Last Roadtrip Barbeque Sammich

FRANKLIN/NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE – Our second day here, Mothers’ Day Sunday, we decided to explore the surrounding area as well as Franklin itself.

Franklin has done a great job of protecting and preserving its “downtown,” and it is a great destination for shopping in upscale but local stores largely free of the international boutiques and, even more, for eating. And so, not being shoppers, we ate in our usual style, at a sidewalk café with the dogs. Gus had a mere corned beef and cabbage but Cece had an over-the-top bread pudding French toast with blueberries. OMG. It truly made up for missing the pain perdu in Louisiana.

We suspect these Civil War monuments, south and north, were all done by the same company.

After cooling off a bit—the car thermometer said 100°—we headed for an interesting and very beautiful nearby countryside—Leiper’s Fork and the pre-Columbian Natchez Trace and the National Parkway (highway) that now follows it closely from Natchez, Mississippi to Nashville.

After a bit of trial and error—what else is new?—we found a section of the actual ancient trail (trace) that was both beautiful and accessible—and wide enough to allow us to avoid the poison ivy. There we were, for a few hundred yards anyway, on a trail that was used extensively pre-Columbian, Colonial, Frontier—indeed on up to motorized travel. And we were walking on it too.

Gus on Natchez Trace

Cece is holding on for dear life.

This bridge has won architectural awards.

The parkway paralleling the trace—imagine a scaled-down Skyline Drive—took us to the most famous feature, the striking and remarkably high double arch bridge that spans the valley below. It has won architectural awards, but is not a bridge to walk—though everyone does—if you have vertigo. We saw a large family walk out onto the bridge. The father had the one-year-old on his shoulders. The next time we looked, the mother was off the bridge back by the car with the baby, while the rest of the family remained to enjoy the view.

We also visited Leiper’s Fork, a collection of old homes and shops that have been converted into antique, local crafts, and art shops, as well as eateries. There were lots of other folks there, but we have learned not to care. It is authentic, not a replica, thus the crowd.

Shop at Leiper's Fork

Gus going for real BBQ sammich!

Just to have something to do, Cece and Gus split a barbeque sammich from Puckett’s. Quite delicious! This Puckett’s is a true old-fashioned place to eat barbeque, and, except for the fact that it was cafeteria rather than buffet, it reminded us of Dukes’ barbeque in South Carolina in the 1950s.

We sat outside again, so that Weezie and Capers could join us and have a few bites of the sammich. And, as at lunch and earlier, all the passing by families, especially those with children, want to stop and pet the dogs, rub their tummies, know their histories and their ages etc. etc. The dogs love it, and it really went over-the-top when we said it was Weezie’s birthday!

It is really quite lovely when these human-dog-human conversations get going and the kids are cuddling up with the dogs.  There is something a lot more going on that needs to be understood, something deeper. These are moments of biophilia, of reaching into the past for another era, of wanting today to experience something, anything, that involves affection and response that is genuine, uncomplicated, unconditional. It’s quite amazing, really. Of course, it helps that the dogs don’t stink to high heaven!

Our wonderful roadtrip is effectively over.  It is sad, but we have had a ball and are ready to see our children and grands and to return to regular life and friends in Vermont. We will spend tonight with dear friends in Charleston, West Virginia, and then on to our son Charlie’s in Washington. At that point, we pick up a trail that runs through our son Jim’s place in Princeton and on to Strafford, our home.  It is a trail we know like the back of our hands.

We may write again to comment on the trip, to reflect, to wrap up, to thank again. But we hope you think these posts stand alone for what they are—the observations of a couple of septuagenarians and two dogs as they adventure to new and interesting and often beautiful places, meeting some great people along the way.

Another thing that has made the trip enjoyable, in addition to our own delightful company, is that we laugh a lot, we think each other's jokes are funny, and we enjoy a bit of teasing.

Cece recently said "I must stop eating." To which Gus asked "Do you plan on doing that before or after you die" and Cece replied "I haven't decided."

