Fear

The last post mentions a scary graffito inside an abandoned house, which was not really scary because it was still broad daylight. However, the next time we decided to stop, the sun was going down. We felt compelled to stop because, after driving about another hour along old Route 66, I suddenly saw a sign that said "Amboy Crater," and that looked cool, and Jed got excited about it too. Turns out Amboy Crater is this little extinct volcano and lava field about a mile or so off the highway--you can read about it here. There was about a quarter-mile long paved road leading to a little parking area, and then you had to walk the rest of the way across this rocky, sandy, scrubby terrain. It was about 7 p.m., and the sun was getting pretty close to the horizon, but we struck out, because Jed was hot on seeing this thing. Here's a picture of it:

And here's the sun going down off to the right:

Can you see where this is going?

Oh yeah, Jed's being "hot" on seeing the crater reminds me of something else I forgot to mention: it was really hot. In fact, where we were all along that part of Route 66 was technically part of the Mojave Desert. This is how hot it was:

(That's the dash of the Mustang, and me reflected in it next to the temperature reading--photo by Jed.)

I can now report that it is very true that dry heat is more bearable than heat with humidity, because these triple-digit temperatures (which topped out at 113 on our trip) did not feel nearly as bad as they sound. But still, it was very hot, and the heat hardly abates at all when the sun goes down.
 
So, when Jed and I set out for the crater, it was still about 108, and we actually counted it in our favor that we weren't in full sun. Jed had a few ounces of Gatorade under his arm, and it was a pleasant enough jaunt across the rocky ground. We saw little lizards and stuff:
 

 
There goes Jed:

So we got to the base of the thing, and scrambled a couple hundred feet up the side of it, and looked down into the crater. Cool. (But not literally, as Jed likes to say). From there I could see my car in the parking area, and the lights of the little (very little--like, a crossroads) town of Amboy a couple miles farther down the road. Then we went down into the crater:
 

See how it's getting dark--I had to use my flash.

 
The crater was open on one side (off to the right of the picture above), and there was a trail leading out that way and back toward the parking area. So we left the crater, and that's when things started going wrong.
 
We were maybe 15-20 minutes out of there when Jed realized he had dropped his bandana--his special, woodland-camo pattern banadana that he is unnaturally attached to; it's a bit of an Asperger's thing. Also, right about this time, it became clear that the last suggestion of daylight had disappeared, and it was officially night--a moonlit night, thankfully; the presence of the near-full moon in a clear sky was one of the things that had persuaded me it was not an unreasonable trip--but night nonetheless, in a strange desert landscape. And I wanted to get back to the car, posthaste. Therefore, I vetoed out of hand Jed's desperate plea to go back into the crater to look for his blasted bandana, assuring him that they are a dime a dozen. I'm confident that this, at least, was the right thing to do, but I'm afraid it kind of broke poor Jeddy psychologically. Suddenly the darkness became intimidating, it wasn't fun anymore, and as we started back through the moonlight, every blamed thing in his peripheral vision started to move for Jed. Actually, it did for me too, at first--sometimes at night, when you're a little freaked out, you look at something a few yards away, like a bush, and as you look away from it, your eye kind of pulls the image a little, and it looks for a second like maybe the thing moved; I'm sure there's a term for that. Well, I think this was an object lesson in the difference between the adult mind and the child mind, because as soon as I realized that was happening, I sort of gave myself a mental slap and snapped out of it--whereas Jed's mind just ran wild with it. He got very panicky, and I had to tell him to walk behind me with his eyes fixed on my heels, and talk to him very nonchalantly and matter-of-factly about practical matters. I wish I could say that calmed him right down, but he stayed pretty rattled.
 
The best thing now would have been for us to get right back to the car without a hitch, but that didn't happen either. See, down on the ground, we couldn't see the car, on account of the darkness and the gently rolling landscape. So it was really awesome when we kept walking, and the car and parking lot kept on not heaving into view, and the scrub and sand and rocks kept on coming instead. It was even better when Jed and not just me started to notice this--sometime after he downed the last few drops of his hot Gatorade. I just kept thinking how this was like something out of a bad movie.
 
So, what we could see were the lights of Amboy, which I think is exactly what got us off course--Amboy was in the distance, off to the right of the car, and although I knew that, I think I was pulled to the right because those lights were the only thing I had to orient by. I knew that eventually, if we walked far enough, we would come to the road; and that's what happened, but God, it seemed like a long time. And then we had to walk along it, find the drive, and follow it to the car. Poor Jed was near to collapse, as you can imagine.
 
