the last of our PICTURES are HERE

HERE!

We wanted to thank you all for staying along with us on our road adventures! We hope you found our blog entertaining and that we've inspired y'all to do the same! Keep in touch, and tell us about your travels anytime - we'd love to hear it.

Yours, Cheese Boy and Maple Girl

Missouri to Ontario - on our way home

The last leg of our road trip was an accelerated one. Both Philippe and I were so happy with what we’d seen and experienced, but with Philippe’s flight back to Switzerland drawing nearer, we decided it was time to head back to Ontario and chill out a bit.

After sleeping in once again in our dark, cozy digs in Crève-Coeur, we said our goodbyes and got back on the road, but not before the obligatory visit to the Art Museum – another worthwhile stop at the gateway to the west (or more like gateway back east). The we crossed three states, not even stopping in Indianapolis with this new drive to be back and resting by the pool.

In Lima, Ohio we found our last motel. In the morning we drove to Toledo, where Philippe had already visited with his roommates from Ann Arbor, to see its art museum. A full circle from Chicago, it seemed – only Phi took me through this one like an expert, knowing which collections we would appreciate, and trying to rush me through a Warhol exhibit which I took my time studying and memorizing. Soaking in our last stop, we climbed back into the toasty Cavalier and headed North over Lake Erie, halting in the beloved Ann Arbor to tie up some of his loose ends and of course buy yet another round of “blue and maïze” cheerwear – if only you’d all heard the exclamations of “go BLUE!” every time we saw a University-print M on this trip; you’d be proud to have such an enthusiastic supporter anywhere!

I let out my own (more muted) hurrah back over the Canadian border, even when we drove kilometres off the 401 just to find a small pizza diner – something about Smalltown, ON still feels more like home than the rest of America. We arrived in Elora in the evening, and ended up fully-clothed in the pool one playful hour into unpacking. For now, we can say with a satisfied sigh, we are off the road.

Love to all. Looking forwards to seeing you soon!

St. Louis, Missouri

It’s hot, very hot here. We’re sweating as soon as we get outside and get exhausted from the shortest walks.

The night we arrived Jason took us to his aunt who lives next door and then out to a typical St. Louis pub on the loop. He also introduced us to his charming parents and his brother and to his mom’s famous tuna salad.

First place Jason took us the next day was the Arch in downtown St. Louis right by the Mississippi. We got our tickets for the elevator to the top but had to wait a couple of hours before we could get on that magnificently designed monument (Finnish deign by the way). Meanwhile we visited the museum of westward expansion, had something to eat and tried as well as we could to escape the burning sun. When it was our turn, we got into these ferry’s wheel type of gondolas that fit five people and take you to the top. Two oversized and not so young women shared our ride. Jason had to comfort one of them since she was terrified of heights and probably claustrophobic, too. He earned us big hugs from them when the two women safely made it down later. From the top the view over the city was great. We got back home and had a thin crust St. Louis Pizza and the famous toasted raviolis.

We got up a little bit earlier the next morning and headed out to the world famous free St. Louis Zoo. This Zoo deserves its reputation such that we had a great time observing all animals. The penguin’s tank was especially impressive since it was inside an open concept where the proximity between the visitor and the animal is impressive. We could have touched the animals if we hadn’t followed the visitor’s rules.

After the Zoo we had a sushi lunch and drove out to the Anheuser-Busch brewery of St. Louis where we enjoyed a comprehensive tour followed by a free tasting of their beers. The free tour was obviously a marketing tool but the free beer just seemed irresistible. After a couple of glasses we met up with John, Jason’s younger brother and drove downtown to the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball game. Even if I still find baseball slow and not particularly interesting it was a fun and exciting experience. The Cardinals won 5 to 0 against San Diego. We got back home rather exhausted from this busy day in the heat but got motivated later for our last night out with our super cool beat-boxing free-styling (and calculated? :-o) host.

Hot Springs to Memphis

Not one to complain about a good massage and steam treatment, I must say the car ride (me as passenger this time!) was exhausting and not long into it we stopped in Little Rock to see the Clinton Presidential Library. Neither of us knowing much about presidential libraries, we scoffed at the admission (but forked it over anyway), grumbling about being students and having to pay to get into a library. As some of you may know, these institutions are more like museums in honour of past presidents, and it was nice to fall upon one from our lifetime and who we both relatively admired. Despite the blatant back-patting, it was a good exhibition, and we continued on to our destination: Memphis, TN.

Looking back on Memphis, we are ashamed at one wrong decision, made upon our arrival when we resolved that we would spend the last hours of daylight at Graceland (yes, Elvis' mansion)
and thus have the whole next morning to browse the Civil Rights Museum at the Lorraine motel, where MLK was assassinated. Although the humble abode of the King were amusing, we would discover the next day that the Civil Rights Museum is closed on Tuesdays; we would never enter its doors and learn more about this piece of history, the little bit that would not have been art-related. It is a sad, sad fact: we chose Elvis over politics and revolution. Woe is the day.

That aside, the night we spent in Memphis was a little anticlimactic. The city seemed slow and dark when we went out for dinner and music - finally, we found Beale Street, but not its BBQ or blues! The street was alive with neon, open cafés blasting mediocre live covers of the great musicians who have past through the gates here, but the tamales Philippe ordered in a diner we'd been ushered into off the street were bland, and our moods fell into the same lack of motivation - there are always nights. Even the horse-drawn carriage chauffeurs didn't have optimistic advice for us, so we called it a night.

After the Martin Luther King disappointment, we headed off towards St. Louis, where our friend Jason eagerly awaited our arrival, where we’d looked forwards to a place to rest since the beginning! Phi will recount the rest.

Dallas to Hot Springs

We got to the Dallas Museum of Art late in the afternoon and met my friends Dorothy and Thomas there. Dorothy works at the museum and was participating in a discussion about the role of women in art that same evening, which we attended and found very interesting. Thomas then took us home to their place where we enjoyed a delicious pizza and talked late into the night.

