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 “Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

Ernest Hemingway — Wikipedia photo

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

“I know war as few other men now living know it, and nothing to me is more revolting. I have long advocated its complete abolition, as its very destructiveness on both friend and foe, has rendered it useless as a method of settling international disputes.”

“Man is not made for defeat … The man who has begun to live more seriously within begins to live more simply without.”

– Ernest Hemingway on booze, writing, war and life.

Thoughts of Hemingway Along the way

 

The turn-by-turn guide to Route 66 http://www.historic66.com/description/ I was following got me thinking about Hemingway.

Old postcard advertising the Villa de Cubero

 It mentioned the rumor that the author might have written parts of “The Old Man and the Sea” while staying at the Villa de Cubero in Cubero.

I’ve seen Hemingway’s homes in Key West, Florida and Sun Valley, Idaho, where I actually met one of his granddaughters, and have stood before a memorial in his honor that sits beside the Big Wood River, so of course I was interested in this New Mexico connection.

Actually, I usually visit any place along the way that involves known writers. As a writer myself, I’m fascinated picturing aspects of my wordsmith colleagues.

A 1999 photo of about the only thing still doing business in Cubero. — Flicker photo

 

Cubero is not quite a ghost town, I noted as I passed through without stopping. Not sure now why I didn’t. I think because I wasn’t sure which of the crumbling ruins was where Hemingway stayed and I had gotten a late start this day and wanted to get to Flagstaff by day’s end.

I only got to Gallup, however, before calling it a day. I do tend to dally in my travels.

Meanwhile, intrigued by the Hemingway connection to Route 66, I got online and discovered this 1999 blog http://www.dukecityfix.com/profiles/blogs/the-cubero-adventures about Hemingway’s Cubero adventure. I definitely would have stopped if I had read it first.

I also discovered that Lucille Ball had stayed at the Villa de Cubero when she and Desi split.

Sometimes it seems like such a small world we live in. Connections seem to be everywhere.

Bean’s Pat: The Power of the Sun http://tinyurl.com/7sufeox The Blonde Coyote takes action that’s good for the environment and eventually her budget.

 “Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” – G. K. Chesterton

This botanical dragon captured my imagination, making me think of Camelot and fairy tales, when I began my tour of Albuquerque’s botanical gardens. –Photo by Pat Bean

Zoo, Aquarium and Garden

The cost of spending a night in an RV park since I became a full-time RV-er eight years ago has doubled. It was big news in 2004 when gas jumped above $2 a gallon. Now it’s not all that unusual for me to pay $4 a gallon.

A trio of elephants (grandma, mom and kid) were my zoo favorites this day, but the photo of this trio of zebras came out better. — Photo by Pat Bean

And if you eat, you know what’s happened to food costs in recent years.

The rising prices have slowed my travels and put Ramen noodles back on my menu a time or two a week.

So it was with much delight that I welcomed the great bargain I found in Albuquerque just off Route 66. The senior price for a combo ticket to the city’s zoo, aquarium and botanical gardens was only $5.

Since all three are high on my things-to-do list when visiting new places, I was, as they say in Texas, in hog heaven.

I arrived early and actually found a shady spot to park Gypsy Lee in the aquarium/botanical gardens parking lot. Before getting started with my sight-seeing, I tried to Pepper-proof my RV, making sure all paper and electrical cords were out of my six-month-old puppy’s reach. I also opened windows and vents so it would stay pleasantly cool for her, and refilled her water bowl.

It was the attention to details, like these fish handles on the glass aquarium door that reflects the landscaped patio, that enhanced my enjoyment of my Albuquerque day. — Photo by Pat Bean

Today was a test on how Pepper would react being left alone for a few hours. She had done well enough on shorter stays that I hadn’t invested in a crate. I was hoping today would justify that decision. After all, my small RV is just a big crate in itself.

My combo ticket included a round-trip, 20-minute ride to the zoo and I did that first.

When I returned a couple of hours later, I checked on Pepper, who greeted me like I was a sailor long-lost at sea. The inside of my RV, thankfully, was undamaged, and so after a quick potty-break walk around the parking lot, I left Pepper again for another couple of hours.

This time I worried a little less about her, and thoroughly enjoyed my tour of the aquarium and gardens.

I got the same welcome, full of slobbery kisses, from Pepper the second time I returned to Gypsy Lee. The only change in the RV was that this time Pepper had gotten into her toy box and scattered them about. It was nice to know she had been having fun the same as me.

And nice to know there are still things to do when one’s budget is limited.