Then we got in the car--blessed oasis of civilization, these little pods of habitable space in which we drift through our harsh environments as hardly more than spectators! Yes, three hours in the desert will make you wax rhapsodic about automobiles--the amount of protection they afford is astounding. Anyway, we got in the car and drove down the road to Amboy, whose major (damn near only) feature turns out to be Roy's Motel and Cafe--bit of a Route 66 landmark, evidently, but it had just closed up when we pulled in, around 10 p.m. The woman there told us we had to drive another hour to Needles to find services, so that's what we did. I'm not kidding when I say Needles had a Shell station with a late-night Dairy Queen that was giving away free cones, and almost the same camo-pattern bandana for sale as the one Jed lost (only difference was, it was shades of gray instead of green), and I bought it for him. After that, around 11 p.m., we checked into a completely run-down, seedy motel that cost $43, and it was great. So Needles, what we saw of it, was good to us.
 

We love you, Needles Inn!!

 
It was still 100 degrees by this time, by the way, and because of this, there was no cold water in the room--think of that! We showered, watched King of the Hill, and then went to bed.
 
So anyway, I've paced off the route of this little adventure as near as I can on Google Maps, satellite view (you can see the crater clear as day, and the "Crater Road" leading up to it), and I estimate we walked about 3 miles total, maybe a little more. Not the Bataan Death March, but under the circumstances, a bit harrowing nonetheless.
 
So, as I wryly observed to Jed, we sure did get our kicks on Route 66!

Route 66

So, this was really the genesis of this trip--because of the Pixar movie Cars, which is set in the Southwest along Route 66, Jed became fascinated with this road and all the cool rock formations appearing in the movie, and about a year ago he started bugging us to go visit Route 66. For those of you who don't know, Route 66 cuts roughly diagonally across the country, from Chicago to LA, and it was a major transportation artery in the first half of the 20th century, before the modern interstate highway system superseded it, leaving dozens of virtual (and actual) ghost towns along this road, starved by the overnight disappearance of business after the big roads opened. However, in the past few decades, the "Mother Road" has become something of a cultural icon, and, probably thanks in no small part to what a great logo the sign makes, Route 66 tourism and memorabilia is now big business!

Anyway, I started trying to figure out how to make a plausible vacation out of Route 66, and I decided that flying into LA and driving a rental car to the Grand Canyon would fit the bill--the main interstate in this part of the world that replaced Route 66 is I-40, and there are a number of places along there where you can get off the interstate and drive for a couple of hours along "Historic Route 66," which is now a "scenic byway"--featuring cracks, bumps, a lower speed limit, and podunk gas stations and motels where you can gather up said memorabilia. (What also happened as these plans developed is that they began not to appeal so much to Jed's younger sister Meg; that, plus the anticipated cost of the trip, led us to arrange a divided family vacation this year--Jed and I flew out West, and Bethany and Meg spent an awesome five days in western Mass, kayaking and visiting with our friend Shelley.)

So ANYWAY, Jed and I said a fond farewell to Gil and left LA on Friday. Here's downtown LA from the car:

Some hours later, around Barstow, California, we pulled off on one of these scenic loops (in our rented Mustang convertible, awesome), and we were highly gratified to find, almost first thing, a cluster of abandoned buildings that seemed to include, among other things, a gas station, garage, and a couple of houses. They all had "No Trespassing" and "Keep Out" signs on them, and they had all been thoroughly trashed multiple times over by, no doubt, local youths. Clearly, this is no place at all for an 11-year-old boy like Jed, and that is why I feel just awful about taking him through every one of these buildings as I snapped photos like mad. (In addition to photographing animals, I really like taking pictures of broken and dilapidated stuff that has been there a long time. I'm not sure why.)

Highlights:

I really like this photo--taken through a chink in the wall of the above burnt-out building, and framed by one cell of the chicken wire reinforcing the plaster.

I know it's macabre, but I enjoy this photo too--inside the above house, some kid spray painted on the wall, "Can you hear the children screaming?" Jed was like, "Let's get out of here, this place is creepy." There's no pleasing some people.

Hollywood Babylon

.
Beverly Hills
Century City
Everything's so
Nice and pretty

All the people
They look the same
But don't they know
They're SO DAMN LAME!

— Circle Jerks


I had to download that song so we could listen to it while driving along Sunset Boulevard (which runs from Malibu beach, through Beverly Hills, and into Hollywood).

See the palm trees?

This is Will Rogers Park in Beverly Hills, where there is a pool full of ginormous koi (sp?).

And there that is...