On Friday morning Kate and I headed out to Fort Worth (following our friends' advice) and visited the Kimbell and the Modern Art Museums. There was an extraordinary exhibit of modern art portraits at Kimbell and a surprisingly creepy exhibit of Ron Mueck's super realistic sculptures at the Modern Art Museum. After this artistically rich experience we drove back to Dallas and got stuck in the daily urban traffic. We met Dorothy and Thomas at the Museum and followed them to some friends of theirs who own a photo gallery. We had a fun time. After an hour or so we drove back home and had a delicious dinner the four of us and a very interesting conversation, too.

The next day, Thomas took us on a full day trip in his car. Since he is an architect most of the tour was about architecture and urban sprawl. He drove us around a nice park near their house, out to the suburbs to see the urban sprawl, then to a beautifully designed Mall, to a new Neighbourhood downtown, past the spot where Kennedy was assassinated, to the remaining buildings of the international fair (modern but almost fascist architecture), through the poorest parts of Dallas and back through downtown to their house. It was so nice of Thomas to take us all day and show us all these things. In the evening we all went out for dinner and Eleanor (their daughter) came with us as well. We had a delicious dinner at an Italian restaurant where we apparently got to see a big Mafiosi boss…

Before we left Dallas on Sunday we had to drive back downtown to finally see Dorothy’s newest exhibition about the Société Anonyme and also the Nasher sculpture garden. Both were great shows. We hit the road eastwards, had lunch at a greasy Texan fast-food on the way and got to Hot Springs, Arkansas as the sun was setting. We built our tent in the National Park, had dinner and went to see the Simpsons movie which we both found mediocre.

Hot Springs is a small city near Little Rock, Arkansas which is famous for two things: it is the place where Bill Clinton spent his boyhood and as its name says there are hot springs that have been attracting people for centuries. In the early morning we got up and went to one of the old Bathhouses on the Bathhouse row. There Kate and I treated ourselves with a ninety minutes Bath/Massage/Spa treatment. We both got out of there relaxed and fresh but as usual we jumped into our Chevy and hit the road for new adventures!

Newly posted Videos

We just integrated a couple of new videos into our blog, check them out.
Grand Canyon
Red Rock Country
Black Waterfall
Me Rocking...
Death Valley
enjoy!

NEW PICTURES

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Don’t Mess With - ...Oklahoma?

On the interstates, to avert Philippe from singing the one verse of the Dallas themesong he knows and repeats, I’ve taken to reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. But my voice faltering and southern accents becoming too typical in Texas, I took over the wheel and we decided to cross the Red River(bed) into Oklahoma for the night. The rain was pouring down so hard we had to pull over a few times, and it was getting late again.

Disclaimer: I write this in my defence – in Oklahoma, the Dustbowl State where natives were marched on the Trail of Tears and whose exodus west during the depression was well-recounted by Steinbeck once upon a time, the roads, as you can imagine, are wide, straight, and pass through endless fields into ghost towns - I mean, true-blue empty, boarded-windows, out-of-business, deserted crossroads. The laws make it so that when you approach these towns, within a mile, the speed limit drops from 70 to 65; to 55 within a kilometre; to 45 within 500 metres; to 35 at the first of three old silos; to 30 at what was once a schoolhouse - and then climbs again as you leave. Of course, I only really noticed this after we got pulled over.

So the black, boxy police car’s lights go on, and he friendly officer informs us he clocked me at 52 in a 35 zone. (“But, I didn’t really realize we were in a town, Sheriff… ahem.”) Now, a’fore y’all go ‘n’ translate that into km/hr, I will mention that he ran our plates and my driving record is CLEAN (-Windekind!)! My smiling charm (hah) must have won him over, since we got off with a warning – or maybe it was because Philippe lit a smoke, asked him about the best motels and if there was a rodeo in town. (I’m not even kidding you). It had to happen sometime, and we were still lucky enough to have a friendly Okie let us off easy.

We continued to Altus, determined not to spend a creepy night in Texas, and ended up at a Best Western where the bubbly receptionist gave us a military discount because Phi is Swiss. (It’s a landing base, apparently!) The creepy thing about that part of Oklahoma was the abundance of jittery cicadas this year – I mean almost ankle-deep in them! – which made you feel like one of the plagues had been brought down on the Baptists. There were even frogs hoping around the motel! To our dismay, the pool was closed this morning when we came down with our suits. But here we are, on the road where we belong, headed to Dallas, TX to meet up with more friends of Phi’s family. I know how to choose ‘em, eh?

Texas-sized love to everyone back home. xo

Four Corners to Santa Fe, NM

Having zigzagged back to Utah from Arizona, we dipped into the southwest corner of Colorado to take the diagonal across Four Corners, the proud place where four ruler-drawn state borders meet – and a fee charged by the Navajo tribe to have to privilege of taking a picture of your limbs starring out from this all-important point in America (and hopefully buy a few souvenirs from the dilapidated stands circling the dial). Feeling only slightly ripped-off, we headed towards the well-named Shiprock, jutting out of the vast dry land of northwest New Mexico. We had decided to go to Santa Fe, legend of artistic community and mixed culture. Coming in to town (surprisingly small for a state capital) its character was evident in the soft-cornered plaster buildings, like wind-tormented sand castles. The Missons (Spanish churches) are distinct in the style, and we rolled though the Plaza, and out again to find a youth hostel.

The grey-haired dude at the counter gave us a speech about independence and “doing our own thing” when we mentioned the facility’s invisible listings… we took a room and listened to house rules, which we would experience first-hand in the morning when we were given “chores” to sweep and take out garbage before getting our key deposit back. Long live communal living. It was a nice idea, though, and we were advised a very good local Taqueria for dinner, where the salsa was hot (no bland tomatoes or the like used in New Mexico!) and the margaritas strong. In the morning we went back downtown to gaze at gallery windows – a lot of native and Mexican inspiration, but colours too vibrant for my taste on the most part. There were exhibitions of Norval Morriseau (a Canadian native I know of) and Georgia O’Keefe, but we passed them by and wandered through the markets, asking about the local woven blankets, baskets, horse-hair pottery and turquoise jewellery. Finally we continued on through the state, to try to make it a ways towards Dallas.

