop before taking a drive in the foot hills surrounding Durango, was the Durango and Silverton Railroad free museum, an eclectic blend of all sorts of things old and more current western, including railroad locomotives and carriages, antique cars, western military exhibits, local wildlife, and wonderful models and train gardens that would make Bev’s brother, Big Ken, envious.

We drove into the high hills surrounding Durango, and saw some very expensive homes, and also passed Fort Lewis College along the rim road overlooking the town. Fort Lewis, formerly a military base, is now a small liberal arts college that follows a 1911 mandate to give indigenous Americans tuition-free education. As we came back down into town, we drive some of the local streets, where we again saw lovely (abend presumably more affordable) local homes in well-kept residential neighborhoods. A lovely town.

Then, a short walk on the river walk to one of the small eateries’ and breweries right off the trail and some dinner, and back to the Adobe Inn for the night. Tomorrow, we head to Moab, Utah, and the Arches National Park.

Friday, August 16

We said goodbye to delightful Durango, and headed north-west toward Moab, about 3 hours away, a mere 160 miles.

As we cross the state line into Utah, the state sign brought back memories of when I first arrived at the Utah state line, in 1976 on my motorcycle (a Honda 500). I recall stopping at the sign, sort of in awe that I, from Finchley, London, had actually reached Utah. Had to take a picture of the sign today!

Coming into southern Utah, the scenery along the highway is flat and uninteresting, but as we move further northwest things change, and mountains, mesas and bluffs start to appear, and as we get more central, toward Moab, where we’re heading, the scenery along the highway becomes more and more dynamic.

We arrived in Moab, a small town of about 5,500 people, around 1:30, a town it seems geared almost entirely for the outdoors, as it really is the gateway to the fabulous Arches National Park, as well as Canyonlands National Park, about 30 miles south-west of Moab.

I’ve been to Moab perhaps four times before, and was in Utah with Bev in 2014. We didn’t visit Moab and Arches on that trip, but instead visited Zion, further south and to the west. But this trip, Kaye and I visited Arches as Kaye was here when she moved across country in 2009, and wanted to re-visit. I plan to visit Zion when I get back this way in a few weeks, and release some more of Bev’s ashes then. Just in case, as a “proxy,” I released some of Bev’s ashes today, into a gentle breeze at Arches.

Everything about Arches is fabulous. Its scenery is magnificent and sprawling, ranging from desolate plains, to mountains and giant boulders and cliffs rising from the desert, and, of course, natural arches. The landscape is vast, with different kinds of rock formations, rock structures, and mineral deposits, as well as areas of vast and desolate prairie land. It’s difficult to select just a few photos to add here, as every picture is worth posting. Even the drive in and around the park is great, even if you never get out of the car.

It was hot, very hot, hovering around 100 degrees and at times a little hotter. We took several short-ish hikes, probably adding up to just a couple of miles, but Kaye found the heat very oppressive, and so we were careful to drink water and ultimately didn’t hike as much as we might on a cooler day. Kaye’s porcelain-like skin color doesn’t like the sun even on cooler days, and at some point we stopped hiking and drove around the park instead, spending about 4 hours there in total.

We headed into town and walked around some, before having dinner. Moab is mostly the main street, and not especially big, but has nevertheless grown since I was last here, with more stores and eateries adorning the main street, and more recently constructed and nice looking hotels and apartments. It was busy on this Friday night, and I guess is that way throughout the busy recreational seasons; you have to have a timed reservation to enter Arches during the summer (which we did), as it is so busy with visitors. But the town is far less busy during the off-season, as our hotel manager told us (who lived for several years in Worcester, Massachusetts, about 90 minutes from Amherst).

To bed now, and Kaye is already fast asleep, I think pretty fatigued, and maybe not feeling so good, from the heat, which she finds oppressive. I kind of like the heat, as it is pretty dry and bearable, but I am also feeling pretty tired from the day. Tomorrow, we have a long journey to Great Basin National Park in Baker, Nevada, and I hope we’ll stop in Sevier, Utah on the way, where Bev and I visited in May, 2014.

Saturday, August 17

Heading to Great Basin National Park in Nevada today, now en route back to Berkeley, to get Kaye back home by the 20th. Kaye’s been a great travelling companion (as well as a great daughter, of course 🧡).

