The Great Drive

On June 13th, I flew across Montana toward South Dakota in hopes of making it to Mount Rushmore. The clouds had been following me throughout the previous couple of weeks, and they were waiting at Mount Rushmore when I arrived just before the sun set behind the mountains. Fortunately they had already dropped their load upon the mountains, which allowed me a night of dry camping. I was happy to enjoy what would be my last night of camping on this trip. I celebrated in grand style with a roaring fire, scrumptious (but slightly too bloody pink) hamburgers, and nice cigar. It was a great feeling to be camping so near to Mount Rushmore.

I got an early start the next morning and headed straight for Mount Rushmore. On the campground host’s recommendation, I hit up the cafe on the park grounds for what is the best breakfast deal in the area. I highly recommend the Monumental Breakfast; it’s a steal at $5 including coffee. I enjoyed the next couple of hours learning all about the creation of Mount Rushmore. It is a spectacular sight to see in person, and the story behind its construction is uniquely American.

I left the park 12:30. It was the 13th of June and I had 900 miles to drive in one day in order to make my final destination. I pulled it off, flying across South Dakota, stopping only at the legendary Wall Drug, then through Minnesota, into Wisconson, and stopping early Friday morning in Madison.

After a few hours of sleep, I was up bright and early. I had only a few hours to get to my final destination of the trip: Chicago. The day was beautiful; the midday sun was bright and the warm air blowing through the top-down Mustang felt great. The only letdown was the ever-present Chicago traffic that caused me to be an hour and a few minutes late to meeting with friends at Wrigley Field for an afternoon baseball game.

Boy, it was a grand ending to my trip. Sitting in the bleachers– looking out over Wrigley field at 37,000 other fans, Sears tower in the distance to the left, hot dog and beer in-hand– a day does not get more perfect. 11,000 miles, 24 days, 16 states, 2 provinces, and 1 territory. It’s more driving than even I anticipated. But you cannot put a price on the memories of a great road trip.
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It has been a busy week here. My road trip has officially ended in my final location and I attended my good friend’s wedding. I’m taking a little time to enjoy the city. In the next few days I will reveal the location and the winner of the final Great Drive contest. Check in soon, and thanks for reading!

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The rain was back in Montana. It was enough to scare me off to a Holiday Inn in Billings for the evening. Along the way, though, I spotted a few beautiful rainbows, some nestled in the backdrop of a city of windmills.

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Miles June 9th: 304
Miles June 10th: 460
Total Miles: 7,355

I continued my eastward trek on Saturday, June 9th. I did not pull out from Fort St. John until nearly 5 p.m. I needed to catch up with work and run a few errands in town. It is frustrating to leave so late, especially when there is much progress to be made on the road.

Heading east the mountains transitioned to small hills, and eventually to flatlands as I entered Alberta. I stopped for the evening at a campground near Whitecourt, which is about an hour’s drive from Edmonton. It had been sprinkling off and on the entire day, but it seemed to clear by the time I arrived at the campground. I was happy to take the last spot, and was planning to light a small fire and enjoy a couple hamburgers.

About ten minutes after I arrived, it began to sprinkle, which turned to rain, which did not stop for the entire night. I settled for eating muffins in my rain-soaked tent. Needless to say, the next day packing up every soaking wet thing was not fun.

I have a friend from high school who lives in Calgary. I sent him a note to let him know I might be passing through. It was on my route to Montana, so I phoned him and we were able to meet on Sunday.

I was invited to enjoy a backyard grilling get-together with some friends of his family. He had known them from the same country where we attended high school, Oman. I had great time, enjoying free drinks, food, and Canadian humor. Thank you for the invitation ladies and gentlemen; the stop was welcome after the long trek through British Columbia and the Yukon.

It was 9 p.m., but I needed to make more progress for the day, so I said goodbye– about two hours after I had planned to leave. During conversation with Ewan, he mentioned the bobsled from Cool Runnings was at a nearby bar. I had to take a photo, knowing Cool Runnings was Sweetie’s absolute favorite movie.

After an hour and a half of driving south from Calgary, I camped again. But this time the weather was dry and very windy– a perfect night to dry all of my equipment.