Grand Canyon National Park to Monument Valley

After crossing the Navajo Indian Reservation with thunderstorms surrounding us, we made it to the east entry of the canyon at sunset. The campground there was full such that we had to drive the 30 miles along the rim to canyon village. Their campground was full, too – but at least we’d gotten to see our first dusky view of the magnificent canyon. Not as redundant as we thought the canyons might be getting to our spoiled eyes! We got out of the park and finally found a spot approximately 10 miles south around 10pm at night. First time we didn’t get a spot inside the park at the last minute.

The next morning we entered the National Park and realized that we had spent more on National Park entries than the yearly pass costs. We were able to get the pass for free by showing all receipts of the previously visited parks, which was good. After having set up our tent in a camping ground inside the park, we headed out to the canyon and walked along the rim for several hours amazed by the beauty and greatness of the canyon. A big thunderstorm was approaching and the lightning bolts gave the whole scenery an even more dramatic sense. We reached our car just before rain started to fall and decided to watch the Imax movie about the canyon. The movie was all right but not unforgettable. We spent most of the rest of the rainy day writing and sorting out our pictures.

We woke up at 5:30 the next morning. Kate and I had been added to the waiting list of the Mule ride company the day before and weren’t sure if we’d be part of the trip that was to leave the village at 8. We got to the mules at 6:15 and were happy to find two free spots. After an hour-long introduction to the mules and the safe way to ride them, we each got assigned to one of the world-famous Grand Canyon mules. The guy who gave us the intro was a wild cowboy with a great sense of humor and the ability to captivate everyone’s attention when he told a story.

The mule trail down the canyon was steep, as we had been warned, and the first part would prove to be the most tense, what with having mounted the stubborn beasts only minutes before. We had been given “Mule Motivators” – the politically correct term for whips or riding crops, but Kate and I both found ourselves on animals determined to stay with the group – and Kate’s, to charge ahead. She was also behind another mule who had gas problems the whole day, which made for a few laughs.

The ride was to be almost eight hours long, and the first few were the descent. The four hooves of our rides didn’t make this a leisurely experience – in fact, at times you felt you were holding on for dear life as your legs dangled over the canyon’s side. We stopped for a water break at the Indian gardens at the bottom of the first step into the canyon half way to the Colorado river. We then continued into the boiling hot cacti landscape to the second step from where we could observe the flow of the River. We had lunch there in the shade of a rock and were called back to our mules 20 minutes later because our guides wanted to avoid the storm that was supposed to roll in soon. The path up the canyon was less tiring for us but not for the mules. Every ten minutes we gave them a break and they parked one next to the other facing the valley. Kate’s mule called Gismo then decided to stretch its knees by putting one of his front legs over the side of the cliff, which of course freaked out Kate. I tried to convince her that mules are not very suicidal animals and that Gismo just stretched his legs but that wasn’t much help for her. As we made it back to the top of the canyon I spotted a Californian Condor that was flying just above our heads, beautiful creature. Getting off the mule was a painful experience. We got back to our tents completely content of our day and had a long nap, took a shower and cooked good dinner.

We left Grand Canyon early and headed toward Utah and the Monument Valley. This is a place I didn’t want to miss since it was practically on our way. After a couple of hours driving through the Navajo Indian Reservation we begun to see signs to this famous valley. We drove through it and were amazed by those monoliths and rock formations. We were in Marlboro country.

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Zion and Bryce Canyon (N.P.)

From Vegas we took off eastwards, and since the touchdown with Lenôtre, we would somehow find ourselves swimming in a sea of French tourists, if not amongst Swiss and Germans. The weather had gotten rainy, and at the entrance to Zion National Park it started to pour. We parked our little (nameless) Cavalier and took the free (hah! After entrance fees) shuttle into the canyons, where crimson buttes tower. The driver told us of the worst forest fires of his career, this year, and gestured to the black river, just opaque with ashes. As we came around the final bend, he pulled over and exclaimed “I’ve never seen this before! A black waterfall!” and the Japanese started chattering about the waterfall called Black. In the park, where natural springs spout water four thousand years old, the additional rain had washed out a lot of narrow canyons, closing off hiking trails and starting flash floods and freak falls. The black one had carried the remains of the forest fire up top over the side of a red cliff, in front of our eyes. It was incredible. What our picture can’t convey is the smell – the thick, damp odour of burning that accompanied the wet cinders splattered everywhere. It was a shame to not be able to walk, but boy was it cool!

The sun came out gradually, and we continued on the blood-red paved road to Bryce Canyon, which was a totally different experience – the colours changed to lighter beiges, salmons and peaches, and the spires were just phenomenal. At Sunset Point, we looked into the gigantic, spiked Amphitheatre, and orangey trails leading down into it. We resolved to come back the next day and hike, and continued out to Tropic, where the Bryce Mormons had settled. Settling for us was a bit of a task too; we had to reject a bed & breakfast only to drag owners out of bed to rent us a slight discount on a cabin next to a pizza parlour and highway. The next day we continued east to the Grand Staircase, past petrified forests and more magnificent landscapes, to Escalante for lunch, and back to Bryce for the promised hike (also gorgeous). How could the canyons get any more Grand?

Las Vegas

The City of Sin was never a place Philippe or I had really ever been drawn to, but Nevada being on our way, it was impossible to snub the opportunity. I knew it was even less Philippe’s thing than mine (*embrace the tacky*), but he was a good sport as we crossed the desert, entering from the south and actually really looking forwards to it. I was bowled over by the hotels; how much effort they put into bringing different worlds to Vegas (on an extravagant, wacky scale of course!) – we passed the giant pyramid and sphinx, castles and tropical islands, the Eiffel tower and major buildings of Paris, and finally settled on the skyline of New York (with Statue of Liberty and roller coaster out front) where we took a room on the 20^th floor. I was surprised to have Phi tell me we would have visitors when I got out of the luxurious shower (contrast to camping!) and a few minutes later room service knocked with a dinner tray and wine – how sweet! Already late, we took a stroll down the Strip under the dazzling lights, but gave into fatigue at an early 2a.m. – for the city of no clocks.

The next day we were a bit disgusted at the Strip under the light of day, and as Dave had warned us back in California, the heat and humidity made it so that you simply want to skip from one air-conditioned building to another. The casinos conveniently open their doors to the streets, their cool and over-oxygenated atmospheres pouring into the smoggy city. After breakfast “in Paris” at Lenôtre (we couldn’t resist!), we crossed the flashy advertising outside and dinging slots inside (no winners to witness) and finally found our way to lunch at the Bellagio with one of Philippe’s family’s friends, whose stories of the entrepreneurial American Dream entertained us. It’s always nice to hear about a city from one of its inhabitants, jaded and all!