We headed out of Moab, first north and then pretty much due west, toward Sevier County, Utah, on the way to Great Basin in Nevada. We had a bit of adventure on the way (an adventure we didn’t really want).

Needless to say, the roads in western Utah are scenic, to say the least. And with speed limits of 80 mph, we were travelling at around 88-89 mph, and several times int the mid-90’s, and later around 105 mph for a while. The Kia drives incredibly well, even in regular (rather than sport) mode, and handles really well, with very tight and responsive steering. It’s a pleasure to drive it, and much of the way we had the sun roof open and windows down. Very noisy with the windows down, but great, even in the high 80s degree weather.

Our adventure. We almost ran out of gas. We were driving so fast, we were burning through gas, unknown to us until I got a low on gas warning, with the reading that we had 22 miles of gas left. Yikes, we were in the middle of nowhere. Kaye had said, no more than 10 minutes earlier, how bad it would be to get stuck out here. There are no gas stations. There’s nothing.

According to Google maps, the nearest gas station was 20 miles away; the gas gauge said we had 22 miles of gas left. I slowed down to 55 mph, we turned off the air conditioner, we started to immediately conserve gas. However… Google maps was wrong. By the time the gauge read 5 miles of gas left, we were 2.5 miles from the nearest exit… and it turned out, it was about another 12 or 13 miles to the only gas station anywhere around. We got off, and cruised at 45 mph along a long, hilly, and very empty single lane road. we were down to 1 mile of gas left, with 10 miles to go, then the gauge read 0 miles of gas left. We hoped it was wrong. 8 miles left to go, 6, 5, 4, and eventually we were within walking distance of the gas station, but still we were cruising. Needless to say, we made it to the only gas station for miles and miles and miles around. Frankly, we were lucky we were even that close to a gas station at all. After filling the tank (phew!), it turned out that we actually had just about one gallon of gas left (even though the gauge had been reading 0 miles of gas left for at least 9 miles), but who knew that? Only after getting to the station and seeing the gas gauge move from empty to full did we start breathing, talking, and laughing again.

Happy again, we zipped along (at high speed) toward Sevier, Utah. I couldn’t find the signposts that Bev stood under back in 2014, but we were in Sevier County, and headed directly for Sevier, Utah.

It turns out there doesn’t seem to be an actual Sevier town, just a general township, even though it’s signposted, and we did travel along the Sevier Highway in the township of Sevier. We looked and looked, but then moved back onto route 70 west toward Great Basin National Park in Nevada.

One interesting and magical bit of Utah trivia. Sevier County is right next to Millard County (that’s Marguerite’s last name). There’s also a Rich County somewhere in the area.

The skies clouded over as we were leaving Sevier, and we passed through some heavy rain, and saw some bolt lightning action in the cloudy western skies off in the distance. But, aside from a brief period of heavy rain, and some later light rain, the weather continued to be on our side. And then, Nevada, and a time zone change to Pacific time, so we gained an hour.

We eventually reached the turnoff for Baker, Nevada, where the National Park is located, driving a long and empty one lane highway. At times, Kaye, who was driving at the time, was hitting 93-94 mph. That Kia sure can move effortlessly.

Baker really is a one gas pump town (well, two, back to back), with just the pumps and payment method, but no actual gas station. A very small town.

We came into Great Basin National Park, which is a lovely, but whoever heard of it, federal park, which amazingly has no entry fee (although I have my senior lifetime pass, so it would have been free anyway). It also seems family oriented, as they have a lot of free Ranger-led tours and talks, including for kids.

The park is pretty big, but clearly mostly for hiking as there is only one paved road going to the peak, which we drove.

The hike from the peak parking lot, which is about 12 miles from the park entrance, at an elevation of 10,000 feet, to Wheeler Peak is a strenuous several hour 8.4 mile hike, rising from 1,000 to 13,000 feet, which they warn requires stamina. There are some shorter hikes also, but we were there a little too late in the day, as we still had to get to Ely, Nevada, where we are staying the night tonight, about an hour further west. We did walk a little, however, and ran into a couple of interesting older hikers who we talked to a bit. Again, the views are magnificent, from the surrounding Snake Mountains several thousand feet above us to the plains – the great basin – 10,000 feet below. Aside from anything else, Kaye loved the cooler weather near the peak, a real change from the sweltering weather she’s been having difficulty with.