Now back in the U.S. I’m making my way across Montana, and hopefully to Mt. Rushmore tomorrow, if time permits.

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Mile Since Portland: 2,142
Total Miles: 6,591

June 6^th

I had to stop a moment and take it in. It’s been a wet and busy last couple of days driving. Once I was determined to go north, I made it my mission to get here as quickly as possible. I sped up Interstate 5, meeting the Canadian border at the intersection of Washington state highway 539 and Canadian highway 13 at British Columbia.

It began to rain not long after my entry into Canada. And it has not paused to let the sunlight through. On the 5^th I hurried up Route 1 as quickly as I could, only stopping at a rest area when my eyes could no longer take being open. I got back on the road today after four brief and chilly hours of sleep in the car. I could waste no time if I was to do what I had hoped.

The rain has created a flooding of rivers that locals here have not seen for 35 years. Despite that, I sped onward luckily skirting the roads now closed because of flooding. But now I need gas. There are no gas stations within 40 miles, and the closest one requires a change of my plans, and it is closed for the evening.

So I am stuck here at a campground for the evening sleeping among the Black and Grizzly bears (a couple just spotted several outside the campground). My tent is setup under a picnic shelter to keep it dry. It will be a very cold night, and I didn’t think to bring a jacket on the trip.

But I am standing, staring out upon Lake Meziadin, just 40 miles from the Alaskan border. The sun has just peeked out and behind me the clouds have cleared just enough that I can see the majestic snow-covered mountains of the Babine Range. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a wonderful day.

June 7^th

I fell asleep last night not knowing what I was to do the next day. But when I awoke, I knew just where I wanted to go.

During the trip, I had been fighting with time and my desire to do one last goal for this trip. That was to drive the Alaska Highway all the way to U.S. border. But, I also need to be in [secret city] by June 14^th for a friends wedding.

I had been hurriedly driving north through British Columbia through what I thought was a shortcut, being highway 37. But as of last night, I still wasn’t sure if I could make it all the to the Alaska Highway and have time to head west 500 miles to the border. However this morning I was determined to make a best effort and continue north.

First I needed gas, and that was 40 miles east in Stewart, British Columbia. Several also said that part of the drive was the most beautiful in the region, and they were very right. It’s a great way to start your day, driving past mountains that seem to scrap the sky, piles of avalanched snow creeping up to the highway, and millions of years worth of ice amassed in the magnificent Bear Glacier. Even in Stewart, a portrait of the mountains hangs in the background, to be seen from anywhere in town.

Stewart also borders Hyder, Alaska, which I believe to be the only town in the U.S. who’s sole road leads only to Canada. I walked up to Hyder, but I did not cross. There was no customs agent or border guard. But there was commitment to my significant other whom I affectionately refer to as “Sweetie.” She was a bit disappointed at the possibility that I would be traveling to Alaska for the first time, and it would not be together. So in my days of driving well over a thousand miles just to reach the border of Alaska, I will not cross. For you, Sweetie.

I made my way north on Route 37, a road I thought to be a shortcut to the Alaska Highway. All was well during the first 100 miles or so. Then the lane markers disappeared. Giant unmarked potholes began to appear. Then only a thin layer of asphalt was left, and then none at all. The road would tease me, thinking the pavement was back, but then I would be surprised at 80 MPH when a section of it was no longer present and I had no warning. Then construction began. No road at all, soft shoulder, rocks from trucks flying at the Mustang, and mud soaked dirt all added to the adventure. It also added hours to my estimated driving time on Route 37.

It was already 7 PM by the time I reached the intersection of Route 37 and Route 1, the Alaska Highway. It was a critical juncture, if you’ll excuse the pun. I had to decide whether to drive 500 miles east to the border for another day of driving to complete my dream of driving the entire Alaska highway, or go east on Route 1 and make progress toward [secret city].