That night we splurged on a very swank dinner of sushi (a.k.a. vegetable tempura for Kate) in a modern aquarium-looking place – fresh fish in the desert, and an impressive quality of restaurants all around, I have to add. Determined to see a Show, we settled on the Cirque de Soleil’s new “Zumanity’, since the well-reviewed “O” was sold out and we could see this one in our own hotel. We were both excited and it proved to be flashy and colourful as expected, but much more sexual, almost on an obscene level (and we’re no puritans). The conclusion was it could have been more cirque and less strip, but I was still in awe of the acrobats, extreme dancers, contortionists, trapeze artists and risqué costumes and language.

Across at MGM, we had drinks at the Centrifuge, a bar that was flashy without the $20 cover of most clubs. (Yeah, we’ve blown our budget a bit…) Our waitress was a sweetheart who “had to go dance” (on the bar) in the middle of taking our order, so we chatted with her afterwards and found out she’s from Ann Arbor; her mom’s a prof. at U of M! So Mr.-King-of-Coincidences-Blum is just over the moon, and it took her only my 5-minute washroom break to buy Philippe a drink. Yeah, I’M writing this entry. No bitterness. J

Our 10’000 foot drop in height from Yosemite to Death Valley National Park

Our first drive into Yosemite National Park was less impressive than the one in Yellowstone, since we didn’t get to see Wildlife on our way to the campground. Once again we arrived at the campground pretty late and were lucky to find a free spot at dawn.

After a cold but good night of sleep we headed toward Glacier point from where we enjoyed a breathtaking view over Yosemite Valley, the Monoliths and the famous Half Dome. We soaked up as much from this scenery as we could and drove down into Yosemite Valley while the rain was beginning to fall. Inside this Cliff surrounded Valley we took a short hike under the rain to the dried up Mirror Lake from where Anselm Adams took some of his famous shots of Yosemite. We got back to our tent and gathered wood before returning to Glacier Point to witness a beautiful sunset on the Half Dome and the Valley. The next morning we were horrified to hear from the ranger that a very young French girl had gone missing outside the campground while she and her brother played in the forest. A rescue team was on its way and as we left the campground we scrutinized the roadside for this girl. We hope they found her before the night rolled in.

Yosemite is a big park too such that it took us several hours to get from our campground to the east exit at the almost 10’000 foot (3030 m) high Tioga Pass. A beautiful ride of course. From Tioga pass our road to Death Valley was almost constantly descending. We stopped at a delicious Dutch Bakkery in a “shoot-yourself” town on the road.

Then we begun to see Joshua trees and the landscape turned into a boiling hot desert. Unexpectedly a valley opened up inside the valley we already were. And behind this valley was an even deeper one, Death Valley. We had to turn off the AC in order to avoid overheating as we speeded across the valley at 280 feet below sea level. There were many dark clouds in the sky, which gave the valley even more character as their shadows run across the dunes and rocks. It was past 4pm and the sunrays lit the red rocks and shimmered on the sand dunes through the clouds. That’s when the first signs to Las Vegas appeared.

Leaving the Pacific coast

As Kate already accurately described, our time in Malibu was very much worth the “detour” from our original route.

Kate and I never felt much attracted to LA before deciding to hit Malibu but since one of the most gorgeous strip of Highway one is the Monterey coast between San Francisco and LA and since we had a good friend inviting us to stay in Malibu we changed our minds. And we both are very glad to have done so.

Malibu would not have been half as much fun without Spyder showing us around and introducing us to his friends and family. We would not have found the attractions in our little cavalier.

After a long night of sleep and a lazy waking up, Spyder took us for a late afternoon burger at Johnie Rockets in Santa Monica. Britney Spears was giving out autographs at the Urban Outfitter of the main shopping drag there and the crowd was not what we would have expected; no crying teenagers but a more eclectic group.

Then Spyder continued his perfectly planned sightseeing program by taking us to the biggest freakshow ever which is to be found on the boardwalk of Venice beach and trust me, this is not a place you want to be around when the sun is set. Leaving after having observed the beginning of a furious family fight, we headed to a much more familiar crowd at the Getty foundation. Many people had the same idea of visiting this museum (which is open till 9 pm on weekends) because there was a music festival going on outside the buildings on the plaza overlooking LA. Too bad the city was covered by a rather thick fog which made us miss a probably magnificent sunset view. We took a short but efficient tour of the art exhibitions that interested us and were especially impressed by Manet’s “Bar at the Folies-Bergere” which makes you reflect on the Artist’s idea of perspective. We headed home rather tired and enjoyed a simple but good dinner accompanied by a good bottle of Californian whine.

On Sunday I got a second chance to proof my surfing skills and to motivate Kate to try this fun sport. Both of us were pretty successful for rookies. Spyder also tried to have us catch fish from our surfboards for our dinner but nothing bit our bait (Kate did catch a Sea Slug I didn’t get to see). We continued our sightseeing tour and headed back into LA to the LACMA museum which unfortunately was rebuilding big parts of the building such that there was almost no modern and contemporary art to be viewed. On our way back to Malibu Kate had us stop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Our last night with Spyder’s in Malibu was celebrated eating deliciously prepared grilled shark and swordfish and great talks.

We left the coast this morning, had our laundry dried somewhere on the 99 north (J Spyder) and are currently entering Yosemite National Park for some new camping adventures.

made it to MALIBU!

Indeed we have made it to Malibu! This afternoon we might ride down to Venice Beach and L.A., but let me describe our time so far!

We spent a night in San Luis Obispo, where the hostel host sent us downtown to the “farmers’ market”, which seemed to be a very swanky street roped off for restaurant stands, at least after dark when we arrived. We treated ourselves to a huge shared meal of Moroccan cooking and went to bed late, to be practically kicked out the next morning when we dragged our feet.

