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Welcome to the "On the Road Again" Blog

We like to remember the places we have been and the things we have done, and this is our way of keeping those memories alive.

The most recent entry always appears first, so to read the story of a trip from the beginning, you’ll need to start at Day One. The easyist way to do this is to scroll down the left panel and select Day 1 of any trip. At the end of that post there is a link on the left to "Newer Posts". Clicking that will take you to the next day.

I've started linking to some of the places we've liked along the way. If text is blue in a post, a click will take you for a visit. Simply close that screen to return.

To save space all photos are posted in a small version. Any photo can be clicked for a larger version.

This page is always on top, so the above date isn't important.

Comments are always appreciated and thanks for stopping by.

Day 10 - Barstow, California to Home

Since it was going to be a short driving day, we took our time packing up and loading the car. We checked on the complimentary breakfast, and apparently it had already made up its mind: “Nope. Go somewhere else.” We took the hint.

Fortunately, Black Bear Diner was right around the corner, and it looked like a much better idea. Actually, it didn’t just look like a better idea—it pulled us in.

A quick stop for fuel—the last one, I hope, at more than $6.00 a gallon—and we were underway. Heading east in the early morning isn’t much fun, especially when you’re fighting the rising sun on one side and a parade of semi-trucks on the other. Neither one was particularly interested in making our morning any easier.

On any drive, you’re going to find beautiful scenery, and you’re going to find ho-hum. Today was definitely a ho-hum kind of day—miles and miles of open space filled with...well, more ho-hum. No lakes or rivers running through the landscape. No trees of any sort. Just a vast, tan wilderness stretching as far as we could see.

On the plus side, Interstate 40 was a pleasant drive, with little traffic other than trucks. Lots of trucks. But at least they were moving, and so were we.

Along the way, we passed a few small communities—actually, “micro-communities” might be a better description—with names like Pisgah, Argos, and Java. Java? Coffee, perhaps? Most seemed to consist of little more than a name, a place where buildings may have once existed, and a whole lot of open space.

Just past Needles, we crossed the Colorado River and were back in Arizona! From there, it was literally downhill—or at least it looked that way on the map—as we turned south onto Arizona 95, heading for Lake Havasu City.

We had never been this way before, so I was hoping to drive across the London Bridge and maybe get a photo to post. Somehow, though, I missed the turn. And this was not the day to turn around and go looking for it. The bridge would have to wait for another trip.

The bridge really did once stand in London, although the story that it was auctioned off because it was sinking into the river isn’t quite true. In fact, the City of London sold it in the late 1960s because the bridge could no longer handle the demands of modern traffic.

It was taken apart stone by stone, shipped across the Atlantic and across the country, and painstakingly reassembled in Lake Havasu City. So this really is the original London Bridge—not a replica. That makes it quite a bit different from the three replica lighthouses that dot the lakeshore.

The drive along the highway provided one sobering experience: the reminders of lives lost along the way. We saw three bicycle memorials beside the road, clearly marking places where cyclists had been killed. We also passed seven crosses, each one marking where a life had been taken on that stretch of highway. It was a reminder that even an otherwise ordinary road can have dark side.

The rest of the drive was pretty straightforward, except for the occasional concern from Barb that I was taking the wrong road. Somehow, I managed to find Interstate 10, and from there we spent a good hour jockeying for position with the seemingly endless line of semi-trucks heading east from China.

Before we were even home, Barb was already planning our next trip. But for now, we’ll just look back on the fun we had, the great meals along the coast, and the wonderful drive we enjoyed over the past ten days.

Day 9 - Salinas, California to Barstow, California

What a change it was to start the day with the sun already up. After packing the car, we headed to Chick-fil-A for another great biscuit breakfast. There’s something reassuring about starting the day with real eggs—especially after suffering through the powdered variety.

Heading south on Highway 101, we witnessed a battle for land between vegetables—you know, that green stuff your mother made you eat—and grapes, Mother Nature’s gift to the wine glass. At first, where the valley floor is mostly level, the vegetables clearly held the field, with only the occasional incursion by the grapes. The vegetables, in every imaginable shade of green, stretched across the fields in all directions, apparently determined to prove that Mom knew what she was talking about.

As the fields gave way to gently rolling hills, the grapes made their appearance, with rows upon rows of vines marching in precise formation across the landscape. The vegetables had surrendered, the green was gone, and wine on the vine had clearly won the day.

As we approached Paso Robles, wineries with names I couldn’t pronounce began to appear. Although I can’t pronounce many wine names either, that has never interfered with drinking them. In the same spirit, we managed to find a Starbucks despite two traffic incidents—one involving several Highway Patrol vehicles and the other a semi-size wrecker. Once we were underway again, we made a quick stop to fuel the car, adding another dent to the credit card at $6.70 a gallon. Once back home, I will never complain about the price of gas again.

The drive from Paso Robles to Interstate 5 was mostly tan and boring, which is apparently a perfectly acceptable way to landscape several hundred square miles. The one break in the monotony was a strange crop growing along Highway 46. I managed to get a photo of it, although identifying it may require someone with considerably more agricultural knowledge than I possess.

Once on Interstate 5, a kind of grayness settled in that would put a damper on most days. On the bright side, orchards began to appear, adding some green to the landscape. If I had to guess, I’d say they were orange trees. I base this conclusion solely on my many viewings of The Grapes of Wrath, which seems like as good a qualification as any.

With lunch scheduled for Tehachapi, Barb spent a considerable amount of time, as she always does, conducting in-depth research on potential candidates for our midday halt. After careful consideration, she finally selected Kohnen’s Country Bakery. Clearly, a great deal of thought had gone into this decision. After all that hard work this Thursday morning, you can imagine her—and my—disappointment when we arrived to find a sign on the door reading, “Closed Wednesday and Thursday.” Apparently, there was one small detail her research had overlooked .

The drive from Tehachapi to Barstow was another one of those empty spaces in the trip. It was endured rather than enjoyed. Of course, any progress toward home brings its own measure of joy, and that often goes a long way toward compensating for the less-than-inspiring stretches of road.

Dinner started as a disaster but eventually turned out to be a winner. There was general agreement among the concerned parties that Mexican was the way to go, a cuisine best saved for the end of any trip. Of the four possibilities selected, the first and third were rejected upon entering the establishments. The second was rejected based on its location and general appearance, while the fourth failed the test when we discovered that it was attached to a truck wash.

In desperation, we settled on Oggi’s Sports, Brewhouse and Pizza, and sometimes desperation pays a handsome dividend. Yes, it was loud. Yes, it was crowded. Yes, there were twenty or more TVs showing various football and baseball games. And yes, there was plenty of cheering. Fortunately, a nice young lady seated us around a corner, where we were spared the full force of the crowd and noise. It was a quiet little refuge, and I suspected it might be where they seated their older patrons. Anyway, the bottom line on Oggi’s was that the Bam Bam Shrimp appetizer was excellent, and the pizza was outstanding. So, after all the false starts, desperation once again proved to be a surprisingly effective dining strategy.