Nashville: A Trip to the Opera

FRANKLIN/NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE – Happy Mothers Day!

It was a second long day’s drive Friday to get from Fayetteville to near-Nashville. Folks in Tennessee drive faster and cut in and out of lanes, which is all well and good if there weren’t so many skid marks on the highway and at least two accidents we almost witnessed with drivers sitting in the median with their heads in their hands. Large and prosperous looking ranches and farms stretch across Arkansas and into Tennessee. Fewer strip malls and billboards on our route but not fewer “Come to God” signs or churches or public praying or quotes from John and Revelations. There really is a Bible Belt. Our drive was also notable because it delivered us back East of the Mississippi.

We are in our well-appointed and comfortable garage apartment (“loft”) in Franklin, a lovely, historic, and very well to do community outside of Nashville, thanks to the thoughtfulness of our in-law Allyson, and to Airbnb. Our thanks to Allyson, Libby and Charlie also for advice and help in this region.

Sweet Cece's in downtown Franklin.

It got up to 95° in Nashville Saturday, but Music City is our main reason for being here, so Gus endured the heat (while Cece relished it—finally feeling warm enough).

Our Nashville day began with lunch at an upscale Mexican restaurant with a fine mole, and it occurred to us while there to issue this WARNING: There is no longer any food left in the South. We have eaten it all.

Since we were headed to the Grand Ole Opry last evening, we thought that that yang needed a big yin, so off we went to “Old Jews Telling Jokes,” which we had wanted to see when on Broadway, but missed. Well, we have not laughed so much for a long time. A firehose of earthy, ribald jokes and telling barbs about kids, marriage, sex, health, religion, bowels and more, all with the overarching theme of the healing power of humor, any humor. The travelling cast was great.

The only problem with the play was that, unbeknown to us, the comedy theater expected each of us in the audience to purchase two items off the menu, and we had just eaten lunch. Gus was determined to keep calories to a minimum—and so had two martinis. Cece gave her you-only-live-once grin and had Tennessee cheesecake and coffee. Cece has felt compelled to eat local desserts whenever possible: bread pudding, pralines, banana pudding, beignets (should be listed under desserts), and now cheesecake.

We then headed to the scene in Nashville, what is called The District. For several blocks down Broadway toward the Cumberland River and off the side streets, in establishments small and large the bands were playing, most often very loud Rock, and the beer and booze were flowing. We continued to win Most Out of Place and joined the wildly attired, weirdly done-up, and heavily tattooed young folks in a couple of these spots, blending in not at all. These joints were full of people lip-synching songs we’d never heard.

"Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today!"

In a bar off Broadway...

Cute District scene.

Pedaling while drinking.

Then off to the Grand Ole Opry… We really didn’t know what to expect—our familiarity dating back as it does to the days of early TV and Minnie Pearl. Well, the Opry has gotten grand, for sure. It has moved to the outskirts of town to accommodate the crowds and the Opry House rivals the largest concert halls in size. Arriving, parking and entering has the feel of showing up for a Patriots game. The audience is your average Americans, entirely white (we spotted one black couple in the packed house), and the show is sponsored by Cracker Barrel and Dollar General. Some were novice spectators like Gus and Cece, but most were avid country music fans and knew many of the songs. Gus’ view is that if you cut through the cornpone, the music, especially the bluegrass and the instrumentals, was damn good. Hearing Mark Wills sing was itself worth the trip, as was Bobby Osborne doing “Rocky Top Tennessee.” Cece especially enjoyed Connie Smith singing “Amazing Grace,” and appreciated the long tradition (over 4500 consecutive Saturday nights!). We were both glad that the Opry was largely free of songs and comments about the military, guns, politics, American exceptionalism, and other patriotic gore.

New home of the Opry before the people.

Bobby Osborne has the stage.

Like many other southern cities, Nashville seems to be thriving, though in an interesting way and on a more human-scale than some.