Philippe had met Dave in Michigan, but we’ve since discovered that he goes by Red (for his hair) with his California friends, and Spyder (his middle name) by his family! We parked in town, which is actually a 26-mile strip of beaches and some food shacks, and little strip malls where Britney Spears was known to hang out before she went white-trash-crazy. Dave took us straight to the beach, his second home, where he knows all the lifeguards, and started the promised surf lesson with Philippe! It looked way too balance- and arm-intensive for me!

At a stoplight on our way to Dave’s house, a blonde in large sunglasses in a gorgeous convertible was stopped kiddy-corner to us; some photographers went up to her and took a few shots, and we realized then it was Paris Hilton, seemingly sober at the wheel. Phi and I try to play it cool, seeing as she was at the club we went to that night anyway!

That was only the start, as we followed Dave’s pickup with surfboards in the back up the canyon past the security gate, gazing up manicured drives and gardens, mansions well out of sight. Dave pointed out the Gibsons’ (as in Mel) and we pulled into his drive just before the Grammars’ (as in Kelsey).

Dave’s house is warm and bustling in the evenings, what with his many siblings and their friends hanging out with television, and Mom’s very good cooking, with which we stuffed ourselves even before starting the grill for steak & shrimp… life is good. We made a night of piña coladas and went to see a true rock & roll band at a club, the Malibu girls just as you’d picture them (plastic surgery and all). Met Christian Gibson, who has his dad’s eyes but the most laid-back, cool personality – it was so neat. What a night! Even coming back, people piled back to the house in the spirit of pool and jacuzzaing, but we headed off to bed, where we stayed until noon. Another day of gorgeous sunshine under the palms.

Keep checking out the picture album, we've added some more! Today we're heading back north to Yosemite, saying goodbye to our host Dave, maybe to see him again this weekend in Vegas! We'll update again soon. xo

PICTURES!

Berk'ley and Frisco

Good morning! Writing from Berkeley, California. Friends of Philippe's family have kindly taken us in for a couple of nights, so we rose bright & early for breakfast with them today - something made sweet by good nights' rest in a real bed.

Since we last wrote, we've (obviously) made it out to the Pacific coast and down through half of California. We spent one night at a truck stop motel in Oregon, and were quick to leave in the morning, across the river to Washington, fresh fruits from a roadside stand, and around Mount Hood, which was really pretty!

In Portland, we stayed at a funky youth hostel, very organic and tree-huggy, like the city itself. On our street we enjoyed a British comedy over pizza and beer (in-cinema!) and left for the coast the next day. Portland is a comfortable place, but probably more interesting if you know a local to show you around!

We have invented some interesting dishes on the road. One of our favourites so far was a chocolate fondue: take one box of Lindt 70% thins and leave in hot car for extended period of time. Dip fresh black cherries. Or, smoked bread: our attempt at toasting over a campfire. It's been interesting! We've taken to calling these things the Adventures of Cheese Boy and Maple Girl. A new name for the blog?

Once on the beautiful coast, we passed Newport and found a campground (actually, shared a site) deep in some mossy woods, up a creek (no pun intended). The host was a loud, self-described redneck who took it upon himself to unite the campers into a latenight party, which ended up convening around our firepit. A group of hippies back from some newage freak festival joined in for s'mores, and we met three Swiss guys who are on a similar roadtrip. It was nice to meet some new people!

The following two nights we continued south, hugging the seashore more and more - Cape Blanco juts out from the 101, and we enjoyed a nearly-empty beach (<- see Phi run!) at sunset, and an unplanned private tour of the lighthouse perched on the cliff in the morning. Then we found a site literally on the beach in the Redwoods park, where we'd driven under towering 300-foot canopies and past 15-foot tree trunks - it's hard to put yourself on that kind of scale! From that site we also took a lovely walk through Fern Canyon, and saw more elk up-close, which seems to be normal out here!

So here we are, amongst more and more palms, although the weather has cooled off. We are so lucky to have such sweet, accommodating people putting us up at the last minute! Yesterday we spent in San Francisco, taking a boat tour of the Bay, and meeting up with the Swiss guys for a rock concert in the evening. We've decided to continue south on the coast, probably to see another friend in Malibu! In the meantime, we may make it to Monterey and get tent-pitchin' again.

Thinking of you all back home, and hoping your summers are going well!

SEE MORE PICS!

Second Photo Album!

Yellowstone National Park

I must admit that I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the world’s oldest National park. Even if I had heard that the wildlife there is amazing I was worried that the mountain landscape would look much like Switzerland and that I would therefore not be greatly impressed by the park. Not because I don’t appreciate the Alps but simply because I am used to them. However, my doubts turned out not to be justified whatsoever.

Kate and I entered Yellowstone from the East entrance, leaving Cody after a great American breakfast at THE packed local diner called “our place”. Before passing the gates of the park our Chevy took us through the Buffalo Bill State Park where we got our first glimpse of the mountains surrounding a magnificent artificial lake.

First thing you do when you enter the park is to secure a camping site since most of the grounds attribute their spots on a FCFS (first come first served) basis. We asked a ranger for the most beautiful and remote campground and got directed to the North Eastern part of the park, where the night before our Motel manager had told us most of the Grizzlies were to be found.

Yellowstone is big, huge indeed. You have to realize that it took us over 2 hours to get from the east (not south) entrance to the Lamar Valley in the North East and that over the three days we spent in the park we drove more than 400 miles (640 km)! The roads are good but once in a while you get stuck in a jam created either by an Elk, Bison, Pronghorn or a Bear crossing the road or strolling within photo-opportunity distance. On our way to the camping ground we sighted two magnificent mule deer, hundreds of Bison with calves, an American White Pelican and hundreds of Uinta Ground Squirrels. (The only other place I’ve been where you could see such a high concentration of animals in close distance are the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador.)

The Lamar Valley (where the Lamar river flows) was our “home” for the 2 nights we spent in the park. From a distance this valley reminded me of the Saanenland (a valley close to Gstaad, Switzerland) because of its largeness and hilly mountains. The only big difference is that Bison are grazing the river plain along with pronghorns and deer, which makes you feel like in a Kenyan Safari (at least that’s how I imagine a Safari…). The other difference, which impressed me most, is the idea that as far as your eyes can see, the landscape is completely natural and virgin. Nothing disturbs the peace of nature there, which is an extremely rare sight when you think about it.