Tomorrow we will be home, sleeping in our own bed and preparing our own meals. After all the miles, hotels, restaurants and questionable breakfast decisions, our own bed and kitchen are sounding pretty good. So, until tomorrow, good night

Day 8 - Eureka, California, to Salinas, California

We awoke to the strains of Robert Schumann’s Träumerei, with the great Vladimir Horowitz at the piano, flowing from my iPhone. There is, quite simply, no better way to begin the day. If you’re not familiar with it, check it out. It is undoubtedly the most civilized thing ever to came out of my iPhone.

There comes a time on every trip when one or both of us looks at the other and says, “I want to go home.” Sometimes it happens after a week; sometimes it takes twenty days. But sooner or later, it always happens. This morning, apparently, was our turn.

After checking the reservations, we discovered it was too late to cancel Salinas without sacrificing a small fortune. Salinas, therefore, was spared. Paso Robles and Needles were not so fortunate. Both were viable candidates for cancellation, and both promptly met the ax. Paso Robles was a loss for both of us. For the last several years, we have had dinner at The Catch, and every meal has been excellent. The pan-fried calamari is a must-have appetizer. Sitting at the counter is always a plus, as we really enjoy watching the cooks at work.

A quick consultation with online maps, the stars, and the tides—why not, we were at the ocean—led us to an overnight in Barstow and home one day sooner.

With that decision in the books, we headed off to our innkeeper’s morning offering. This inn is first-class, from the Lincoln stretch limo that ferries guests to dinner to the real eggs featured in its breakfast spread. Oh, how sweet the morning is without powdered eggs.

Once the car was loaded, we were off for another day’s adventure. And by “off,” I mean we made it all of a quarter mile to Starbucks for the usual. Only after the coffee had been secured could we actually hit the road.

Not wanting to arrive at tonight’s stop two hours early, we decided to take a drive along the Avenue of the Giants. This part of Northern California is home to the magnificent Coast Redwoods, the tallest of all tree species. Some can reach heights of more than 350 feet and measure as much as 20 feet across at the base.

They are truly the elders of the forest, with some reported to be more than 2,000 years old. So, yes, considerably older than me—but not by nearly as much as you might think.

For some reason, this giant corn stands shoulder to shoulder—or at least corn stalk to redwood—with its brethren, the giant redwoods.

The drive up to this point had been thoroughly enjoyable. We had encountered a dozen or more construction zones, but none caused any significant delay; on an otherwise perfect day, they were easy to overlook. Santa Rosa was our lunch stop, where Alex at Jersey Mike’s assembled one outstanding sandwich.

Once past Santa Rosa, the scenery began to fade, traffic increased, and my previously quiet nerves started edging toward the surface. Wanting to avoid San Francisco—and the Golden Gate Bridge toll, which can reach $11.25—we chose an alternate route. Yes, $11.25 for one trip across one bridge. Later, on Interstate 580, we discovered that motorists were also being charged to use the High-Occupancy Vehicle lanes. The siphoning of money is truly an art.

After checking in, we had a light supper and are now looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep—hopefully enough to settle the nerves and prepare us for tomorrow.

No trip through the Redwoods is complete without a photo of Barb standing next to one of these giants of the forest—or, in this case, one of their younger children.

Day 7 - Inn at Otter Crest, Oregon to Eureka, California

Up early, packed and on the road before daybreak. The darkness left us pretty much alone on the road, which, on a two-lane highway, is something to be appreciated. There’s nothing quite like having the road to yourself—especially when “yourself” is driving at an hour when even the deer are still in bed.

Since our innkeeper had neglected to provide breakfast and Depoe Bay was still asleep, we drove 60 miles south to Florence. There, we fueled up on a shared apple fritter and the usual Starbucks. Not a champion’s breakfast, but it got us down the road. And if you ever need a pastry in Florence, we highly recommend Big Dog Donuts & Deli. The name and old gas-station location may give pause, but don’t.

The drive today had very little traffic, beautiful views of the Oregon coast, good roads and clear skies—all the ingredients for a pretty great day on the road. It’s hard to complain when ingredients like those do all the hard work.

We stopped in Bandon for a little walkabout and happened upon the early-morning crabbers just getting to work. It was a nice folks out catching a fresh crab diner rather than taking previously frozen home.

Occasionally we find a restaurant that really stands out for lunch or dinner, and we try to work it into future drives. Heading south along the coast rather than north created a bit of a timing problem for lunch today. Favorites like the Crazy Norwegian (closed) and The Wheelhouse & Crowsnest (we were too early) both struck out.

Before leaving home, my research had turned up Catalyst Seafood in Brookings, and what a find it was. Barb had the fish tacos, which she declared the best ever. Now that’s high praise, because if Barb knows anything, she knows fish tacos. Crispy oysters were also on the menu, and “crispy” means deep-fried. I asked if the chef could pan-fry them instead, and he agreed. The result was a really fine oyster lunch—and proof that sometimes it pays to ask for what you want.

In spite of the daily warnings to watch for deer and elk, we had yet to see either one. I was beginning to suspect the signs were nothing more than an elaborate scheme to get drivers to slow down. That theory ended today when we passed an elk ranch where 40 or more elk were roaming freely—and apparently unfenced—alongside the road. And yes, every driver slowed down.

Once into California, two things happened. First, we ran into fog. Okay, it was light fog, but fog just the same. Second, forward progress was halted three times by road construction. The first delay was lengthy; the other two were more tolerable.

I understand that this is the time of year for road construction, after most vacations have been taken and traffic has thinned out. I understand the logic. I just don’t have to like it.

Dinner tonight was at Cafe Waterfront in Eureka, one of those time-tested restaurants we can count on and will call on every time we’re in town. Barb had the grilled red snapper, while I went with the pan-fried oysters. Once again, we left more than satisfied with both the food and the service.

Tomorrow we are off to an overnight in Salinas,, California. I'll close tonight with a quick look at the Oregon coast.

Day 6 - Lake Oswego, Oregon to Otter Rock, Oregon

After completing the usual morning routine, we were very relieved when the jury came back with a unanimous vote of no confidence in the complimentary breakfast. Apparently, justice was served.

Once the car was loaded, it was a short drive—one whole block—to Chick-fil-A, where we redeemed ourselves with their wonderful breakfast biscuit with egg and cheese. Two biscuits, a box of hash brown rounds, and an orange juice set us back a very reasonable $11.00, made even more reasonalbe by no state tax. Hard to argue with that kind of verdict.

Today’s drive was the shortest of the trip—only 98 miles and a little over two hours behind the wheel. The route was one we had driven a dozen or so times in a past life. The problem is that past life was 31 years ago, and apparently 31 years is enough time for a few things to change.