I considered both options, and thought about what I had desired to accomplish on this drive here. In a sense, I had already completed all three of my goals. I had desired to meet the border of Alaska, as I had at Hyder, to experience the wilderness and sometimes hairy driving of a backcountry highway leading there, as I had well-accomplished on Route 37. And I wanted to drive along the Alaska Highway which I would be doing now. Though it would not come together how I anticipated, it nonetheless happened how I had dreamed. That’s the beauty of free travel. Life lets you know where to go and it all comes together just as it should.

Be sure to have a look at the photo gallery. Though challenging, the drive was magnificently beautiful in a way I cannot describe through words.

June 8^th

It was a splendid beginning to the morning. The sky was blue; I started a small fire and made a little coffee. Then I visited the park’s main attraction, Liard Hot Springs. The government left the springs as natural as was practical. My dip in the hot water was very enjoyable, and also served as my first bath in three days. The water begins at one end unbearably hot, and then flows to the other side where the temperature is merely warm.

I’m making my way east. I left the Rocky Mountains behind in the afternoon and rain clouds greeted my entrance into the flatter lands of East British Columbia. I stopped for the night in Fort St. John, apparently at the center of a big oil drilling operation.

Eastward ho!

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June 2nd

I must be the only person to lodge overnight in the Sonoma valley who did not attend a single wine tasting. How to do it? Spend the majority of the day at the Laundromat, washing clothes and updating your blog.

After my laundry and computer work I stopped at the Black Bear Inn restaurant, where the cook was MIA. I was impressed as one of the wait staff did her best to be the cook and everyone else stepped up to fill in the gaps. My waiter was an energetic fellow who randomly went into a fake pseudo-British accent and answered everyone with, “Yes, my love.”

I did arrive at the single winery I had planned to visit while passing through Sonoma. Unfortunately, the wine tasting at Chateau St. John had closed just 20 minutes prior. I considered that my omen to return to Route 1 and continue up the Pacific Coast.

June 3rd

The highways along the Pacific Coast must be the most continuously beautiful stretch of road in the United States. Every single turn winding along the coastal ridges reveals something new and spectacular. The asphalt hugs the side of the mountains, making for lively driving as I guess whether the next turn is safe to accelerate, or if I will be pushing the brake to the floor to avoid becoming an object floating in the ocean.

Unfortunately, the winding road also makes for very slow progress. Today it took me some three hours to travel just 60 miles along the coast. But I had dreamed to drive the Pacific coast, so I will persist onward.

My perfect end to the day is at a campground in the Redwoods National Forest. As I type, I’m sitting next to a warm campfire and smoking a cigar in a forest full of the oldest trees on Earth.

Oh, I just realized the irony.

June 4th

After a relaxing evening sleeping among the giant Redwoods, I continued up the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway. I pulled off onto Cal-Barrel Road. I begin to feel like a miniature person as I slowly crept along the dirt road in a forest full of some of the park’s oldest trees.

I progressed onward via Highway 101 North. As I have never been to Oregon before, I stopped at the Oregon border to snap a picture of the welcome sign. I wrestled with continuing on the coastal highway as I slowly wound around the hills and slowed even more to pass through the small towns dotting the coast. After five days driving along the California coast, I decided it was enough for me. I was beginning to suffer from scenery fatigue and I had been progressing so slowly that time was beginning to become a real issue.

I joined the masses and met up with Interstate 5 to continue north. Last night I stopped in Portland and today the goal is simple: go north.

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Miles May 31st and June 1st: 342
Total Miles: 3701

May 31^st

The squeak in the steering was just that; I was ready to get back on the road after a little tightening, an oil change, and $96 later. I did a cursory check of the fluid and tire pressure. That’s when I discovered the passenger front was down to 23.5 pounds. To make a long story short, a previous repair to the tire was failing. That resulted in the replacement of the two of the Mustang’s tire. Total repair bill for the day: $311.

It was already late in the day, so I made what progress I could. On my way up Highway 1, I spotted sign for elephant seals. You’ll find these beasts about 7 miles north of San Simeon. It’s quite a sight to see them waddle, cackle and lazily pile, sleeping on the beach. Plug your nose though, the stench is quite lofty.