Kaye really wanted to visit the caves at the park, but by the time we returned downhill to the visitor center the caves were closed to the public. Shame, as Kaye was disappointed.

Then about a 50 minute drive to Ely, Nevada, which is really the closest town for lodging. The town ain’t much. It’s really a bit of a time capsule, with the look of a 1940s and 1950s town, sadly with its better days behind it.

Not too many places to eat that looked appetizing. In fact, of the few places to eat, quite a few were closed for the night, or even the weekend; odd, as this is a Saturday night. None looked like anywhere we wanted to eat, anyway, with the exception of one Mexican place, but we instead bought fast food and ate at our hotel, not a bad little place - I picked it because although inexpensive, it was twice the price of some of the other motels in town, and there are quite a few - but none look especially promising, especially driving by them. And then to sleep. Heading for Reno tomorrow as our last overnight stopover before getting Kaye back to Berkeley and her final semester begins.        

Sunday, August 18

Each morning, Kaye has her morning coffee, which of course reminds me of Bev and her morning coffee. Before we head out this morning, this photo, one of my favorites, from not that long ago, in 2019 on our trip to Idaho, with Marguerite.

Just before we leave Ely for Reno, heading across what promises to be a loooong drive across Nevada route 50, called the loneliest road in America, here’s a look at our trip from Denver where Kaye joined me, to Reno, where we’ll be at the end of today, around 1500 miles so far. Me… I hit the 4,000 mile mark sometime yesterday, on the way to Great Basin.

We left Ely, taking route 50, first to Virginia City, Nevada, and from there onto Reno, a journey of about 330 miles. It was indeed a long drive, but good company with Kaye and some great scenery, which did change somewhat along the way, but often beautiful, arriving in Virginia City around 3:30.

It’s not really clear why they call route 50 the loneliest road, because there are several small towns along the 300 plus miles to Reno. Nevertheless, although there’s a fair amount of traffic, much of the time there are only one or two cars or trucks (or motorcycles) along the way. That means long stretches with hardly any traffic, and for the likes of me, that means driving fast. Much of the time, around 85 mph, but at times hitting speeds as high as 110 mph. This car can really move, and accelerates quickly and easily, although at those speeds it’s burning gas. We made sure to fill up in those small towns along the way to avoid yesterday’s “adventure.” 😊

One of those small towns, and a nice little town, is Austin, about 150 miles west of Ely, and close to half way to Virginia City.

We arrived in Virginia City in the mid-afternoon. I’ve been here once before, but forgot how small, and authentic, the town is, with many of the buildings along the historical main (and basically only) street dating back to the 1870s and 80s, and still very much an Old West town in appearance and feel. The main street is paved of course, and back “then” would have been dirt, but the sidewalks remain wooden boardwalks, much as they were in the 1880s.

We headed out of town, and travelled along a twisty and picturesque mountain road, heading down into the valley, and toward Reno. Another great road, but this one definitely called for cautious and slow driving.

Along the way, at a scenic overview, we talked to a guy from Texas, who’s been travelling with his dog in his self-contained van, and he put me to shame. Today, I hit 4,500 miles since I left Amherst 25 days ago. He’s driven 55,000 miles this year, and travelled all across the states. He has no plans to stop. I wondered if he had lost his wife as well, and thought hard about his not having plans to end his trip, but just keep going. It made me wonder about my own future and plans.

I also thought a lot about Bev today, and those last moments, triggered by some music we were listening to. Goodnight, by the Beatles: “Close your eyes and I’ll close mine, good night sleep tight. Now the sun turns out his light, good night sleep tight. Dream sweet dreams for me, dream sweet dreams for you.” Very upsetting, even now, as I write those words. 💔

Reno, it turns out, is a great town, the Biggest Little Town in the World, they say. 😊

Our hotel location, just a guess on my part when I booked it, turned out to be in just the right location, and a few minutes walk from the Truckee River walk, which is another beautifully designed and well-maintained walkway, with great sights all along the way. We first walked by the rather gaudy, but iconic, and sometimes a little sleazy, casino downtown area, arriving within maybe 10 minutes at the Truckee River.