Okay, two things about this photo. First of all, it's Jed outside of Nickelodeon on Sunset, where they film all of Jed's favorite TV shows, such as the pictured iCarly; unfortunately, it is not open to the public. Second of all, early in the trip I was critical of Jed's habit of smiling for the camera so woodenly that he would end up saying, "Hurry up and take the picture" through clenched teeth with the corners of his mouth pulled up and back. I told him to stop doing that, and he took that to mean that he should stop smiling altogether. So now I have a lot of pictures of a very solemn-looking Jed.

The Walk of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard! It's amazing how many people there are on there that you've never heard of. Wayne King, for example.

I would like to say that I realize how inappropriate this picture is, and I feel just awful about it.

This is Jed and Shane, an employee of the Hard Rock Cafe in Hollywood. Shane's job is to walk around the restaurant all day and take requests for rock music videos, which play on the many widescreen TVs in the place. He thought Jed was awesome, because Jed requested The Offspring, and then Motley Crue, and then Korn. Shane is also an actor; he apparently was a stunt double for one of the main characters in the new movie Vampires Suck, which looks like it's probably horrible, but what the hell. Being a kid though, Jed was only mildly impressed. "Why can't I ever meet a big actor?" he asked afterward. Really? Jed can be good in those places though. We ate at the bar, and he says to the bartender--not kidding--"Hey, do you know who Pierce Brosnan is? Because you kind of look like him." The guy, who was very nice, gets this big smile on his face and goes, "Hey kid, are you trying to get something from me or something?" But of course it was Hollywood, so the guy had met Pierce Brosnan a couple times, and said he was very nice. I don't know what that means.

I did appreciate this plaque on the wall of the Hard Rock, despite the irritating prose (in all seriousness, at first I thought "The Socal Smartpunk Overlords" was the name of some ridiculous side band he was in).

They have a zillion t-shirts for sale on Hollywood Boulevard. I thought this one was funny.

That's it for today!

Santa Monica

This is my friend Gil Iwanski (with Jed, along Malibu beach). I met him in the Army in 1991, and since then he has moved to Santa Monica and become a Hindu priest. He was an awesome tour guide during our first couple days in the greater Los Angeles area.

This is the temple in Malibu where Gil worships; in the background are the hills where they apparently filmed the opening sequence of M*A*S*H, according to Gil.

This was a huge beetle on a plant outside Gil's house. He was like about the size of your thumb up to the first joint. (I took a lot of pictures of animals on this trip.)

Adam and Jed: Grand Canyon 2010

Here I am in a Red Roof Inn, not far from John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana, California (just south of L.A.). Tomorrow, Jed and I will hop on a plane and return to the East Coast after six days in Southern California and Arizona, visiting the Grand Canyon. I had hoped I would blog this trip regularly as we went along, but of course here I am on the last night, just getting started. Now I have to go back and do the whole thing from memory, instead of at the end of each day when impressions are fresh, like we did last year. So, I guess I'll break this up into separate posts, as though they were done on separate days. Let's see how it goes...

L-R (Adam)

I've not yet had a second to read my lovely wife's post below, but just for the record, here are the Groff family identifications for the group photo she included (as strictly left-to-right as I can manage):

My brother Ben, and our host; me; Ben's wife Pat, and our hostess (with the mostest!); my mom (Peg); Bethany; my brother Joe; Michelle Guan (my nephew Karl's lovely new bride, and our favorite new niece); my sister-in-law Kathy; my brother Matthew (behind Kathy); my nephew Karl (Ben & Pat's son); my niece Jenny (Joe's daughter--only a year and a half younger than me!); my niece Katie (Karl's sister, i.e. Ben & Pat's daughter, i.e. (for the record) Bethany's only real challenger for the title of most-fun-loving-and-boisterous-Groff-woman); and last but certainly not least my brother John (Kathy's husband)

Missing were just two sisters-in-law and a handful of nieces and nephews--missed you all, and sorry you couldn't make it! (Oh, and everyone is holding a bottle of Ipswich Ale because because Bethany is best friends with the people who make it, and agreed to take pictures of it all across the country--see the Mercury Brewing Facebook page, fan photos.)

More later...

The End, and the Beginning...(Bethany)

So, friends, you have likely gathered by now that we made it to Washington in one piece, and then just got too lame (and schnockered) to keep posting. It's true. We left Gardiner, Montana on Tuesday morning and drove through the rest of Montana and into Idaho. We finally crossed into Washington State late Tuesday afternoon, and limped into the warm, soft lap of Ben and Pat Groff (Adam's brother and sister-in-law) around 11 p.m. It was a strange feeling to have finished the journey - on the one hand, I never need to see the inside of another Econo-lodge or gas-station bathroom as long as I live. On the other hand, it was an amazing adventure, a lovely chunk of time with our remarkable children, and I was sorry to see the end of it.