June 1^st

I stopped the night before at Plaskett Creek campground, about 30 miles south of Big Sur. I had a great time, and learned how to properly create a campfire courtesy of my camp neighbors. Friday was the continuation of yet more driving along the magnificent California coast. The drive was patterned with numerous stops to take pictures; around every bend, I was in awe of yet another beautiful vista.

My stop in San Francisco was brief – to take a token picture of the Golden Gate. I crossed the bridge into Sausalito. I was fascinated by an entire marina of eternally anchored houseboats. Next I was on to Sonoma, neighbor to Napa.

I snagged a spectacular cottage room at the Lodge At Sonoma by Renaissance. Courtesy goes to Priceline.com, where I got a rate about one quarter the market rate. The cottage room was amazing. I decided to take advantage of the event by dining on pizza and a fine glass of a Sonoma Pinot by the fireplace, soak in the tub while reading a book, and then showered three days of grime from my legs and arms. After many days on the road, this little vacation from the Great Drive is exactly what I needed.

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May 30th
Miles: 304
Total Miles: 3359

Los Angeles is an interesting place. There are interesting people and interesting landmarks. But Los Angeles is not pretty. Actually, it’s quite ugly. Everywhere. Unless you live in a many million-dollar palace in Beverly Hills, or on a hill, chances are your home will be in a pretty yucky locale.

That’s why Santa Monica came as a breath of fresh ocean air as I arrived on the Pacific coast. On my way there, I spotted a Hawaiian BBQ joint and enjoyed a tasty and filling lunch of beef, Kalbi, and chicken with rice and macaroni salad – just like the islands. If you’ve never been to Hawaii, you might not know they make a pretty mean BBQ. It’s an an take with a sweeter soy-based flavor, and it is yummy!

Santa Monica sits right on the coast, and skirting along the edge of the Pacific is the famed Pacific Coast Highway. One of my goals for this Great Drive was to cruise along the PCH. The highway runs along most of the California coast, but every now and again it breaks off in more urban areas, as it did in Ventura. Scenic Highway 33 seemed a more interesting drive, so I took a detour. It was a spectacular drive cutting through Los Padres National forest and along the peaks of the Sierra Madre Mountains. The pictures don’t quite do justice to being there in person, but they will give you a taste.

After a night camping at Morro Bay State Park, I back-tracked southward to San Luis Obispo to troubleshoot a squeak in my steering. I left the car at Perry Ford and enjoyed an interesting meal at the Starlet Cafe. They make a mean avocado, bacon, tomato, and cheese omelet (the #12). Be sure to strike up a conversation with the owner’s son, it will be unforgettable.

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After jetting across Arizona and the California desert, I have arrived in the concrete jungle. The visit is brief, but has been fun thus far. On Monday, I caught up with my good friend Brad and cousin Jason.

They took me downtown to Hollywood, through the standard tour of the Chinese theater and walk of stars. It is much smaller than it appears to be on television and film. Nonetheless, it was fun to step on Halle Berry and check out the likes of Frank Sinatra and his footprints. Dinner was at California Pizza Kitchen and we caught up on life and career. This morning, Brad and I made a stop at a quintessential L.A. landmark, Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles. Fried chicken. Waffles. On the same plate. Yummy!

I decided not to take many photos because, really, you have seen it all. It’s Hollywood, man.

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May 27th Miles: 598
Total Miles: 2698

Today I had planned to drive toward northern Arizona via Highway 160 and on to Highway 89, skirting through southern Utah. However at Shiprock, New Mexico I unknowingly began heading south. Only after an hour of driving and gut feeling did I stop and ask what road I was driving. After confirming my suspicion, I made a decision to change course.

In order to see a good friend in Los Angeles, I needed to ideally arrive in L.A. by Monday. That would not happen if I was to continue on the small stretches of back roads like I had been driving in previous days. I decided to stay on New Mexico Highway 491 South, meet up with Interstate 40, and head west toward Los Angeles– the quick way.

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May 26th Miles: 490
Total Miles: 2100

Saturday was a drive of beauty. I continued my trek westward, stopping in Guymon, Oklahoma for a roadside picnic. My progress slowed considerably as I stayed there for lunch and to update you on Friday’s activities – about three hours all told.