Driving along the Lamar river towards the rather remote northeast entrance there were two campgrounds from which the first was already full by the tine we arrived there. The second one, Pebble Creek, had one camping site that was waiting for a small car and tent like ours. We met the ranger in charge of the site and I must say that these national park rangers are absolutely charming; friendly, helpful and patient. Even when there were jams on the roads because an animal was near the road and everybody was just parking their car or RV on the often nonexistent shoulder of the narrow mountain roads, the rangers kept their tone friendly while asking people to move their vehicles to designated parking areas and not to approach the wildlife.

Our campsite was neat and since we were right in bear country all our cooking equipment, waste and dishwater had to be carefully put away after every use.

The nights up there were cold but beautiful. The starry sky made us understand how people recognize the divine element above us. Even in my supposedly very warm Mammoth sleeping bag I had to wear warm cloths and when the moon started to rise and the temperatures dropped, Kate was glad to have me roll on top of her in my cocoon as a human heating blanket. She had a ten-buck sleeping bag from Canadian Tire and a couple of blankets. The Campground had an outhouse and no showers such that we didn’t shower for 3 days. No worries, people who’ve been at bug camp (:-) VK) will confirm that this doesn’t have to be a smelly experience. Wood gathering around the camp was also an experience for itself. One night, on our way home from a day of hiking/sightseeing we stopped at the entrance of our small camping valley to find dead wood and froze on our way into the woods at the sound of a low moan coming from behind the trees. As a very law-abiding Swiss kid I backed up and decided not to bother whatever was behind the trees. But behind us was a group of Harley bikers who, as soon as they saw us frozen half way to the woods, got interested in what we’d heard. They went right in, not showing any respect for the thing we probably ended up scaring away, but at least they proved us how tough they were…

On the two full days we spent there we saw a big part of the park and enjoyed some of their trails. Our Motel manager back in Cody had really confused me on what a national park was all about. He’d made it sound as if hiking in the park (without a gun) was risking your life and he did that in a convincing fashion but our camp ranger described this discourse as the “Montana Mentality”. Caution is always necessary but paranoia is completely unnecessary in this case. So we got to hike up Mt. Washburn, an amazing panorama at the top and along the hike.

I’ll let Kate continue!

...

The first evening we’d gone up to Mammoth Springs, the hot springs that form travertine terraces and bleed ochre minerals which give the park its name. The Canary Spring was particularly spectacular; it steamed and overlooked the mountains and steps of ice-white calcium deposits. I’d never seen anything like this kind of volcanic phenomenon. We touched base outside of the park in Montana to buy essentials and on our way back, bathed in a river whose glacial water’s edge had been taken off by the hot springs emptying into it. A sunset swim is always a favourite of mine! To top it off, on the way home we had a relatively close encounter with a male grizzly, who’d been sighted by a couple others pulled over on the edge of the valley. It was wonderful to watch him through our binoculars (thank you, Dad!) as he foraged for roots (we think). The next day, we would see a mother and her cubs playing under a tree from a distance – thankfully!

In fact, the park alternates between burnt forests (damage from a natural fire in 1988 that’s still remarkable), grassy valleys, and desert-like plains with hearty shrubs. Even more drastic was a trail we tried to take on our third day in the park. Our second night, we’d moved to a site further back on the grounds (again, the hospitable rangers!) and Phi taught we to wrap layers of bedsheets inside my sleepingbag (and I was the girl guide!) Still, we couldn’t seem to leave the campsite early enough! We headed across to the southwest this time, putting more miles on, and found the path, which first passed some basins, then a new-growth forest reminiscent of a Christmas tree farm! Philippe’d spied some velvety antlers of a sleeping buck amongst the trees, and we stood on a log to see him, and he woke and looked at us, only metres away, so noble. It was such a zen moment. The path then took us to Fairy Falls, tall and slender, and after wading into its pool, we agreed to finish the loop, which was to be about eight miles in total. The ground it crossed was arid and the sun scorched us; the plants dwindling off and the evil flies grew aggressive. Finally, the path faded, and although we saw a marker ahead, the trail seemed to be flooded, forming a hot swamp with a thin volcanic crust covering it. It was hard to decide to turn back, but it’s what we did!

We’d decided to get to Grand Teton that night, so we stopped to see Old Faithful, a large geyser, which went off after only a short wait, and was pretty incredible! We paused at the Yellowstone Lodge – a great log structure with massive stone fireplace – and ate two of the largest scoops of ice cream I’d ever seen (each). We then forwent Morning Glory pool (which we’d affectionately started calling the Glory Hole) and drove out of the park, zigzagging across the continental divide (!), arriving only in time to see the sun set on the Teton range, and to see that the best campsite was full, of course. (We’re geniuses.) Finally, we edged into the last vacant site we found in the dark, and sure enough, halfway through inflating the mattress and pitching the tent, its rightful owners came by to claim it – then almost immediately offered to let us stay there nonetheless. It was a sweet relief! We still ate beans, despite the free ride. In the morning we decided to take a “short pleasant” hike to Hidden Falls, which ended up being long and the falls mediocre, but still whimsical through the forest – and a notably glorious swim in a quick-moving river just before it emptied into the lake on our way back. (Either I am especially immune to cold water, or Philippe is too hot-blooded! *coughwimpcoughcough*)

We both loved the mountains – some of America’s real beauties. They rise up suddenly and sport relatively smooth rock face, and only small bits of glacier snow. Philippe keeps testing grip of the stone and gazing longingly at climbers dangling above us – I’m sure he’d rather be with you at times, Paivo! (nowayinhellI’dgo) We left and drove through Jackson Hole and along the Snake River valley, to Idaho (no, YOU-da-hoe!), where we found another campsite, this time early enough to settle in a bit. And take long hot showers. It’s hot and dry, so the grime just sticks. This morning we took off (after a HUGE breakfast at Denny’s…. we split the Lumberjack platter and were both stuffed) across the state, making yet another intelligent detour north when neither of us caught the highway turnoff. (Debate: is it the driver’s job, or the navigator with the map in his hands’?) :P In any case, we took some extra time getting to Craters of the Moon, but I found it interesting. I’d never seen the black, airy lava formations – the frothy molten stuff had made weird shapes, but the air quality hindered much of a view. We continued on, and are now, I’m proud to say, on the highway in Oregon, on our way to the Columbia River, our goal for tonight! So we’ve crossed three time zones, winning hours all along – we’re on Pacific Time now! Thinking we’ll be on the coast in no time is amazing – although everything in between has been so great so far. Still high on life. xo

From the Black Hills of South Dakota to Cody, Wyoming

After having seen the huge Crazy Horse being sculpted in the granite of the Black Hills we drove down the scenic Highway 14 to Spearfish where we took a break at a coffee shop and wrote our blog and emails. The reason why these hills are called black is simply because the green colour of the pine trees appears almost black from a distance. Somehow the green is darker there than elsewhere.