Bean’s Pat: Happy Couple http://tinyurl.com/d8sjtxl Now this is a park I would love to visit.

Back on the Road

 “Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you’re riding through the ruts, don’t complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don’t bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality. Wake up and live! – Bob Marley

To Route 66

1940s map showing the Santa Fe detour.

I missed a few parts of the Route 66 section I recently traveled in order to tell you about my Zion National Park adventures in a real-time scenario.

So consider the next few blogs as flashbacks.

Santa Rosa was where I left you, at the Blue Hole (May 11th blog), if you remember.

From there it was on and off Interstate 40 to drive one or the other of the still-remaining patches of The Mother Road on the way to Albuquerque. I missed the best part of the old highway because I didn’t take the side trip to Santa Fe. I didn’t take it because of time considerations and the high cost of gas these days.

My consolation for not taking it was that on my trips between Utah, where I lived for 25 years, and Texas, where family lived, I drove this section of Route 66 dozens of times. I would suggest you don’t miss the detour if you’ve never traveled this way before. From visiting the Georgia O’Keefe Museum or the St. Francis Cathedral to simply strolling through Santa Fe’s colorful downtown, it’s well worth the time and gas.

What there was a never shortage of when I drove were May roadside flowers. — Photo by Pat Bean

My drive to Albuquerque, meanwhile, took me past Clines Corner, where a lone service station and cafe began life in the mid-1930s, the same time as Route 66 came into being.

Perseverance has turned the site, named after its original entrepreneur, Roy Cline, into a large travel center complex, complete with a huge trading post that is advertised on large billboards for miles.

It, too, was a place I had stopped at often in my previous travels – and so I simply waved my hand in its direction as I passed on by, eager to get to Albuquerque.

This largest city in New Mexico remembers Route 66 fondly – and uses it as a business and tourist gimmick.

For more than 10 miles I followed Route 66 signs, from the beginning of the town’s East Central Avenue to the end of its West Central Avenue. No boarded-up, falling-down businesses distressed me here. And I was thankful my RV, Gypsy Lee, is undersized because traffic was pretty much bumper-to-bumper.

It was actually refreshing, considering the alternative that was so visible in the many ruins that dotted most of the old highway I had traveled since leaving Amarillo. .

It left me wondering, however, how some businesses survived and some didn’t?

It would be easy to say the bigger towns had it easier – and perhaps they did. But then there were Cline’s Corner and the Midpoint Cafe that aren’t big at all. And they’re still doing well.

And that brings us back to life. What’s the difference between thriving and despairing?

Anybody have the magic answer?

Bean’s Pat: Serenity Spell http://tinyurl.com/89fpk63 A charming tale of mice and fairies. There’s too much seriousness in the world, so take a break from it. .

 “Precisely the least, the softest, lightest, a lizard’s rustling, a breath, a flash, a moment – a little makes the way of the best happiness.” – Fredrich Nietzsche

 

Blue-bellied lizard — Photo by Pat Bean

 

Blue-Bellied Lizard

When I hiked the Kayenta Trail Saturday, instead of Angel’s Landing, I came across a blue-bellied lizard, a sight I had never seen before.

I’d say this is a lizard with attitude. Don’t you agree? — Photo by Pat Bean

Well that’s probably not accurate. I had just never seen this lizard’s belly before. This lizard, however, was propped up in such a way that the cobalt blue underside was clearly visible. It even posed long enough for me to take a picture before it scrambled away to safety.

The next day, when my son and his family and I were hiking, we came across a northern pygmy owl sitting in a tree not far off the trail to Weeping Rock.

My son, Lewis and his wife, Karen, were thrilled. They’re avid birders, like me – and the owl was a lifer for both of them. While I had seen this cute little owl before, I had never seen one eating a blue-bellied lizard. And this is exactly what it was doing.

While I didn’t bemoan the loss of a lizard to the owl, I kinda hoped it wasn’t the same lizard I had seen the day before. I had grown sort of fond of that one.

The one being eaten by the pygmy owl brought some Shakespeare words to mind. I know, my brain’s a bit warped. Anyway:

“Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble,Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”

Bean’s Pat: Shakespeare Geek http://blog.shakespearegeek.com/ I wondered after I wrote the above quote if there were any blogs devoted to Shakespeare. Quite a few. This is just one. I thought you might find it fun.