The river walk is lovely, with nice street art and sculptures, nicely designed green spaces, open air theater, and restaurants dotted around the walk.

We ate at a very nice outdoor upscale restaurant, the Wild River Grill, and afterwards continued our walk along the Truckee River, enjoying the open spaces and sculpture garden, as well as the views along the river walk.

After eating and walking, on this very lovely and just right evening, we watched a public open performance at the Pioneer Center for the Performing Arts, which included Mexican and Indigenous dances, as the dusk descended. The colors appear a little garish in the photos below, due to the on stage spotlights, but it gives a sense of one of the performances.

Afterwards, around 9 pm, we headed back to the hotel, and enjoyed the river walk and downtown area at dusk and in the growing darkness.

This is my last overnight on this road trip with Kaye. Tomorrow, we head to Covelo, California, where Bev and I first lived together as a couple (rather than as close and loving friends), and where Bev had her first teaching job, and then back to Kaye’s apartment in Berkeley, where we’ll be tomorrow night. We’ll have a full day of driving tomorrow, but tonight is our last night on the road together. It’s been a great 11-day trip with Kaye, and couldn’t have been better. I’ll be sad when it’s over (and am already), although I’ll be staying with Kaye in Berkeley for a few days before moving on to southern California alone. Still, it’s been wonderful, and Kaye has been a great partner, and a special partner given the loss of Bev.

The opportunity to be with Kaye for such a long and intense time has been been fantastic, and further strengthened our bond. I’m very grateful, and grateful also for the chance to be with Kaye during this period of continued grief and mourning.

Monday August 19

What a long, but excellent, and rewarding day. traveling close to 500 miles today, on the last day of our road trip together. But, first things first. I was very happy to finally find a blackberry pie, which I’ve been looking for in every convenience store since hitting the south west and west. You just can’t get these anywhere else, and they’re difficult enough to get out here. Yum!

We drove almost 300 miles from Reno to Covelo, California, where Bev and I (and our dog, Truck) lived together in our first home as a couple, from 1981-1982. This was where Bev for her first teaching job after receiving her master’s in special education from San Francisco University, and we loved living there, even thoiugh it was so very remote, about 180 miles north east of San Francisco, in the Round Valley, just outside of the Mendocino National Forest, and really in the middle of nowhere.

Getting there was another adventure. Google Maps took us the “back” way in, from the north and east, and the drive in got somewhat harrowing, as at some point, only about 50 miles from Covelo, we went off paved road (and that might be an understatement) for about 45 miles through the Mendocino National Forest. Prior to that, it was slow-ish going, on route 162 west, but was okay. Then I saw a chilling sign that said, “paved road ends,” and it meant it. Sheesh.

It took us close to 2½ hours to travel those 45 miles on what was still called route 162, but was barely what you’d call a “road,” at speeds between 12-17 mph most of the way, significantly slower at times, on completely loose dirt and sand roads high in the Mendocino forest, full of twisty turns with major drops down the mountainside at times, and at times on a road that was more like a wide trail, just wide enough for one car. I locked the car into 4-wheel drive, which was reassuring (somewhat, at least)

The real concern was not the driving, which was very, very slow going, but whether the road would actually get us through to Covelo, or would be closed or become completely undrivable at some point. That would have meant going back the same way, adding hours to our drive. But, happily, it did go all the way through.

Way back, when we lived here in 1981, this route in and out of Covelo, was unpassable as the Mendocino Pass was snowed in year round. But, thanks to climate change, that’s no longer the case, as that’s exactly what we did, coming through the national forest and through the Mendocino Pass.

For a long time, we saw no other vehicles at all, and then we saw some heavy dust, wondering what it was ahead, until we realized it a truck coming the other way, kicking up a pile of dust. It was tight getting by, but not as tight as when a tractor trailer carrying cut timbers came round the bend, like a bat out of hell in a massive sand storm of dust and sand, taking up a lot of the narrow road. Of course, we pulled over as far as we could (but there’s not much room to do that, and little room for mistakes). After that, we infrequently but regularly saw vehicles coming the other way, and as we got further and higher into the forest, we saw people camping in this very desolate wilderness, at designated campsites, even up here. So, we weren’t alone, and that made us hopeful we could through this way to Covelo. We waved at one another as cars and trucks coming the other way passed, kicking up piles of dust (nothing like that logging truck, though), and we were kicking up lots of dust too, making it difficult to see out of the rear window, which was caked in mud. Good thing it wasn’t raining. I can’t imagine what that would be like. The photos below don’t really do justice to just how narrow and harrowing the road was much of the way.