And, lest we forget, HAPPY 12^th BIRTHDAY, WEEZIE!

Nature Holds Strong, Waltons Give Some Back

AROUND FAYETTEVILLE, ARKANSAS – As much as we like our friends who are Arkansas graduates, we came to Fayetteville not to see the university but because it is convenient to two other spots. Our in-law Dan said to us years ago that if we ever got the chance we should visit the strikingly beautiful Buffalo River, a National River in the northwest of the state, and the first National River in the US.

And we had read a good bit about the remarkable Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art that Alice Walton created, and largely funded, on the outskirts of Bentonville, just up the road. She’s the daughter of Sam. Walton’s Five and Dime, opened by Sam in 1950, is now part of the Walton Museum on Main Street in Bentonville. It was decades later that Sam began to pursue his Walmart vision, so Walmart, among other things, is a 0 to 60 in three seconds story.

Walton's Five and Dime: It all started here in 1950.

On Wednesday we drove east to the Buffalo River area, and it is every bit as beautiful as Dan said. It didn’t hurt that the rain had stopped and the locust were blooming. Then there was the roadrunner that ran across the road! We hiked the Lost Valley Trail, and partway in met a delightful man, Roy, who had paused to “catalogue” the wildflowers along the trail. Roy, 80, has made himself into a first-rate amateur botanist. He said he is also a self-appointed proponent of the region. It was a great gift to walk the trail with him as he described the plants and the natural history of the area.

Ponca, the heart of the Buffalo River area.
The population number refers to humans. 

Cece enjoys the Buffalo River.

Dogs find a way to illegally enjoy the Buffalo.

On the Lost Valley Trail.

Roy and Gus enjoy talking and walking.

In the nick of time we remembered we were in poison ivy country, and everywhere we looked, there it was. We are both highly susceptible. We think we dodged that bullet. And because dogs are not allowed in the Buffalo National River Park, they were saved as well. But we haven’t dodged the ticks on this trip. We’re watchful now for any signs of Lyme disease. And, so far, no red bug bites.

On this tree, the Virginia Creeper is attempting to hide the Poison Ivy.

Gus is no fan of Walmart the corporation, but we must give the family credit and thanks for the museum. It is, first of all, an architectural gem, designed by Moshe Safdie. And the (costly) collection, which includes paintings from Colonial times to the present, is incredible. It is now an international destination.

Such a beautiful space.

Frank Weston Benson's Summer Day

A Rothko

Marvelous design

Thomas Hart Benton

We ate well in Fayetteville without breaking the bank. Three spots we’d recommend are Hugo’s (full of college students and parents), A Taste of Thai (full of local residents), and Pesto Café (very real Italian). Although Gus continues to try to find some wait-staff who knows what piece of chicken the “second joint” is, he has had no success, even in Tyson country.

What a joy to visit two such marvelous places in two days!

Cultural Zones in America: from Austin to Fayetteville

FAYETTEVILLE, ARKANSAS – We left Dripping Springs, Texas yesterday morning and headed for Fayetteville, Arkansas. We just put “Fayetteville, AK” into our Garmin and let “Suzie,” as we call her, tell us how to get there. It’s a long trip, we knew, about nine hours.

We looped around Austin to the west and were soon on the way to Waco, and then into the heart of Dallas. Dallas is now huge, with glittering skyscrapers that match Houston’s. The highways to the south of Dallas, where we were, are all being rebuilt, and we were soon downtown in the center of construction sites wondering how many of the detours and reroutes were known to Suzie.

Cece is a skillful driver and Gus a fair navigator, and somehow we made it through Dallas to the north of the city where all the ring roads and interstates and other highways have not only been redone but designer decorated—four and five stories of highways passing and swerving over each other painted in a decorous red and green with stars. This is, William Ruckelshaus once quipped of another road project, what God would do if he had money.