 

 

I Didn’t Do It

 “If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again.” – Flavia Weedn

Here’s the traditional photo of me at the start of the hike to the top of Angel’s Landing in the background. But this year I chose the less-traveled trail. — Photo by Karen Bean

And I Have No Regrets

For an old broad, I’m in pretty good shape. But not good enough, I accepted this past weekend, to climb to the top of Angel’s Landing.

Instead I chose a path less traveled, and was well rewarded for it.

I said good-bye to my son, Lewis, his wife, and my two grandsons, at the Angel’s Landing trail head. The four of them had met me here in Zion National Park for Mother’s Day, a real treat as I am usually far away from any family members on this day.

I’ve been to the top of Angel’s Landing in Zion about 30 times. It was an April birthday tradition for me. Lewis, when he was younger, accompanied me on several of those occasions. It was an experience he wanted to share this past weekend with his family.

As the four of them turned right, just past the bridge over the Virgin River onto the Angel’s Landing trail, I turned left. My path would take me on a two-mile hike, via the Emerald Pools, back to where I could catch the shuttle and return to my RV to await their return.

My reward for being sensible this day was that I had the first mile of the trail completely to myself. This is a rare treat in Zion these days, as the park has an extremely high visitation rate.

While the view of the river and valley below wasn’t quite as spectacular as the one from atop Angel’s Landing, the peace I felt observing it made up for the difference.

I also, perhaps for the first time in my life, felt at peace with myself in accepting that I no longer could do everything I could once do.

Bean:s Pat: Everyday Wisdom #43 http://tinyurl.com/6nc3lky A great way to slow yourself down and live in the moment.

 “Misunderstanding is my cornerstone. It’s everyone’s, come to think of it. Illusions mistaken for truth are the pavement under our feet.” – Barbara Kingsolver

What I Didn’t See

 

Looking across the deceptive shallow waters. — Photo by Pat Bean

There was only one thing left to do in Santa Rosa after my canine traveling companion, Pepper, and I left the Route 66 Auto Museum. Pay a visit to the Blue Hole.

Roadside signs advertising it had been tantalizing me for miles.

I found the attraction just a few blocks off Santa Rosa’s main Route 66 drag. I wasn’t impressed, seeing not at all what the hullabaloo was about. The Blue Hole looked like nothing more than a small, natural swimming hole that had been fancied up a bit.

Even the fancy diving pier didn’t clue me in. — Pat Bean

Pepper and I saw nary a soul as we walked all the way around it, which took about 10 minutes, before getting back on the road and heading to Albuquerque.

It was only later, when I did my usual curious-to-learn-more internet search, that I discovered why I should have paid the Blue Hole more attention. It was sort of like meeting a mild-mannered reporter named Clark never knowing that a Superman lay beneath.

What Pepper and I didn’t see was the 80-foot wide, 240-foot deep artesian well below the surface, its waters so crystal clear that scuba divers come for all over to dive in it.

There’s also a grate down there, blocking the hazardous entrance to some underwater caves that back in 1976 took the lives of two divers

There’s a lesson here. A familiar one. Never judge a book by its cover – or a pond by only what you can see.

Bean’s Pat: Pretty in Purple http://tinyurl.com/bqrz9vc If you’ve never seen a purple gallinule, then here’s your opportunity. And if you’ve seen one, I’m sure you’ll want another look.

“Reckless automobile driving arouses the suspicion that much of the horse sense of the good old days was possessed by the horse.” – Unknown

High up on a pole, this bright yellow vehicle advertises the Route 66 Auto Museum. — Photo by Pat Bean

Running Board Back in Time

After a night spent at the Santa Rosa RV Campground, where you can order a western-style barbecue dinner be delivered to your motorhome, I decided to check out the town’s Route 66 Auto Museum.

The running board on this old vehicle took me back in time. — Photo by Pat Bean

One of the spiffy, polished cars on display here had a running board. Not writing it down in my notebook at the time,, and not being a car buff, I can’t recall the make of the car, just as I can’t remember the make of the old car with the running board that my dad owned.

While my dad’s car never looked anything at all like the flashy, polished-to-a-reflective-shine, ivory-colored car on display at the museum, the sight of the running board sent a jolt of memory through my body. I clearly remembered standing on just such a running board many years ago.

The thrill of that brief moment, when I was about 6 years old, was relieved in all its Technicolor excitement. I remembered holding onto the car door for dear life as my dad drove his car down the driveway of my grandmother’s home.

My dad would probably get arrested for child endangerment today.

Route 66 heydays: When Elvis was hot, wild and young. — Photo by Pat Bean

Of course so would I.