It’s clear there was a major fire in the forest at some point, as for many miles we saw burned out trees everywhere, with some that survived but most just blackened stems. It’s growing back, though. Nature finds a way (from Jurassic Park).

We saw quail along the road a number of times, lots of forest squirrels, large soaring birds flying over head (we hoped not vultures waiting for us), and at one point a magical swarm of dragon flies along the road, flying all around us.

As we got closer and closer to Covelo, we had increased hope that the road would make it all the way through, and we were very pleased to finally see the Leaving Mendocino National Forest sign. We started to see see some homesteads scattered way off the road – this really is living off the grid – but we didn’t fully take a sigh of relief until we finally reached paved road again, still maybe 10 miles from Covelo. Then we started seeing more homes, still rugged, but signs of life.

Unlike, I think, many others, Kaye was never thrown off or unwilling to take the risks that came with this journey through the Mendocino Pass, and just like when we came close to running out of gas, she remained poised, unfazed, and funny throughout our little adventure, although we were both holding our breaths the whole time (figuratively); would we make it through to the other side?

Then, finally, Covelo ahead! Population 1,175, elevation 1400 feet.

The rear of the car was caked in dirt, but definitely now seasoned with its first off road (well, off paved road) trip behind it (literally).

Covelo is not very changed from when we lived here, but I was prepared for the changes that have taken place because Bev and I came to visit Covelo, with our buddy, Steve Shapiro, just a few years ago, in 2016. The main street is bare now, with the few stores that were there in 1981 now gone or in ruins, but the residential streets are much the same, with some newer houses. Photos I took back in 1981-82 show what the main street looked like then, which helped jog my memory of where things were.

The house we lived on in Greely Street is completely gone, which is no surprise as it was sort of a wreck then, but I couldn’t remember where the actual spot was.

We, of course, visited Round Valley Elementary school, as there really wasn’t much else for us to visit here. The special education trailer that Bev taught in back in 1981 is no longer there (happily), but the school is otherwise much the same (although, in a sign of the times, there is now a elementary charter school in town). I taught there as well, as a certified substitute teacher in Bev’s class, when needed.

We scattered some more of Bev’s ashes in town, on Greely Street and at the school, on the fields and by the school sign.

We headed out of town, and stopped on the way at Dos Rios, about 15 miles away, and half way to route 101, which is the main road down to Ukiah and points south. Back in 1982, just before we left Covelo, we had a bunch of friends come up to Covelo for a party (the First Covelo Yahoo and Get Together), and we all went swimming in the Eel River at Dos Rios, where we scattered some more of Bev’s ashes today.

Kaye picked up the driving once we reached route 101, and we zipped the 180 or so miles back to Berkely, while I caught up on some emails and texts. We came over the Richmond Bridge around 8:30, after a long day, and almost 500 miles, and I snapped a couple of shots from the car as we were coming into the east bay before getting to Kaye’s apartment and Kaye was reunited with Cooper, her cat.

Tuesday August 20

Today, and for the next few days, I’ll be in Berkeley, staying with Kaye after our trip together. I went to San Rafael and met Cynthia for lunch, and Kaye and I will be heading to Cynthia and James’ home tomorrow, in Forest Knolls in Marin county, and spending the night, but we wanted to grab some time today as well.

Like this whole area, San Rafael is a nice town with great surrounding views. Even though the area is heavily populated, with lots of traffic (I’d have a hard time living out here for that reason alone), it is beautiful, with lots of great views and architecture. Unfortunately, when driving on my own around here, there’s nowhere to pull over and take shots of the some of the lovely scenery and buildings in the area.