The first thing we noticed was the wineries. Back then, we knew of five or six scattered around the Willamette Valley. Today, there seem to be several dozen, spread in every direction. And it wasn’t just the wineries. New office buildings and housing developments have popped up everywhere, filling in spaces we remembered as fields and open countryside. Apparently, while we were busy doing other things for 31 years, the Willamette Valley was busy growing up.

The drive from McMinnville to Lincoln City and the coast was a lot easier on the eyes. There wasn’t much in the way of new development, just the Coast Range, with its tree-covered hillsides, an occasional passing lane, and considerably less traffic. After the steady parade of wineries, office buildings and housing developments in the Willamette Valley, it was nice to see something other than evidence that someone had recently discovered a piece of vacant land.

Lincoln City is the result of five small cities being consolidated into one, creating a town that is long, narrow, and apparently designed almost entirely around tourism. You will not find a finer collection of motels, restaurants, and purveyors of whimsical wonders anywhere along the coast.

No visit to the Oregon Coast is considered complete without taking home an Oregon Coast sweatshirt, a lamp made of seashells, or a fine piece of maplewood art that seemed like a good idea at the time. And, of course, a bowl of Moe’s clam chowder is practically required if you wish to be accepted as a visiting local. For us, however, Lincoln City has always served a simpler purpose: get through it as quickly as possible and keep moving.

We continued down the Coast Highway to Newport, where we embraced our tourist destiny. We went to Moe’s, naturally, and even did our part to support the coastal economy by purchasing a jar of marionberry jam—Barb’s favorite. Apparently, once you reach the coast, resistance is futile: first comes the chowder, then the jam, and before long you’re carrying home a seashell lamp.

Barb called and discovered that we could check in early, so we headed for the Inn at Otter Crest. After checking in, we climbed more stairs than we have in the last year. Up and down we went, accomplishing absolutely nothing, until we finally discovered we were in the wrong area. That little revelation left us with only one set of moderately challenging stairs to deal with, which by then seemed almost like a gift.

Tonight’s dinner was at Tidal Raves in Depoe Bay, and we have no hesitation recommending this restaurant. Barb bravely worked her way through a great-looking Dungeness crab and shrimp Louie salad, while I opted for the pan-fried oysters. And not five or six oysters, as you might reasonably expect. Oh no—eleven plump oysters perfectly fried. I’ll be lucky to see that many oysters again for the rest of the trip.

After a great dinner, it was back to our overnight so I could do a little writing. By “a little,” of course, I mean the usual two hours of staring at a very small keyboard while trying to make a few paragraphs sound like I knew what I was doing. Here is the small keyboard and iPad I have to use.

Tomorrow we continue down the coast to Eureka for the night. And as the sun settles slowly in the West, I’ll say, “See you tomorrow.”

Day 5 - Around Lake Oswego, Oregon

Woke up this morning beneath a low, slate-gray sky, with rain hanging in the air and a sharp chill settling in. Back home, friends would suffer beneath a blazing 99 degree sun, while I was enjoying a pleasant 64 degrees. Barb, of course, thought it was freezing—but then, anything below 80 qualifies as too cold in her book. The shorts that had been the uniform of the day were suddenly headed back into the suitcase, as jeans took front and center.

Against our better judgment, we headed down for the complimentary breakfast. Once again, better judgment got the last laugh. I had always assumed it was difficult to make scrambled eggs completely tasteless. Then I remembered that some people refuse to let difficulty stand in their way. The eggs left us with just enough hunger to make a wiser decision later in the day.

When we travel, we try to schedule a housekeeping day every week or so. On longer trips, that might include haircuts and perhaps a car service. On shorter trips, it usually boils down to laundry. Today, it was laundry. While Barb handled that task, I caught up on a few odds and ends.

With no particular plan in mind, we took off to drive somewhere. Somewhere eventually took us past our old Portland house. I had that house built in 1985, and it still looked much as we remembered. From there, our next “somewhere” led us to Washington Square, the large indoor shopping mall that had seen plenty of us in years long ago.

The next hour or so was spent walking the mall. We call this “getting in our steps,” and it can happen anywhere there is open indoor space. Remember the Arizona heat—hence the indoor part. This exercise is usually done to make up for some past indulgence, such as a particularly memorable meal.

Today, however, we were getting ahead of the problem. Tonight’s destination was McMenamins John Barleycorns Pub, where a Dungeon Burger and a Terminator Stout were waiting. We weren’t exactly walking off dinner; we were building up credit. For a meal like that, I was willing to put in every step necessary.

As noon approached, our thoughts naturally turned to lunch. The question was where to go—and what we could split. Firehouse Subs seemed like an easy choice, especially since we already knew they served good sandwiches back home. But as we sat in the car, something about the plan suddenly felt wrong. Before we could even get out, “this isn’t right” took over. A quick search and a short drive later, we found ourselves at the Elephants Deli in Lake Oswego. Oh, what a great decision that turned out to be. We split what may have been the best Reuben sandwich ever, along with a bag of chips and a Diet Coke. If you’re ever in the area and have a craving for a truly great Reuben, this is the place to go.

After lunch, we started looking for a gas station. After 20 minutes or so of fighting traffic, we finally checked our travel plan and discovered that tomorrow’s drive totaled only 98 miles. With 238 miles still left in the tank, the need for gas suddenly didn’t seem quite so urgent. We changed course and headed back to our overnight.

Once there, Barb elected to take a nap. I would have happily joined her, except I decided to get a head start on the blog. Writing these daily updates takes about two hours. That seems like a lot of time for such a short post, but I tend to overthink everything—write, rewrite, and then go back and change a few words here and there.

Two things make the process even more challenging. First is the very small keyboard I have to work with. While convenient for travel, its small size and lack of a numerical pad make it harder to work with. Second, I use an iPad as my screen, and after a while, the small display and even smaller print can become tiring to read.

We met our son Jeff and his wife, Anita, at the John Barleycorn Pub for dinner, and once again, neither the company nor the food and drink disappointed. Barb and I split the excellent Dungeon Burger, a satisfying choice with plenty of flavor. I paired mine with a Terminator Stout—dark, robust, and perhaps best avoided if you still had important decisions to make that evening. Barb chose a Ruby instead, a lighter, less potent option that offered a refreshing contrast.

Tomorrow we reverse course and head south along the Oregon and California coasts, with the Pacific stretching beside us in shifting shades of blue and gray and the salty air filling the car. Our next overnight stop will be at the Inn at Otter Crest, where we will settle in, breathe in the ocean air, and enjoy the sweeping view before another day of watching waves roll toward the shore and savoring fresh seafood.

Day 4 - Grants Pass, Oregon to Lake Oswego, Oregon

For some reason, getting a good night’s sleep on trips has always seemed to evade me. But last night was such a welcome change—eleven whole hours of uninterrupted sleep. What a gift and great way to start the day.