I did my best to make a brisk pace as I entered New Mexico. Passing storms just after the border slowed me somewhat. But I was stopped cold by the awe-inspiring views along Highway 64 from Cimarron to Taos. I could not help but drive slowly and take in the moment. I do not have the vocabulary to adequately describe how magnificent this part of New Mexico is.

After dinner in Taos, I pressed onward in hope of making more progress. Highway 64 continues through the San Juan Mountains and Carson National Forest. It was dark and the temperature dropped to frigid degrees as I climbed and twisted through the moon soaked mountains. Even at night it was a beautiful drive. But, unless you are a die-hard Yooper, I do not recommend attempting the drive at night. Only those hardened by years of dodging deer flying across the road, sometimes confused and running toward the road, would be able to handle the drive without ending up with a new hood ornament — and I came very close on more than one occasion. I must’ve avoided nearly fifty deer—and I think one Elk—during that drive.

My reward for the hard work was El Vado Lake State Park. In the middle of nowhere, the campground overlooks the glistening El Vado Lake and lush mesa that lie in the background. Even at night it was a grand sight. The price to pitch my tent: $10. Waking up on the cliff of El Vado lake: Priceless.

As I have driven these beautiful United States, I think about how fortunate some of us are to live in this country. Many have fought—and died—for you and I to be able to enjoy the splendor and freedom of this land. On this Memorial weekend, please take just a moment to recognize those who made that sacrifice for us.

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May 25th Miles: 461
Total Miles: 1610

Murphy is clearly accompanying me on this trip. About 5 minutes after I left the gas station, where I had spent the night before cramped into my car sleeping, I spotted a sign for a lovely looking public use riverside park and campground.

Branson, Missouri was only a 30 minutes drive through the twisty rolling roads. My first stop in Branson was the historic downtown section. At first, I thought this was the famous area where tourists from the middle states flock to for their summer getaway. I didn’t get it. I mean, it was quaint and all, but there were no giant billboards touting the performance of some white guy with big, fake hair who was last famous during the Johnson-era. I did however visit a store that would be my Sweetheart’s very worst nightmare. I learned the meaning of a word some months back, and it would sum up this establishment perfectly: kitsch.

Knowing there had to be more to this town, I looked at the map once more. That is when I discovered the real Branson. The one with the theaters and giant electronic billboards touting Branson’s most popular quartet, the Grand Jubilee at 6 p.m.; the awesome animal show at 10 a.m.; Dick Clark’s; some other guy, and some other guy, and some other guy that was famous about 30 years before I was born.

Branson is an enormously corny place. It is also somewhat endearing. The whole place exists to reminisce about a time long past, about more innocent and happy times when things were simpler. Even though in reality those times weren’t nearly as simple and innocent as the memories tend to be remembered, there is something comforting about it. This is Las Vegas for country-music-listening Christian folk.

I consumed the rest of the day making progress across Oklahoma. Since I did not leave Branson until nearly 3 p.m., I opted for the Interstate in hopes of making a little more progress. Oklahoma is home to vast flatlands – the kind I was expecting to see more of during my drive through Missouri. Interstate 42 carried me to 412 West at a speed of just above 80 MPH. They set real speed limits out here. Maybe because driving is the most interesting thing you can do in a land full of brown.

This day, I was more successful in finding a campground to stop for the night. My first stop was at Little Sahara state park. There appeared to be a dune buggy and ATV convention going on. There may have been a spot to set up. but I was not going to stay around to find out. Beer-drinking shirtless white guys riding around in four-wheeler’s was not my idea of camping fun.

I eventually made my way further west to Boiling Springs State Park where I pitched the tent for the evening. As I type I’m sitting in the tent, tucked into a sleeping bag on top of an air mattress, happy after a comfy night of sleep — finally.

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May 24th Miles: 514
Total Miles: 1149

The happiness chart best illustrate the day’s high and low points.

It was a beautiful start. I had a hearty sleep at the Best Value Inn in Lebanon, TN. After my morning routine, I was ready to continue on. Looking out of the motel window, I was pleased to find blue skies. Unlike the day before, I would make use of the Mustang’s convertible feature for most of today’s leg.