I headed back to Kaye’s and by then it was getting quite later into the afternoon. We headed over to meet Kaye’s very close friend, Allison, who I’ve previously met a few times, as well as other friends, and we spent some time at Allison and her husband Brian’s great 6th floor apartment in the “dog patch” district of San Francisco. t was good to see Allison again, and I enjoyed meeting Brian, who is a professional artist, and teaches art locally, and does wonderful comic book art.

We went to the roof garden of Allison and Brian’s apartment building, which is lovely, with more-or-less 360 degree views of the city, and sat for while in the great late afternoon weather, and talked. Allison’s father recently died, shortly after Bev, and we talked about grief and our experiences. I said that I realize that no matter how much I talk or write or think about Bev, in some way my grief is inexpressible, in that I can’t fully describe or discharge it, and so in that sense it’s inexpressible. It’s always good to talk about it, though, and I really don’t want to ever discharge the grief and the feelings of loss. I want to always feel the loss of Bev.

Brain and Allison accompanied Kaye and me as we visited 1375 25th street in the Sunset district, where Marg and Bev lived, with some assorted roommates, including Sheila Kelly, the 50-foot woman, from 1979-1981. Bev and I have visited here a couple of times during previous visits, and today I released some of Bev’s ashes here, into the bushes in front of the house. This was an important place for Bev, near the corner of 25th and Judah.

We headed to the intersection of Lawton and the Great Highway, by Ocean Beach. Driving to the beach, you can see why this area of San Francisco is called the Sunset District.

The intersection of Lawton and the Great Highway, which is where Bev’s truly beloved dog, Takoma, died in 1979. He was so excited to be at the beach, he ran into a car that was passing. From that time and for eternity, the Great Pacific Highway was renamed and now known to all as the Great Takoma Highway.

Of course, Bev was distraught about the loss, and wrote about it at the time. Bev loved Takoma, who was a great companion and friend to Bev, and loved her right back. He was an idiosyncratic kind of guy, but really special.

I spread ashes at the intersection of Lawton and the Great Takoma Highway and again on the sands of the beach, for both Bev and Takoma. Another important place for Bev. The sunset at the beach was lovely, and we timed it just right.

Wednesday, August 21

Not much today for today. Our plans changed, as we were going to head up to Cynthia’s in Marin county, but she wasn’t feeling too well, so we’ll hopefully head up there tomorrow instead.

I did get my required 7,500 mile oil change and service check at a local Kia dealer (although I’m at around 8,700 miles now), and, happily, they gave me a complimentary car wash (as the car was caked in dry mud on the rear, wheels, and undercarriage from coming through the Mendocino Pass the other day).

It took hours to get the car back, so meantime Kaye and I went out and got a couple of things for her apartment and went shopping. I also took a short walk around the neighborhood as years ago I loved seeing the great front yard gardens on two neighboring streets, Derby and Carleton. They’re not as good now, especially on Derby, so what happened? But there are still some nice looking gardens on Carleton.

Late afternoon, I headed over to Bernal Heights in San Francisco, to visit Steve Shapiro and Gail Williams, who have been living in this working/middle class community since the late 80’s and are very much part of the community, which is exactly Steve’s thing, and always has been for as long as I’ve know him, dating back to C. W. Post, 1973. Steve and I lived together for a while in Hempstead, NY, and our house in Bayville from back then was previously rented by Steve for 3 years, which is how we got that house. Our schefflera plant (a large potted plant), which we’ve had since those Bayville days in 1973-1974, was inherited from Steve, who’d already had it three years or, making that giant plant in our dining room at home about 55 years old. Steve and I go back quite a ways.

It was great seeing both Steve and Gail, and sharing new and old stories, and of course talking about Bev, who Steve knew quite well from way back then and over the years. Steve was one of the people I let know when we thought Bev’s passing was imminent in late 2022, although being the tough cookie she was, Bev said the hell with that and stayed with us for 14 more months.

We went out for an Italian meal, a five minute walk from their home, and that would have been the spot for the perfect photo of the two of them, but of course I forgot, so no photo, which is too bad. As I left, Steve, who is a world class traveler, asked me to keep him posted as he might just come out and join me along the way. And he might!

I do have this photo of Cooper, though, who seems to have adjusted to me well, although you stroke Cooper at your own risk.

Off to visit Cynthia and James in Forest Knolls, tucked into Marin county above Sausalito.