Unfortunately, a Cracker Box breakfast wasn’t within reach today, so we headed down to see what our innkeeper had to offer to get the day started. We went with the basics: scrambled eggs, a few potatoes, orange juice, and coffee. Did I say basic? Yes, I did. But hey, it was complimentary, and coffee was involved, so who’s complaining?

Barb decided to add a little excitement to the morning. Upon returning to our room, she announced—in a voice loud enough to alert the entire hotel—“I LEFT MY PURSE!” This is not our first “return to the scene of the crime” to retrieve something left behind, and I suspect it won’t be our last. Most of our morning routines are pretty simple. Occasionally we specialize in treasure hunts.

Before joining the interstate, we stopped by the local Fred Meyer to fuel up and collect my 40¢-per-gallon bonus. When we moved from Oregon nine years ago, self-serve fuel was not an option. Apparently, times have changed. At least at Fred’s, half the pumps are now self-serve and the other half are attendant-served. With a 50/50 chance of pumping my own fuel, naturally I lost—and drew the attendant. So, in addition to filling the tank, we were treated to a complimentary ten-minute presentation on the many benefits of moving from Portland to Grants Pass. By the time he finished, I was expecting him to hand me a real estate brochure and a job application for Fred Meyer. All I wanted was 40¢ off a gallon. Instead, I left with a full tank and relocation pitch.

Our first mission of the day was to find and visit Barb’s sister’s grave in Oakland, Oregon. Normally, no road trip is officially underway until Starbucks has been secured, but the one we spotted looked suspiciously crowded. With an estimated 400+ Starbucks in Oregon, we elected to pass for now and fuel ourselves further down the road.

Hunting down gravestones is an art Barb and I have practiced over the years, usually with great success. Today, however, we were stumped. Oakland, Oregon, is a small rural town—population 945 hearty souls—well off the beaten path. It comes as no surprise, then, that the cemetery may not be well maintained. Case in point: a tombstone from the 1800s is slowly being consumed by a tree. The map we received marked a circle where we should find the gravestone. We spent an hour searching the area several times without luck. Barb was disappointed, but we left satisfied we had given it a thorough search.

With our unsuccessful search behind us, we headed back toward the Interstate to continue north. Just before the on-ramp, however, our luck took a welcome turn: we spotted a Starbucks only a block away. Properly fueled, we resumed the final leg of the day’s drive to Tigard, Oregon.

In another life, we had made the drive between Portland to Ashland many times over the years, so there should have been no surprises today. But there were. So many mountains, so many tall trees, so many passes, and so many rivers.Granted, a 1,700-foot pass doesn’t mean much when you once lived at 7,200 feet in Colorado, but when you live in the Arizona desert, 1,700 feet can be impressive. And as for the rivers, try to find one in Arizona that looks anything like the Rogue River. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Once in Tigard, we headed over to my son Rob’s home. After many years apart, it was wonderful to spend time together again. It was also great to see his wife, Wendy, and our granddaughters, Jill and Kate. It was also time to hand over to the eldest son the bible, which has recorded the birth, marriage and death of family members for five generations.

We were now stuck in that familiar twilight zone of “too late for lunch and too early for dinner,” so we rolled the dice and were lucky enough to win an early check in at our overnight stop in Lake Oswego. We would have preferred a steak dinner, but sometimes you just have to accept what the dice hand you—and apparently, they were feeling budget-conscious. Despite having only complimentary scrambled eggs to sustain us, we opted for a healthy dinner of soup and salad at Olive Garden.

Tomorrow is our first and only overnight stay of the trip, which means a little housekeeping and perhaps some shopping—because nothing says vacation quite like doing laundry and browsing the aisles.

Day 3 - Carson City, Nevada to Grants Pass, Oregon

Woke up just before 5:00 AM. My first thought was "I needs me some casino", but then the idea of finally leaving Nevada a winner took over.

After the usual morning stuff, we loaded up the car and started the next adventure. For some unknown reason, the stars aligned, and our first three stops before reaching the Interstate were all on the same street, within just a few blocks of each other. How this happens, I don’t know—but I’m certainly not complaining!

Before going any further, I want to compliment last night’s hotel as being an over-the-top electronic support facility. There were three charging stations similar to this one in the room.

Our first stop was the Cracker Box, an old-time diner with plenty of charm and a great breakfast. The Cracker Box has actually been our go-to breakfast spot in Carson City for years, and I’m sure it will remain so for as long as our travels take us that way. We highly recommend it.

And I have to mention their breakfast potatoes. They are, hands down, the best I’ve ever had. I don’t know what they do to those potatoes, but whatever it is, they’ve got it figured out. Some things are worth making a detour for—and apparently, this morning, we didn’t even have to!

With breakfast taken care of and our appetites happily satisfied, it was time to get back on the road. Our second stop was Fred Meyer for gas—think Kroger if you’re not from Oregon. The best part was that it was almost directly across the street from the Cracker Box, so we didn’t have to go far at all. The stars were definitely still working in our favor.

I filled up and got 30¢ a gallon off, which was a nice little bonus. Apparently, I’ll get 40¢ off next time. At this rate, those fuel rewards are starting to feel almost as good as a slot machine—except this one actually pays me back.

Once the car was fueled, it was time to fuel the two of us, which meant a mocha from Starbucks. Fortunately, that was just a few blocks away, so our streak of conveniently located stops continued.

With breakfast, gas, and coffee behind us, we had everything we needed for the road ahead. All that was left was to find the interstate and head north. Three stops, all within a few blocks, and not one wasted mile. I’d say the stars were definitely on our side that morning.

The first part of the day’s drive from Carson City to Reno is a real pleasure. It’s a great divided interstate, complete with truck lanes and speed limits up to 70 MPH. It’s an easy, comfortable stretch of highway and a nice way to start the day’s drive

Once we reached Reno, we ran into the usual morning go-to-work traffic. It always makes me wonder how many people left home just a little later than they intended. In any case, the pace slowed down considerably, as it tends to do when everyone seems to have the same destination at the same time.

The drive to Susanville was pretty uneventful, with one minor exception: somehow, we completely missed a rest area we’ve been stopping at for years. Forgetful? Getting old? I’ll let you decide. Apparently, even familiar places can sneak right past us.

But the drive from Susanville to Mt. Shasta turned out to be one of the best stretches of the trip so far. The mountains rose around us, the Ponderosa pines stretched along the road, and above it all was a deep blue sky without a cloud in sight. Best of all, there was hardly any traffic. In nearly two hours, I passed only two cars. With scenery like that and an open road ahead, it was hard to imagine a better way to spend a couple of hours behind the wheel.

A short stretch of construction near the end slowed things down a bit, but even that couldn’t take much away from what was otherwise a beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable drive.

Once we were back in civilization and had merged onto Interstate 5, the world changed color. The green of the mountains and forests was behind us, replaced by a vast palette of browns. California is called the Golden State, but golden seemed too generous a word for what lay before us. I know tan when I see it, and this was tan.