About this time we noticed that the radio was carrying ads for Steinway pianos. Steinway ads on the radio! Who ever heard of such a thing! So Rick Perry is right to rattle on about Texas prosperity. Go to the Philly area for infrastructure crisis, but not Texas. And it is clear that what America does when it gets money is to build a strip mall. This strip mall in Texas stretches from Waco to almost the Oklahoma border. One struggles to find a mile or two of open space. Consumerism, materialism, call it what you will, it’s what we have in America instead of living in solidarity with each other.

We mentioned in an earlier post the feeling of change when we moved across the border between Louisiana and Texas, but that was a subtle shift, perhaps largely the work of our imaginations. But the shift between Texas and Oklahoma is as sharp as a knife-edge. In the space of 25 miles one moves from Texas prosperity to a region of beer and tobacco joints, non-branded roadside eateries, used-equipment dealers and junkyards, sub-par housing and trailer parks, and blank billboards The Oklahoma countryside, though, was quite lovely and green and was a relief to see.

Soon we found ourselves in the most risky period of our trip. Just as we entered a region of huge dam-created lakes, the Lake Eufaula complex, with confining bridges, the skies darkened, car lights came on, and a blinding, endless downpour commenced. Some motorists pulled over to wait it out, but the 18-wheelers splashed on. We put on the hazard blinkers and crept forward, as the big trucks came roaring by, dousing us.

Well, we are still here, so that worked out OK. Cece does not let things like that bother her. Gus, however, was glued to the windshield trying to figure out what disaster awaited us in the gloom ahead.

The region of Oklahoma north and west of the lakes is totally different—big, successful looking cattle ranches, with extensive, rolling pastures and gorgeous trees. We read about the drought in Oklahoma, but that must be west of where we were. Eastern Oklahoma was wet and green. And, once again, a bright, bright, sun-shiny day! We decided that we liked Oklahoma. We know some great people from there. How such a place elects the biggest idiot in the Senate is beyond us.

We headed east into Arkansas, relieved that Suzie had not forgotten where to take us. The Oklahoma-Arkansas border near Fort Smith is as inconsequential as most other US state borders.

Hi, Libby!

We turned north near Fort Smith and headed for Fayetteville, home of the Razorbacks. Later we would have a very fine Thai dinner in downtown Fayetteville on Center Street near the town square. But to get there we had to cross a region of mountains, the first mountains of our road trip, honest mountains of which even Vermont would be proud. These mountains, which are called the Boston Mountains, perhaps for some good reason, are the most western part of the Ozarks. Spring has just come to the Ozarks, and the trees still sport all shades of the color green—salad days in the forest. A handful of rivers launch downhill in the Bostons, including the Buffalo, where we are headed.

We made it! We feel we’ve travelled through several not time but cultural zones. America’s defining feature of the future, though, clearly belongs to the strip mall—an endless recycling of the same eateries, lodgings, convenience stores, boutiques, outlets, yard and garden centers, filling stations, and big box stores—what a delight!

You may know already that here in NW Arkansas we are at the heart of the new country. Tyson Chicken is in nearby Springdale and the neighboring town north of Springdale is Bentonville, the home of Walmart.

You will enjoy a young Merle Haggard (1969) singing “Okie from Muskogee” on You Tube. (Last minute edit: The New York Times reports today that the social values praised by Haggard have pretty much crumbled in Muskogee.) We went by Muskogee headed to Fort Smith. He recorded it right after his release from San Quentin and was high on freedom.

And by all means don’t miss Emmy Lou and Willie singing about Texas wildflowers and love. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIXjgSgSoTs Thanks, Martha and Jim.

"Feeling No Pain" in Luckenbach, Texas

DRIPPING SPRINGS, TEXAS – We have to thank our friends and hosts in the Austin area, Russ and Jacqui, not only for their warm and generous hospitality but also for pulling us away from the Austin scene and out to Dripping Springs. They said the Texas Hill Country was not to be slighted, and that was good advice indeed.