Our goal yesterday was to get to Wyoming, the cowboy state and then as far west in the state as possible but at first it seemed as if we were not going to get far at all. Indeed, instead of taking the Interstate 90 west we got lost back in the Black Hills. The road we accidentally took led us through a magnificent canyon with waterfalls and cliffs on both sides. When we finally realized that we were heading south instead of west we found that the shortest way to correct our error was to drive down the road we had come from. Back in Spearfish a couple of hours later we finally found the highway and started heading west.

The landscape of the Wyoming plains is not comparable to what we had seen before; Endless hilly grasslands with small canyons and cows grazing here and there. These fields were much greener than the plains of Minnesota and South Dakota.

...continued from Phi's last post

The sudden downpour of massive droplets on our scenic detour had given our Cavalier a much-needed wash, and at the advice of the woman who gave us directions in the saloon, we filled up the tank before taking on the state of Wyoming. Good thing. Besides 1 of every 3 stations being deserted anyway, the vastness of the landscapes was overwhelming.

Neither of us can get over how quickly the scenery changes! We may be driving far and constantly, but still – the voyage through Ten Sleep Canyon changed from red rock outcrops to stratified cliff faces, then could drop off into farmlands of grazing black cows with no building in sight all the way to the distant horizon. Usually you can count the trees in these immense fields on one hand. There we drove into a distant purply-pink sunset last night, dulled behind a blue-grey veil of rain that stretched 180 degrees. It was eerie.

The wildlife we’ve run into has been impressive, too! Next to the cows deer will graze – does, stags, fawns – and we’ve come within metres of mountain sheep with their huge curving ram-like horns.

Now, when we go through a town with over 1000 people, it’s a bit of a deal! (The state has 490’000 people total - !) Populations will be listed to the individual – and the last “village” was Emblem, WY: pop. 10. Not kidding you. This after no signs of life (powerlines, nothing!) for ages, when our car would drift up to speeds of 100 m/hr (don’t convert that to km, Mom & Dad!)

The roads are surprisingly wide and smooth, and we’ve only spotted one tumbleweed so far, back in SD. The weather has been HOT. Why have we not mentioned that before? Usually when we write we’re in blessed air conditioning. But I’ve had to be forced to slather on the sunblock twice a day! Luckily it gets cool at night, a break for the arid fields too, which sport cacti and tufts of scrubby grass, and we’re never sure how recently they’ve been touched.

Now we’re out of fossil country, and into cowboy territory, shared with bikers who wear Harley bandanas and no helmets (not since Michigan it seems!). The locals really do sport gallon hats and boots to match. You wonder if we’ve driven back twenty years some times, a hundred at others.

So we drove clear through to 11pm last night, and finally found a motel – the Grizzly Bear, whose owner succeeded in scaring the @$#&?! out of us regarding bear encounters and how much we should beware! So if we don’t become lunch on our next hike, we’ll let you know how Yellowstone is, at the foot of the Rockies!

Love, K

some Chicago Jazz!

(Sara, you'll appreciate this more than most!)

We've posted a video of the drum solo from the concert we saw at the Green Mill of the Patricia Barber Quartet. This guy blew us away!

xo

to the Black Hills of South Dakota

After coming out of the trippy landscapes of the Badlands, Philippe and I have made it into he Black Hills - the vast prairies that separate them bring to mind the natives that once roamed here. Our first tenting experience was pleasant, although the proximity to the interstate made for the interruption of an otherwise very silent and star-filled evening. We had no idea when we ate or slept, and woke to pack to the sound of the gang of Harleys next ground over taking off at dawn. After breakfast and packing the car, we finally looked at our cell pone: barely 8am. Off we went!

I had braved a small hike in my ballerina slip-ons and it was decided that running shoes were a must, so that took a (notably efficient, thankyouverymuch!) stop in Rapid City for lunch before continuing on to Mt. Rushmore! I had mixed feelings about the whole thing, what with the natives we’d been thinking so much about… and the Fourth of July flags are still flying proud. The faces of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln loomed before us and we drove up to the mountain face, parked ($$$) and were led to the lookout under the flags of all fifty states.

It was touristy; Phi bought an extremely tacky snowglobe, which we cherish very much, and we felt like calling it a day, putting on a few more miles to find another camp site, a little more secluded this time. We haven’t gotten into the beans yet! But after a somewhat botched attempt at “campfire pizza” last night (yeah we’re amateurs) we did pasta. And, I’m ashamed to say, watched download episodes of Grey’s Anatomy. How outdoorsy of us! (no comments.)

This morning, Crazy Horse was our goal – a huge in-progress project of the native war chief on his horse, being carved into another face just miles west of Rushmore. He points at “my land; where my people are buried”, and although the museum was unimpressive for the entrance fee, the project is inspiring and we were happy to have made the stop. Now we’re heading into Wyoming, and hope to make it to Yellowstone tomorrow. Wild West, baby! xo

CHECK OUT OUR PICTURES!

go to this link to see what shots we've uploaded so far. We'll let you know when we post anything more! xo P&K

From the Black Hills of South Dakota to Cody, Wyoming

After having seen the huge Crazy Horse being sculpted in the granite of the Black Hills we drove down the scenic Highway 14 to Spearfish where we took a break at a coffee shop and wrote our blog and emails. The reason why these hills are called black is simply because the green colour of the pine trees appears almost black from a distance. Somehow the green is darker there than elsewhere.