The first cars I drove didn’t come equipped with seat belts. I remember once driving to the store, holding a baby on my lap with one hand, and with a death grip on the steering wheel with the other hand.

I also remember frequently flinging my right hand out to keep a child sitting next to me from doing a death plunge into the windshield when I had to stop suddenly. Back in the 1950s, a lot of moms were expert at this maneuver.

Thankfully I survived, and so did all my kids.

The upside is that my canine traveling companion, Pepper, who occupies the passenger seat of my RV today, gets the benefits of my youthful right-hand-flinging practice.

Bean’s Pat: My Life is a Scream: http://tinyurl.com/6vrdpbl A hilarious take on Edvard Munch’s “The Scream” selling for $120 million dollars.

 

This is how Pepper spends much of her time as we drive Route 66, her chin on the co-pilot arm rest staring at me. I actually snapped this picture as I drove down a lonely stretch of the road. Any guesses about what she is thinking? — Photo by Pat Bean

The Dog

I lie belly-up
In the sunshine, happier than
You ever will be.

Today I sniffed
Many dog butts—I celebrate
By kissing your face.

I sound the alarm!
Paperboy—come to kill us all —
Look! Look! Look! Look! Look!

… Sleeping here, my chin
On your foot—no greater bliss—well,
Maybe catching cats.

Look in my eyes and
Deny it. No human could
Love you as much I do.

I came across the poem above and it made me laugh. I don’t know who wrote it. Do you?

Bean’s Pat: Joy http://jmgoyder.com/2012/05/06/joy/  Very true words. I loved this blogger’s thoughts.

History is representational, while time is abstract; both of these artifices may be found in museums, where they span everybody’s own vacancy.” – Robert Smithson

I remember paying only three cents to mail a letter. Does anybody else? — Photo by Pat Bean

The Good Old Days? Or Not?

When you get to be an old broad like me, historical museums let you relive your life. That was especially true of the recent morning I spent at the Tucumcari Historical Museum.

The telephone switchboard on display took me back in time to the late 1950s. I had worked one of those machines when I was a Western Union operator back in the 1950s, after teaching myself to type on a manual typewriter like the one that sat nearby the switchboard.

First Tucumcari bathtub the sign said. Thankfully this was an item that was before my time. Not only was this bathtub child size, you had to heat the water that went in it. As I said, everything wasn’t the good old days. — Photo by Pat Bean

The treadle sewing machine on display looked exactly like the one my grandmother used, like the one I put a needle through my finger with when I was five years old. .

And then there was the stamp vending machine. Remember when stamps only cost a penny for a postcard and three cents for a first-class letter?

The television set on exhibit, however, looked a lot bigger than the first one in our home. I was 15 when we got it, so essentially I grew up without one. That’s hard for my grandkids to believe.

Some say those were the good old days. I’m not so sure. I think, like all of life, we get some good mixed in with the bad, whatever year it is.

Bean’s Pat: Oliver’s Story http://tinyurl.com/7c5gc99 This story goes far beyond one lost bird

 “If you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Yogi Berra

Cactus Motor Lodge

Tucumcari, New Mexico, is a city full of Route 66 memories.

Until you take a closer look. — Photo by Pat Bean

One of those is the old Cactus Motor Lodge where I stayed this past week. Not in the lodge itself, but on the property where it once stood.

While the former well-used motel rooms, some with their own auto garages, sit vacant and ghostly, the grounds have been turned into a landscaped RV park. While I was there, it was popular with both travelers and western kingbirds, the latter an especially nice touch for this avid birdwatcher. The gray flycatchers with their bright yellow belllies were all over the place.

The historic stone lodge, once neatly trimmed with bright orange and yellow paint, was built in the 1930s. Its office was converted from an old dance hall, where gambling was conducted illegally in the basement, according to some unsubstantiated information I turned up on the internet.

The dance hall supposedly had an escape tunnel, which was most likely cemented in when a swimming pool was built at the lodge in the 1950s. At least that was the guess of new owners who looked for the tunnel, but couldn’t find it.

Memories from Route 66’s past, when gas was only 39 cents a gallon, seeped into my thoughts as I walked my canine traveling companion, Pepper, around and around and around the property. She’s a young dog with a gazillion tons of energy and I’m an old broad who needs to keep walking.

We’re the perfect pair of wanderers. And Route 66 is providing us with plenty of colorful opportunities to wander off the beaten track.

Bean’s Pat: This Man’s Journey http://tinyurl.com/7wkhksa A different take on the photo challenge.  Perhaps we all need to unfocus a bit.