Crossing the Siskiyou Mountains into Oregon, the landscape began to change. Tan gave way to green, tall pines lined the road, and, best of all, there was water. Rivers and creeks flowed through the landscape as Mother Earth intended. After the parched country we had left behind, the sight of flowing water was welcome.

From there, the drive became easy and familiar. We traveled roads we had known before, watching the Oregon landscape unfold as we settled into the rhythm of a journey nearing its end. By early afternoon, we reached Grants Pass, but with time to spare before check-in, we decided to visit a do-it-yourself car wash and remove more than 1,000 miles of bugs from Hamish—that’s the Honda’s name. With the car looking respectable again, we turned to the more important question of where to have dinner.

After much back and forth, the Laughing Clam won out, and what a good choice it was. Barb opted for fish and chips, which she declared excellent, while I chose a basket of fried oysters and beer-battered prawns. They were also excellent, as was the dark beer whose name I never did catch.

Tomorrow we are off for a two-night stay in Lake Oswego, Oregon. There we will visit with two sons and probably do a little housekeeping.

Day 2 - Barstow, California to Carson City, Nevada

We were wide awake at 5:00, with absolutely nothing to do except stare at the clock and wonder how we were going to fill the next hour. Since the complimentary breakfast didn’t open until 6:00, we decided to put the time to good use. We packed up our suitcases, loaded everything into the car, and still managed to be third in line when the breakfast bar finally opened.

For a change, the breakfast spread was actually impressive, which we figured might have something to do with this being a brand-new facility. Feeling adventurous, we both chose what was generously masquerading as scrambled eggs and split an orange juice between us. Not exactly a gourmet breakfast, but at that hour, it certainly did the job!

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when we headed out for our next overnight stop in Carson City, Nevada. The first couple of hours looked pretty much like yesterday—miles and miles of what appeared to be empty space.

Of course, it really isn’t empty. There’s plenty of stuff out there; it’s just that most of it isn’t particularly interesting. What did catch our attention, though, was the surprising number of old, weather-beaten homes scattered across the landscape. And, almost without exception, they seemed to have at least one satellite dish perched somewhere nearby, as if even the most rundown homestead had to have access to the outside world.

It was a landscape with plenty to see, just not necessarily anything you’d put on a postcard.

After several hours, the scenery suddenly did a quick 180 and, almost as if someone had flipped a switch, mountains appeared on the horizon. Before long, trees began popping up, too. What a relief! Apparently, neither mountains nor trees had disappeared from the face of the earth after all.

As we continued climbing, the elevation steadily increased. The road seemed to be taking us higher and higher until we finally topped out at just over 8,100 feet. After all those miles of open, scrubby landscape, the mountains and trees were a very welcome change of scenery.

At some point, I stopped admiring the scenery and decided to take a look at the miles left until empty. The number staring back at me was 64. That got our attention

After some discussion, we settled on a Shell station at the June Lake Loop. The price was a breathtaking $7.099 a gallon. I bought four gallons, which, in the Honda Hybrid, should give us roughly 194 miles—more than enough to get us into Nevada and safely to a proper fill-up.

June Lake holds a few memories for me. These days, it’s a built-up recreation area, complete with designated campsites and even a grocery store. But back in the late 1950s—very late, mind you—a high school friend and I used to head up there to fish. In those days, there were little more than dirt roads and the wonderfully simple camping rule of: find a spot you like and camp there.

It’s hard to reconcile that memory with the June Lake we see today. What was once a quiet, rough-around-the-edges fishing and camping spot has grown into a full-fledged recreation destination. Progress, I suppose—but I have to admit, there was something pretty special about those dirt roads and picking your own campsite.

The rest of the drive into Carson City was uneventful, except, of course, for the traffic. Starting in Gardnerville, traffic suddenly turned into full-blown rush hour—except nobody had apparently told the clock. It was just a little after high noon, but judging by the number of cars on the road, you’d think everyone had just gotten off work and was racing home for dinner.

Earlier, we had entered the address of the local Honda dealer, so when we arrived, I spent a few minutes explaining to several service reps what had happened the day before. They were baffled by the loss of electric steering and puzzled by the pumpkin-colored instrument cluster.

After considerable discussion, the jury retired briefly and returned with its verdict: they had never seen anything like it, had no idea what had happened, and therefore could not recommend anything other than continuing to drive it.

They did wish us luck, which was appreciated. It was also about as reassuring as being told by your doctor, “Well, this is interesting.” Neither of us was feeling particularly confident about the rest of the trip, but we will continue on.

Since we were a little early to check in, I decided it was time to make my usual $20 donation to a casino. After reviewing a number of slot machines, we walked past one that seemed to speak to me in a low, rather sexy voice: “Try me.”

So I did.

The machine had a Chinese flavor, featuring a Chinese woman throwing dumplings. I had no idea what was going on, but apparently neither did I need to. I slipped in a $20, then made three plays at 80 cents each—and suddenly the bells rang, the lights flashed, and the machine began telling me to “press button” over and over and over.

Soon the woman began throwing dumplings down and for the next ten minutes, I obediently pressed the button while the machine continued doing whatever it was doing. I had no idea what the woman, the dumplings, or the buttons had to do with winning money, but I was willing to remain uninformed. Eventually, I ran out of free button pushes and discovered that my $2.40 investment had turned into $132.92.

At this point, I felt it was best not to tempt fate or give the casino a chance to reconsider its mistake.

Did I cash out immediately?

Oh yes, I did.

We decided to try to stay on the healthy side for dinner, so it was off to Olive Garden for soup, salad, and breadsticks. The dinner was very good and just what we needed.

Our waitress was excellent, with a sharp and funny sense of humor. She was also very helpful when I managed to spill some of my soup, apparently in an attempt to make dinner more memorable. She quickly arrived with a handful of napkins, some ice for my thumb, and a fresh bowl of soup. I had managed to turn a simple bowl of soup into a minor medical and housekeeping incident, and she handled it all without missing a beat. She definitely earned a generous tip.

Tomorrow we’re off to Grants Pass, back in our old home state of Oregon. Part of the drive will take us along the backroads, so we’re looking forward to a little adventure. After the events of the last couple of days, “backroads adventure” may be an interesting choice of words, but it should be fun.

Day 1 - Home to Barstow, California

Having dedicated several months to planning and more than a week to packing, you’d think we were headed off on a smooth-sailing adventure. Naturally, that was our first mistake. Life had other plans. She showed up, looked over our carefully constructed itinerary, and simply said, “Ain’t gonna happen.”

The plan was flawless: sleep late, start packing the car about 8:00, and be on the road at precisely 9:00. Easy, right? Apparently not. At 5:30, the sleep gremlin crawled out from whatever dark corner of the bedroom it inhabits, poked me awake, and apparently decided that sleeping until 7:00 was an unreasonable luxury. After lying there long enough to become thoroughly bored, I finally surrendered. We left at 8:00—which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing. The gremlin had won, but at least it got us on the road early.