I generally cruise about 10 MPH over the speed limit. With a speedo error of 2 MPH, this usually puts me into the safe zone for not getting cop’s attention. I came into Nashville about 30 minutes into the drive. The speed limit moved down from 70, to 65, and then back to 70. Unfortunately, I did not realize it had dropped again, to 65, in the metro outskirts of the city.

So… I explained to the officer that my permanent license plate had not arrived and thus why I was driving with a temporary tag. He was more interested in why I was 15 MPH over the speed limit. Unfortunately, cops rarely have sympathy for not seeing the speed limit change. This cop had no sympathy.

Unphased, I did not let the $92 ticket that will likely raise my insurance affect me — for long. I was heading westward to Kentucky.

On my drive up Interstate 24 I kept seeing signs for attractions in Paducah, KY. With so many road signs touting the arts district and historic downtown, I surmised, there must be things worth seeing.

Paducah has an attractive downtown. It sits on the bank of the might Tennesse river, and large floodwall protects the city. On the wall is a small town masterpiece depicting, in very patriotic fashion, historic events and figures related to the town’s history. For such an old town, the buildings look uncharacteristically shiny and well kept. As I later discovered driving through the less-desirable parts, Paducah seems to be a town losing its industry and is trying to make up with revenue through tourism.

Southwestern kentucky is filled with lush, green, rolling hills, but I changed dramtically as I crossed over the Tennessee river into Missouri. There is something beautiful about fields of gold and green, as far as one can see. I think it’s the openness that made me feel completely free and unencumbered. With the convertible top down and radio up — for a few minutes — I no longer thought about worries that lie in the back of my mind.

Something I love about driving across the country is the surprising change of landscape. Today was no different, as I left the flatlands behind and again met up with filled forest and small mountains that made my ears pop. I finally left the Interstate behind and turned onto highway 160 in the southern-most part of Missouri.

The drive was an absolute thrill. I love roads where the speed limit is posted — and they mean it. The twists, turns, hills up and down were just hairy enough to give me white knuckles at times, but it also put a big smile on my face.

I was determine to camp for the night, especially after the previous two nights wussing it in a motel so I could enjoy the finale of American Idol. (Although, after seeing this in the middle of the road, I began to question my plans.) I searched fruitlessly for two campgrounds shown on the road atlas. I found only one. It was a private campground, the owners had gone to sleep, and a patron warned my not to stay unless I had reserved a spot on the grounds.

Frustrated, I headed West, and eventually made my stop for the night at a gas station parking lot just outside of Branson. I discovered my car seats do not recline very much. It made for a rough night of sleep. But I managed to sleep a bit — with earplugs, a washcloth over my face, and a towel as a blanket. It’s part of the adventure!

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May 23rd Miles: 435
Total Miles: 635

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Miles Today: 200

I hit the road today. The drive was uneventful. Spare a pile of drywall flying off the roof of a truck directly in front of me. Oh, and traffic halting on the interstate which resulted in a rather worried look from the man in the Dodge Ram truck directly behind me as he appeared to be in battle with his truck’s brakes. It’s the perfect time to tout the wonders and potential life saving of ABLA (always be looking around). It’s like a seat belt for the brain.

The rest of the drive was a pleasure. I enjoyed the rolling hills of northwestern Virginia — top down until a light drizzle spoiled the fun.

My drive ended in Natural Bridge, VA. It is just off of Interstate 81 and also parallels the Blue Ridge Parkway, a road whose name hints at a scenic journey through the beautiful Appalachians. Not for me. My stop was at the Pink Cadillac Diner for dinner. A clever attempt at getting travelers to stop at an exit otherwise empty, save for a gas station. My burger left a bit to be desired, but the kitschy classic Americana decor more than made up for it.

Today was a short jaunt — only a little more than 3 hours on the pavement. A greater event was calling. American Idol was on at 8 and I wasn’t going to miss it.

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It’s time for me to get out of the office and on the road!

 While you’re waiting, check out my original drive in the winter of 1999. Yes, a blog in 1999. I was a pioneer of the times!

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