We woke up Wednesday to good coffee and the very fine company of the Lynnwood Groffs, and then set off up north to visit Adam's friend Seth and his wife Elise and their girls on their farm. There were goats, deep conversation, and a Wii, to Jed's great pleasure. They are an amazing family and I can't wait to see them again. On the way back to Seattle we stopped at Adam's brother Matthew's blueberry farm, which you could see pictures of here if Adam hadn't left his laptop at the airport in Seattle. Whoops! Stay tuned for more of that adventure.

As we left the farm, I got a call from home, which was somewhat miraculous in itself since I have had virtually no service through the whole trip. It was Arleen letting me know that our mare Molly Brown, who as many of you know was an astonishingly lovely animal, had died earlier that day of colic. Thursday night was spent earnestly trying not to cry, and enjoying the hospitality of Adam's friend Eugene, who comforted me with scotch.

Friday was the reason for the whole shin-dig, the celebration of the wedding of my nephew Karl to the lovely and patient Michelle. All five Groff boys represented, as did many of their associated kin and friends. Again, a picture of me on the floor with the girls would be nice here - you'll just have to wait.

Saturday we returned to Matthew's blueberry farm where we picked and ate until our fingers were blue and our tummies ached, but what a treat! The kids got to play with their cousin Alondra, who is a year older than Jed, a rare treat since all the other cousins are so much older (so I get to play with them!).

Sunday was a mad scramble to meet Eugene in Seattle for brunch, get the rental car back, and get to the airport, where aforementioned laptop mishap occurred. Finally, the kids' first flight, an exercise in patience for all involved, and a very, very late night return home.

So, that's it, kind readers. We will post pictures as soon as they are retrieved, and I hope that Adam will add more musings on the Groff family time, but I must now dig myself out from under the pile of work that has been accumulating on my desk and in my email. Be well, and thanks for following us on our great adventure.

Jellystone (Adam)

'Nother post of mainly pictures here, so I can follow my family to bed after a long day trekking through the fantastic and fantastically large Yellowstone National Park.

First off, I really took this one myself--it's not a postcard or anything:

Yeah, Yellowstone is one of those places that makes everyone a good photographer. Quick sample, then I'm done:

Mammoth Hot Springs--pictures can't do this stuff justice

Mammoth Hot Springs again--looks like the set of a horror movie, huh?

The Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone

And there is Old Faithful, which was good enough to erupt about 10 minutes after we got to it (it generally goes off every 80-90 minutes I believe)

And some more of these guys:

(I hear the tree bark in Yellowstone is to die for, by the way.)

Lazing about like they own the place--actually they pretty much do. These are tremendous, majestic creatures, as well as being, according to park literature, the most dangerous animals in the park in terms of threats to visitors--and that's compared to wolves and grizzly bears. Every single year visitors are injured by bison (nomenclature: colloquially known as buffalo, they are technically American bison). Apparently there have been three people injured so far this year. A woman in a park bookstore told me that earlier this year, a herd was crossing a street on either side of a car, and a girl put her window down to take a picture of a cow and her calf, and when the flash went off, the proprietary bull got mad and rammed the car, badly damaging the door. Park literature points out that bison grow to 2,000 pounds and can sprint at 30 mph, "three times faster than you can run." Not guys to mess with. Clearly, however, not everybody gets the message.

     I got some pictures of some deer and some elk cows too, but let's face it--the bison are the coolest kids in town.

     I'm going to let Bethany fill in the details later, because it's late, and tomorrow we have to drive 10-12 hours to Seattle. I'm afraid the tourist portion of our family adventure is nearing its end, and the family-and-friends portion is about to begin--which may cause the blog to suffer a bit (unless you want five days of pictures of us drinking and talking and laughing at jokes you can't hear). The whole reason we chose Seattle as our vacation destination this year is that my nephew Karl and his lovely new wife Michelle are having their official reception on Friday, so it'll be a big Groff family shindig--all four of my brothers, my mom, and assorted other family members. Also, as I lived in Seattle for a couple years (1990-92), I've got a couple old pals to hook up with. We're looking forward to a grand old time--as grand as it's been so far, but in a completely different way.

     The Great American Slideshow isn't over yet though! We still have western Montana to drive through tomorrow, and that's got COOL landscapes--so STAY TUNED!

Oops, guess I wrote some after all.