Most of today’s drive would not qualify as scenic unless your definition of scenic includes an impressive collection of sand, scrub, rocks, and an occasional tree trying desperately to prove it belongs there. Interstate 10 West from Buckeye, Arizona, to Blythe, California, crosses a vast stretch of Western desert filled with... well, almost nothing. There are a few trees—small trees, but trees nonetheless. Towns are few, small, and spaced far enough apart to make you wonder if the previous one was actually there or just a mirage.

What the desert lacks in scenery, it more than makes up for in trucks. Lots and lots of trucks. Interstate 10 is a major artery for goods moving inland from the ports around Long Beach, California, and the parade of semis heading east seems to have no end. Mile after mile, they roll along carrying containers, packages, machinery, and who knows what else. Much of it began its journey halfway around the world in China and is now making its way toward the heartland. And once completeing their journey to the heartland they make the return trip, which is what we are in the middle of. Apparently, even the desert has become part of the supply chain.

The first stop of the day was for a mocha at Starbucks in Blythe. This has to be the fifth or sixth time we have refueled there. Blythe is right on the Arizona/California border, with the first offramp being Intake Boulevard. I believe this is where those escaping the Dust Bowl in the 1930s were taken into California. Think The Grapes of Wrath.

Next was US 95, which I have referred to in the past, and still do, as the Roller Coaster. When it rains, this area often suffers flash floods, and the dips in the road carry water from the mountains down toward the Colorado River, just off to our right. This is another road one is happy to see disappearing in the rearview mirror.

Our lunch today was a first for us. We had never had a smashburger, and for once we went off the script and decided to give one a try. Were we ever surprised! It was great, as was the service at Needles Smash Burgers. This is one we would recommend if you happen to find yourself in Needles. If you do find yourself in Needles, please let me know how that happened.

So far, it had been a fairly calm day, and we were settling in for the last leg from Needles to Barstow. Then, about an hour down the road, things changed in a hurry. The electric power steering suddenly stopped providing power, and I was instantly back to driving the 1949 Ford of my teen years. But that was only the beginning. One by one, the warnings started appearing until the entire instrument cluster was glowing orange. No lane following. No cruise control. No tire-pressure monitoring. No emergency braking. And then more warnings, seemingly without end, as every one of those really cool computer functions disappeared. The car was still moving, but it was becoming very clear that a lot of its electronic safety net had just vanished. My instrument cluster had turned into a large Halloween pumpkin, and I was beginning to wonder what might fail next.

Did I panic? Well, maybe a little. Barb, meanwhile, went into problem-solving mode and located the nearest Honda dealer—nearest being about two hours away. I was soon on the phone with a very nice service advisor. She listened patiently to my tale of woe and, while she was very sympathetic, had no idea what could be wrong. The only thing she could offer was for us to bring the car in the next day. Then, almost as an afterthought, she suggested shutting off the engine, waiting 15 minutes, and seeing what happened.

So there we were, with no real plan other than hoping the car would continue to behave itself. We plodded along at about 56 MPH down the interstate, watching for a place to pull off and try the engine-shutoff trick. It was a little like when the tech tells you to turn the router off and on again to reset it—except this time the router weighed several thousand pounds and we were sitting in the middle of the desert.

Finally, an exit appeared, and I decided it was time to take the chance. My biggest worry was that once I shut the engine off, it might decide not to start again. We pulled off, stopped, and waited. Fifteen minutes can seem like a very long time when you are wondering whether your car is going to cooperate.

Finally, I pressed the start button. The engine came to life. Good start. Then I checked the steering. Power steering was back! That was a huge relief, but the orange warnings were still staring back at me from the instrument cluster. We had gained some ground, but the Halloween pumpkin was still glowing.

Needing gas, I pulled into the Chevron station and, after discovering the California way to use a credit card—it’s not at the pump—I purchased a small quantity of unleaded. $7.91 per gallon? No, wait. $40 bought me 5.06 gallons. Either way, it was not exactly a bargain.

Then came the moment we had been hoping for. I started the engine again, and this time the instrument cluster came alive clean and normal. No orange warnings. No list of missing systems. No Halloween pumpkin. The power steering was working, the warnings were gone, and suddenly the car was back to being the car we had started the day with. After all that drama, the simple sight of a normal dashboard had never looked so good.

The rest of the day was uneventful, which was perfectly fine with me. I had pretty much reached my limit on events for one day.

Check-in at our motel was delayed, so we used the extra time to find some fajitas for dinner. Nothing fancy, but after the day we had just experienced, dinner and a little downtime sounded pretty good.

It wasn’t a great day, but we made it through, the car seemed to have recovered, and tomorrow is another day. We’ll be up and running again in the morning—hopefully with considerably fewer events.

Day 4 - Flagstaff, Arizona to Home

The last day of the trip was an easy drive home from Flagstaff, taking just over two hours. We hit the road at 7:05 a.m., skipping both breakfast and our usual Starbucks stop so we could get an early start.

Starting at nearly 7,000 feet, we headed south on Interstate 17 through pine forests that once again reminded us of our time in Oregon. Before long, however, the scenery began to change. The forests gradually gave way to the rugged Arizona desert, and it wasn't long before saguaros and other cacti dominated the landscape.

Not to be without our mocha for the day, we stopped at a Starbucks in Anthem and picked up our favorite drink. Caffeine in hand, we completed the final stretch home. It had been a great trip filled with beautiful scenery, interesting places, and a chance to explore several retirement communities. As always, it was good to be home, but we were already looking forward to our next adventure.

Day 3 - St. George, Utah to Flagstaff, Arizona

Once again, the alarm clock won. We found ourselves at Einstein Bagels shortly after they unlocked the doors at 5:30 a.m., proving that the only thing motivating us to be awake at that hour was a shared bagel breakfast sandwich. Properly fueled, we hit the road and pointed the car toward Flagstaff, Arizona, ready for whatever the day had in store.

Interstate 15 and a state route carried us through Hurricane, Utah, before we headed onto unfamiliar territory. The next 141 miles were all new to us, and they turned out to be some of the most enjoyable of the trip. Highways 59 and 389 took us through Apple Valley, Colorado City, and Fredonia. Once we picked up U.S. Highway 89A beyond Fredonia, the scenery really shifted into high gear. As we climbed to nearly 8,000 feet, the desert gradually gave way to forests of towering pine trees. For a moment, it felt like we’d accidentally wandered back into Oregon. All that was missing was a little drizzle and someone reminding us to recycle!

After descending nearly 4,200 feet, we were treated to some spectacular rock formations near Cliff Dwellers Lodge before crossing the Colorado River at Marble Canyon. By the time we reached U.S. Highway 89, we had completed 141 miles of some of the most dramatic and unforgettable scenery we’d ever driven.