Our goal yesterday was to get to Wyoming, the cowboy state and then as far west in the state as possible but at first it seemed as if we were not going to get far at all. Indeed, instead of taking the Interstate 90 west we got lost back in the Black Hills. The road we accidentally took led us through a magnificent canyon with waterfalls and cliffs on both sides. When we finally realized that we were heading south instead of west we found that the shortest way to correct our error was to drive down the road we had come from. Back in Spearfish a couple of hours later we finally found the highway and started heading west.

The landscape of the Wyoming plains is not comparable to what we had seen before; Endless hilly grasslands with small canyons and cows grazing here and there. These fields were much greener than the plains of Minnesota and South Dakota.

Badlands

The road from Sioux Falls to the Badlands crosses the territory of Laura Ingalls from the Little House in the Prairie as well as the filming grounds of Dances with the Wolves. The highway is pink from the colour of the rocks in that region. At one point highway 90 that runs from east to west of South Dakota in an almost perfectly straight line (our chevy was flying at speeds over 120 km/h) disappears in a small valley created by the beautiful Missouri river. The landscape suddenly changes from a perfectly flat prairie to hilly grasslands with no tree in sight. Phenomenal.

After having set up our tent in a camping ground 3 miles from the Badlands National Park entrance and after Kate had realized she had forgotten her sneakers in Sioux Falls, we headed out to the mysterious Badlands.

Those of you who have read the adventures of Tintin, the famous Belgium reporter and have seen dances with the wolves will be able to somewhat imagine the scenery that appeared in front of us. Take a typical landscape from the movie and combine it with the comic’s moon landscape and you will see something close to what lies out there.

made it to South Dakota

Here we are, another bright & beautiful day on the road. Are we ever glad to have air conditioning. And we haven’t headed south yet!

Now on the other side of the Mississippi, we made it last night to a hotel in Sioux Falls, after a little searching (it had changed names since we last checked) and headed out to see the town, the falls in particular. The city was alike to one big long strip mall, commercial bigbox stores extending for miles around… well, pretty much nothing but a tiny downtown! The park was noteworthy, though – the river’s stench turned us both off (Philippe more so) when we parked, but if you can put it aside, the water pouring over pink granite formations was so pretty! It was Amish area, and we came to the amateur conclusion that this was the Big City for farmers from the miles and miles (and miles) of flat farms that make up Minnesota and Dakota. We crossed a group of good ol’ boys in plaid flannel shirts, parted combed hair, freckled faces; just laughing in straw hats and jeans while they whizzed around in a golf cart. It feels like America!

After more searching and a suitably disgusting dinner at KFC (never again), we found the Fairgrounds and just in time for a magnificent display of Fourth of July fireworks. Both of us were like wide-eyed children, oohing and ahhing! We made it back narrowly missing pooltime.

This morning, we made our way back onto the I-90 around 10:30, and have made our first (and only) stop at Mitchell, SD – for groceries, but mostly to see the World’s Only Corn Palace. Drew a new conclusion: too much corn, so make a palace? Apparently, this has been going on since the 1800s, with Indian corn mosaics covering a building reminiscent of Arabian Nights, although having become a little less classy since back in the day. It was an…. interesting attraction!

Now, we drive west across more prairies, to see the Badlands this evening! Highway billboards announce trading posts, Wall Drugs (we’ll elaborate when we see it!) and Mount Rushmore, already! Another day of adventures. xo

Independence day

We are currently cruising through the southern plains of Minnesota on Interstate 90 after having taken a short break on the Mississippi river in La Crosse, Wisconsin where Independence day celebrations were entertaining the people. After waking up in our charming room of the HI in downtown Madison, the city was ours to discover. Crossing Capitol Hill and the Capitol building itself for a breakfast and a Wisconsin 10 yeart old cheddar purchase on State street we drove to the UW campus and visited the Chazen Museum of Art. Note that while I was searching for the best cheese to buy from the cheesery, Kate passionately tasted each single cheese that was sampled there. Highway 14 led us to the birthplace of Frank Lloyd Wright and to the location of his most personal works in Taliesin. A short stop at the visitor’s centre built by Wright was enough to give us some background about him and Taliesin. We got a glimpse of the hill where his organically designed houses are standing, got back on the road and had a farmers market snack while crossing the beautiful hilly Wisconsin landscape. Our next stop should be Sioux Falls in South Dakota in roughly 200 miles.

Welcome to our newly baptized blog, Kate & Philippe’s Road Trip through America!

On Monday morning, July 2nd, after celebrating Canada Day and packing the car in Elora, ON, we drove West on the 401 through to Windsor and over the border into the U.S.A.

We took one long stop in Indiana at the Dunes, which were warm and very majestic, bringing lots of children to the beach of Lake Michigan. (It almost makes you wonder why we go to the Caribbean for soft sand!)

We continued on to Chicago IL, a city Philippe’s seen a few times lately - but it was first for me! We lucked out at the youth hostel, scoring a private room with its own bathroom. We walked over to the Hancock building where an elevator whisked us up 96 floors to have drinks looking over the dazzling city of skyscrapers, and never-ending lake. Over cocktails, we watched the sun set and the buildings light up, then found our way to the Green Mill, a jazz club that was once Al Capone’s favourite speakeasy. There we saw the Patricia Barber Quartet, a wild bunch who blew my mind, even though we both were struggling to keep our eyes open!

After a deep sleep back "home", we had an early hostel breakfast and headed out in the hot sun to the pier, where we boarded a riverboat cruise for an hour-and-a-half-long Architecture Tour. It was interesting - what an innovative, modern city! Afterwards, we made our way through the Food Festival, and were running out of parking time, so decided that I would go to the Art Institute of Chicago on my own, while Phi took care of groceries, bags and the car. (Yes, I’m spoiled.) I was amazed by the collection - every artist I know and love had a masterpiece in the permanent exhibition it seemed, and the temporary show was of Jeff Wall, a Canadian photographer whose work I’ve seen before. It was a fabulous place, and I left Chicago a happy passenger.

Philippe drove us here to Madison, where we were shocked to see the huge Capital Building looming in front of us in the city centre. Now we hope to see some more art collections, the supposedly gorgeous university campus, the lake, and get ready to hit up another couple of States on our westbound Fourth of July!

Love & Respect, xo