So on a beautiful Monday morning we headed out from Dripping Springs, itself a delightful community with a cute historic district, to explore the countryside west of Austin. The Hill Country is famous for its wildflowers, and we lucked out again. They are right now at their best and the profusion along both sides of the road was breathtaking. The region is actually quite hilly with escarpments and rocky outcroppings, and, this time of year, quite green. When the roads dip down to the bottoms, the signs warn repeatedly to beware of flash floods, and there’s always a measuring rod that tells you how many feet of water you will have to drive through if you dare.

Hill Country Wildflowers: awesome but hard to photograph.

Hill Country has a Mediterranean/Californian look.

We started with a hike along the Pedernales River at the falls. Quite a beautiful spot!

Cece and dogs at Pedernales Falls.

Some readers will remember the Pedernales as the beloved river of LBJ. The Texas White House sits on its banks. So our next stop was Johnson City and the Lyndon B. Johnson National Historical Park, well worth a visit for many reasons, one of which is to read the list of his legislative accomplishments in civil rights, anti-poverty, consumer protection, environment, health, and on and on, hundreds of pieces of major legislation, and thus to appreciate the utter poverty of our current politics.

LBJ's boyhood home in Johnson City.

Johnson City is also the home of Ronnie’s Barbeque, and since 1976 Ronnie Weiershausen has been cooking some of the best anywhere. We will let the photos tell the story.

Ronnie admiring some of his product.

The real deal!

And then Gus spotted falling off the bottom of our map the town of Luckenbach, and off we went to the spot immortalized by Willie and Waylon in 1977. Many country greats have performed there, and it is a sight to behold. Again, we will let the photos do the talking.

Old guy fits right in.

Luckenbach Dance Hall awaits another big night.

And Austin? Well, contrary to all expectations, we have very mixed feelings. Austin seems no longer the moderately liberal university town, at least not mainly. Mainly, it is a place of high, gleaming buildings that make the city look like it was built over the past decade. There’s a push-back movement in the city, “Keep Austin Weird,” but clearly that’s another Lost Cause. (But see South Congress Avenue and Scholz’s barbeque for some of the old.) Austin also does not appear to be taking care of its own. The scene at the homeless shelter was as depressing as anything we’ve seen lately, and Monday’s New York Times reported that Travis County had one of the worst records in the country for social and economic advancement of the poor. We were only in Austin a very short time, so apologies if we got this wrong.

A Nice Visit to San Antonio

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS – Late yesterday afternoon, Saturday, we went to the ancient San Fernando Cathedral. A Mass was being said, but we were welcomed to visit nonetheless, and so we went in—in turns, with one of us keeping the dogs at the tables and chairs on the Main Plaza. That Mass turned out to be as moving and beautiful a church service as we can imagine. The Cathedral walls define a striking interior space that was beautifully lit by a bright afternoon sun that made the magnificent stained glass windows come alive. With priests in their white vestments framed by golden objects and decoration, the altar area glowed.

The pews were mostly filled, and though the congregation was quite diverse socially and economically, the largest group were Latinos. The service seemed informal, even though a Mass, and friendly. What drove the service to a new level was the large Mexican-style band and an even larger chorus expertly playing and singing good, modern music with a powerful drum section and a great trumpet. All very uplifting.

Magnificent Cathedral

Vernacular Mass

San Antonio, now America’s seventh largest city, stuffs huge numbers of visitors and tourists into a small area, like Cool Hand Luke in the hard-boiled eggs contest. Many of the tourists are here for conventions, conferences and the like (we met some folks from Children’s Hospital in DC) while still more, mostly Texans and Mexicans, are here for the Alamo.