From red rock deserts to cool pine forests, steep mountain climbs to deep canyon descents, this stretch of highway kept surprising us around every bend. It was one of those drives where the journey was every bit as memorable as the destination.

The astute reader may have noticed that one essential part of our travel routine has been conspicuously absent by now: the Starbucks mocha

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a Starbucks anywhere along this wonderfully scenic stretch of highway. As beautiful as the drive was, it turned out to be something of a mocha desert. We survived the deprivation, but it wasn’t easy.

Fortunately, we located a Starbucks in Page, Arizona, and decided it was well worth the 26-mile detour. After all, when you’ve gone that long without a mocha, what’s another 52 miles of driving?

Mocha in hand, we headed south on U.S. Highway 89 for an otherwise uneventful drive to our overnight stop in Flagstaff, Arizona. Despite obeying every speed limit and taking time for a walkabout in Cameron, we still arrived more than two hours before hotel check-in.

With time to spare, we toured an independent living community that Barb had discovered through some excellent reviews. It was a beautiful facility—only four and a half years old and nestled in a peaceful forest setting.

There was just one problem. At over 6,900 feet in elevation, it was a little too close to the sky for us. We loved the place, but our lungs voted “no.”

Later, after checking in, we each enjoyed a bowl of soup at Olive Garden before returning to the hotel to settle in for the night. It was a quiet, relaxing end to a day filled with spectacular scenery, mountain roads, and one very important mocha stop.

Tomorrow we’d point the car toward home, but for now we were content to call it a day and enjoy one last night on this trip.

Day 2 - Around St. George, Utah

Up a little after 6:00, and by 6:45 we were partaking in the typical motel breakfast. Today’s offering consisted of what appeared to be a very thin Southwest omelet. Accompanied by a glass of orange juice, it turned out to be pretty good. I also grabbed a hard-boiled egg just in case the omelet was made from powdered eggs.

Last night Barb discovered that my leather shaving kit was falling apart. Actually, it looked like the leather was dissolving. After an extensive online search, the only locally available replacement was at Kohl’s. So, after breakfast we wasted a little time at Walmart and then headed to Kohl’s when it opened. As it turned out, there was only one left, and I grabbed it.

Next up was a call to Snow Canyon to arrange a visit. As luck would have it, our contact was out for the day, so we met with another representative who showed us around instead. We took a good look at the space, imagined what it might be like, and weighed the possibilities. In the end, while we liked what we saw, Snow Canyon may have slipped off the short list.

Since we’re trying to be a little more mindful of what we eat—which mostly means eating less—we decided to split a ham and cheese sandwich at Kneaders Bakery for lunch. It was a simple trade-off: skip dinner out and, instead, settle in later with a Kind Bar and a bottle of water each. Not exactly a feast, but a small step toward staying on track while we’re on the road.

With a whole afternoon left and nothing on the agenda, we headed north on Interstate 15 to the Toquerville turnoff. Toquerville is a typical small Utah town with a population of 2,344. Located only six miles from Hurricane (population 26,891), its residents have little need for a business district, allowing the town to retain its rural character.

The rest of the day was spent back at the motel getting ready for tomorrow’s drive and overnight stay in Flagstaff, Arizona. The route will take us along a few roads and through a few towns we haven’t seen before, so it should be an enjoyable drive.

Day 1 - Home to St. George, Utah

After a quick muffin breakfast and loading the car, we were on the road by 6:05. Within the first 45 minutes, we had topped off the gas tank and procured a peppermint mocha from Starbucks in Wickenburg.

Our route today took us north on what the signs call Future Interstate 11. By “future,” they mean a highway that currently switches back and forth between two lanes and four lanes over and over again. The four-lane sections are very much interstate quality. The two-lane sections, not so much.

After heading west on Interstate 40, which is undergoing major renovations, we made a quick stop at a Safeway in Kingman, Arizona, for two bananas (all of $0.49) and a quick walk-about. We find these short walks are necessary every couple of hours. It must have something to do with age.

The drive from Kingman to Las Vegas on Highway 93 was no different than in years past—boring. I will say that today a pickup truck towing a trailer did not run two stop signs and race across a four-lane highway directly in front of us. The video from our dashcam is available in the September 25, 2025 post.

We chose to leave on a Sunday specifically to avoid traffic through Las Vegas, and, as we’d hoped, it was light compared to a typical weekday. I did get a little distracted and missed the Interstate 15 ramp to St. George, Utah. However, the Lady in the Dash quickly jumped in and found a way to get me back on course.

Our last walk-around of the day was at Lee’s Discount Liquor in Mesquite, Nevada. Lee’s is not your typical liquor store. Oh no—it’s a warehouse-sized liquor store. If you’re looking for an obscure bottle of Scotch, bourbon, gin, or just about any other alcoholic beverage, Lee’s is the place for you. They also have a huge selection of wine and beer. The only black mark we found? Not a single beer from Oregon.

The last few miles to St. George were quick and uneventful. Barb worked her magic and got us a room for two nights, the first of which was free. That's magic. Dinner was at one of those kind of places you don't return too.

Tomorrow we are off for another visit to Snow Canyon Retirement Community.

Day 5 - St. George to Home

Up at 4:45 to get an early start on the day. Half hour to get ready, a few minutes to load the car then on the road. First stop was Cracker Barrel in North Las Vegas. There was more traffic than I expected early in the morning, but we made it through with only two major delays. Sometimes I wonder why traffic comes to a complete stop and then half a mile later starts right up.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. It was an interesting trip, learning about what our future life might look like.

Day 4 - A Free Day

Today was a free day with no more facilities to visit, so we skipped breakfast at the hotel and headed to Chick-fil-A. We each ordered an egg and cheese breakfast biscuit. They have the best biscuits around, so it's no surprise they've topped the American Customer Satisfaction Index for more than a decade.

After breakfast, we headed north on Interstate 15 to Cedar City, Utah. It was a short 52-mile drive, made even quicker by Utah's 80 mph speed limit. One of the main reasons for the trip was to visit the new National Cemetery. Opened in late 2025, it is still quite small—only about eight acres—with just 20 to 25 headstones. The cemetery has beautiful mountain views and real grass, unlike the gravel-covered national cemetery in Arizona. As with all National Cemeteries, burial is provided at no cost for eligible veterans and their spouses. If we eventually end up living in Utah, this is where we'll be buried.

After lunch, we continued north on Interstate 15 to the small town of Parowan, Utah. There wasn't any particular reason for visiting other than Barb wanted to see it. With a population of around 3,000, there's not a lot to see. Parowan's claim to fame is that it's the county seat of Iron County and the oldest town in southern Utah. More than anything, it has a genuine small-town, rural atmosphere. It does "small town" exceptionally well, and in today's world, that makes it seem like a wonderful place to live.

Back at the hotel, it was time to decide where to have dinner. After more than half an hour of going back and forth, we finally settled on Sandtown Pizza. It's small and far from fancy, but the pizza was outstanding. When we finished eating, the young woman who had taken our order brought over one of the handheld payment devices that restaurants use these days. She looked at the screen, smiled, and said, "Oops, looks like it's free." Apparently, she had pressed the wrong button, and just like that, our bill was marked as paid. Needless to say, she received a very generous tip.

The rest of the evening was spent packing and getting everything ready for the trip home the next day.

Day 3 - Around St. George

Day 3 began with another great breakfast at the hotel. We joked that maybe we should start doing this when we get home.

We spent the morning exploring St. George once again. One thing that really stood out was how clean the city is. From the most luxurious homes to the more modest neighborhoods, everything was neat and well maintained. The yards were meticulously cared for, the streets were spotless, and we didn't see any graffiti. There also seemed to be an abundance of upscale homes, many perched on bluffs with what must be spectacular views.

At 11:30, we met with the representative who was showing us Legacy Village. Like yesterday's visit, the tour included several different independent living options. Afterward, we had a question-and-answer session with the representative, followed by lunch. Once the tour was over, we decided that Snow Canyon would remain our first choice.

For dinner, we ordered clam chowder from the hotel's restaurant. Although it was prepared a little differently than we're used to, it was excellent. We also finally mastered the hotel's streaming TV system. Tomorrow is a free day, so we'll probably take a drive farther north and see what we can discover.

Day 2 - Around St. George

Before I tell you about our day, I wanted to share this photo we took this morning.

The breakfast at the Inn on the Cliff is outstanding. It is delivered right to your room and includes a small glass bowl with fresh fruit topped with yogurt and granola, a glass of orange juice, a slice of cheddar cheese, and a small bag of almonds. It's a simple breakfast, but a very good one.

With our first retirement community appointment scheduled for noon, we spent the morning driving around St. George. The first thing we noticed was the width of the streets. They aren't just wide—they're really wide. Apparently, when the town was first laid out, the streets were made wide enough for an ox cart to turn around without difficulty.

Notice how the wide street makes the cars look so small.

We also stopped to check out a couple of Smith's grocery stores (the Utah equivalent of Kroger) as well as Harmons Neighborhood Grocer. Harmons was especially impressive—an exceptionally nice store that reminded us a lot of Market of Choice in Bend.

At noon, we met with a representative from Snow Canyon Retirement Community. Our visit began with lunch, followed by a tour of the independent living residences and amenities. We then spent quite a while talking with the representative and getting answers to our many questions. Our first impression was excellent. Of all the communities we've visited so far, Snow Canyon immediately moved to the top of our list. here.

Dinner was at another one of those places we won't be returning to any time soon.

Tomorrow, we have another place to visit and maybe a little more exploring.

Day 1 - Home to St. George, Utah

Thinking it was going to be a long day, we were up, packed, and on the road by 5:43 a.m. Our first stop was for gas and two apple fritters—fuel for the car and fuel for us. From there, we took Loop 303 to US 60 for the drive to Wickenburg.

US 60 between Surprise and Wickenburg isn't the most scenic stretch of highway, so driving it in the dark seemed like the perfect way to begin the trip.

One bright spot was that Wickenburg has a Starbucks, making it a welcome stop before continuing north.

From Wickenburg, we followed US 93 for 122 miles to Interstate 40. Someday, US 93 is supposed to become Interstate 11, but I doubt I'll live long enough to see it. The northern half is a beautiful four-lane divided highway that looks and feels like an Interstate. The southern half, however, alternates between two and four lanes, making for a less consistent drive.

After a short stretch west on Interstate 40 to Kingman, we continued north on US 93 toward Las Vegas. Just before the always slow drive through Boulder City, we picked up the completed section of Interstate 11, which makes getting through Las Vegas much easier. By the time we reached the northwest side of town, it was definitely time for lunch—and that's when the day started to unravel. Barb searched her phone for a place to eat while I concentrated on navigating the traffic. She finally found a Subway that wasn't two exits behind us, but when we pulled into the parking lot, one look was all it took for both of us to decide to keep driving. Our next plan was to find something in Mesquite, Nevada.

After a little more searching, Barb found a restaurant inside a motel. Once we were seated, we realized we were actually sitting in the motel's breakfast room. We were just about to get up and leave when the server came around the corner to take our order. Fortunately, we stayed. The hamburgers were excellent, turning what looked like a questionable choice into one of the pleasant surprises of the day.

A short drive later, we arrived in St. George and checked into our hotel. Dinner that evening was at a Mexican restaurant that won't be making our list of places to revisit.

Despite a few bumps along the way, it was a good first day on the road. Tomorrow we'll begin touring a couple of independent living communities and get our first real look at what St. George has to offer.

Day 5 - St. George, Utah to home

Well, this should have been a great day and it almost was. Alarm was set for 6:30. but we were, of course, up at 6:00. Didn't take long to get the car loaded and we were at Cracker Barrel just after 7:00. Unlike the one in Flagstaff, this one was note woke. Rocking chairs, checker boards and lots of stuff on the wall. We a great server. She clued us in on how to get the buy one get one free breakfast. Barb did the magic online and it worked.

The best part of the drive today was through the Virgin River Canyon on Interstate 15 in Arizona. The rock formations are amazing and I can't imagine building a road through that terrain. What really surprised us was that we had driven this section of Interstate 15 only a few years ago and didn't remember a bit of it.

The drive through Las Vegas was what you would expect, lots of traffic and total disregard for the speed limit. The new Interstate 11 is a big plus, totally avoiding most of the traffic in Henderson and all in Boulder City.

A bit of excitement came on four lane, well divided section US 93. I was doing 73 in a 75, when a pickup truck pulling a trailer on a cross road decided to cross from left to right in front of us. I saw him in time to figure he wasn't going to stop, so was able to brake in time. The recording from the dash cam has been added to the file on close calls.

This is a clip from the dash cam. The truck ran two stop signs to get to this point. Click for video.

Once through Flagstaff, we headed East on Interstate 40 and then continued South on US 93. Somewhere we saw a sign warning of the crash ahead. Nothing much happened until we came to a complete stop on a two-lane section. After about 20 minutes a few cars came the other direction, giving hand signals to turn around. After a few minutes I did and what followed was a very long way around. Only a few (Steve, that's you) would know just how we went to get home. After backtracking about 20 miles or so we took a right on Highway 97 toward Bagdad, then a right on Highway 96 headed toward Hillside, then straight onto Highway 15 to Kirkland and finally a right on 89. All of this was somewhere around 55 miles of road I wouldn't drive at night and during the daytime only when forced to. We passed through Peoples Valley, Yarnell and Congress before rejoining Highway 93 just North of Wickenburg. At that turn on 93 there was no traffic coming from the where the accident was.

So, we got home a little late, but in one piece. Overall, this was one heck of a fun five days and as I have said earlier, we will be heading back to Escalante.