The proper order of things seems to be to do a little work or serious sightseeing, and then hit the famous Riverwalk. We had an idea we’d be strolling along a quiet, shaded riverbank past small restaurants and shops, what you might find on a side street in a pleasant European city. Man oh man, were we mistaken. The Riverwalk is over-the-top gaudy, colorful but way too crowded and busy as busy can be. One Tex-Mex eatery after another with young girls in front of many dressed for a Mexican festival urging us inward for the best tacos on the walk. The river itself is covered with a large fleet of open-air tourist boats plowing constantly up and down the river with the operators giving the scene spiel. It was, we confess, good cheap fun, a colorful confabulation. And there are good restaurants mixed with the poor. We had a very nice Tex-Mex meal beside the river, feeding corn chips to Weezie and Capers. The dogs love these sidewalk scenes, and people of all types love to stop and pet the dogs, tell us about their dogs and how pretty our (now clean) dogs are. Capers has kissed so many babies he could be elected President.  (BTW, the large trees along the banks of the Riverwalk are full of herons building nests. They and the humans do not seem to notice each other.)

Colorful Riverwalk

We also visited the Villita Historic District, a collection of older homes, shops, and churches that reflect the city’s past.  It was a pleasant break from the crowded city, and a band played Mexican music in the plaza. Another beautiful spot is the historic Menger Hotel where we got a very nice lunch.

In La Villita

The other must-see is, of course, the Alamo. It is very well conserved with helpful exhibits and lovely grounds. For Texas it is a shrine, officially and unofficially. We had a good visit and learned a lot, enough to make us wonder about the psychology of Crocket, Travis, Bowie, and others who opted to stay and fight to the death. And was the Battle of the Alamo strategically important in the Texas war of independence from Mexico? Good questions to research back home in Vermont.

The Alamo and some questions...

As we were headed to bed last evening, Cece had a conversation with a member of the hotel staff about their extensive renovations and therefore inconveniences. It concluded with her saying to Cece, “I wish everyone was as nice as you.” To which Gus replied, “the world would indeed be a much better place.”

OMG, the Birds!

ROCKPORT/ARANSAS, TEXAS – You may recall that we were a bit disappointed at not finding many birds at one of America’s premier birding hot spots, Aransas. Do you remember Eddie Murphy signing “Looking for love in al the wrong places”? Well, substitute “birds” for “love.”

Our break came when we decided to go out on the water between the Aransas mainland and Matagorda Island and cruise around 10-12 small islands, sandbars and shell banks. Our guide was the estimable Capt. Tom Moore. His bread and butter is a well-known whooping crane tour, but he said that even with the cranes gone, there were plenty of great birds still out there, if you know where to look. And, indeed, he did. Tom is a solid naturalist who knows the whole region as well as the birds.

We were out for four hours Thursday morning with Capt. Tom. It was a beautiful, cool morning, and the small group with us were good company. We are very pleased we extended our stay in Rockport to take this outing.

So, to cut to the chase, here are some of the birds we saw, often in large numbers, some for the first time:

Caspian Tern

Royal Tern

Forster’s Tern

Least Tern

Sandwich Tern

Black Skimmer

Oystercatcher

Black-necked Stilt

Lesser Yellowlegs

Marbled Godwit

Ruddy Turnstone

Dunlin

Black-bellied Plover

White-winged Dove

Common Loon

Neo Tropic Cormorant

Magnificent Frigatebird

Large Great Blue Heron and American Egret rookeries

Roseate Spoonbill

Reddish Egret/including white morph

White Ibis

Glossy Ibis

White-tailed Hawk

Crested Caracara

Scarlet Tanager

and one beautiful Painted Bunting!

A portion of one of the rookeries!

 

Great Blue Heron shading fluffy feathered babies.

We’ve omitted birds like pelicans and some egrets that are in profusion in the region. And we saw large numbers of dolphins in pods with babies.

It was a great outing, but we had to move fast after that to gather the dogs from their excellent grooming by Teresa at Groomingdales (necessary for our being able to be on a boat for 4 hours and also because they needed baths desperately) and head inland for San Antonio. Along the way we passed through the largest wind farm we’ve ever seen (in San Patricio), reminding us of another Texas superlative: Number One in wind energy production.

Turning inland marked a milestone in this road trip: we’ve aimed northward and begun the long trek home to Vermont!

 

Harbor near Capt. Tom's dock.

Great Blue Village