This shoe, #430, was taken when my camera was still attached to my dashboard and we were sitting at light. The bottom photo was taken up on the mountain at Wintergreen Ski Resort in Virginia

The drive to Cincinnati from Pensacola went really well. We stopped over at our friend Kevin’s home on Signal Mountain outside Chattanooga, TN and slept in his driveway for the night before heading out early in the a.m. I did have a little worry about our accommodations in Cincinnati for a bit that about made me have a panic attack, but we got that straightened out thankfully.

We were once again shacked up at Trish’s place for the duration of the holiday stay. Trish also allows me to let my mother stay as well so I can see her more and she can have more time around Nora. But the problem is, Nora does not like to spend time around her. Nora is not fond of old people, she just doesn’t trust them. We think it stems back to when she was very little and the old asian women working at the Chinese buffets would always try to pick her up and should would scream for mommy and daddy to help her. She literally would say “Help Me!” It was fairly humorous at the time but it has made it difficult for both grandmothers to connect with her.

And it really did not help that my mom had contracted a staff infection and a nasty bout of cellulitis under her right eye, causing it to acutely swell and discolor. Plus her eyesight has deteriorated quite a bit over the last few years causing her to walk like a zombie with her arms out and fumbling over things. Hell Sharon and I were even a little scared to get too close. My mom, bless her heart, never did give up to Nora’s dismay. She was determined to hold her, but Nora was having none of that as she kept her distance, always aware of where Grandma Marge was lurking.

Oh yeah, did I mention we came at a time when Trish’s heat was not working. Luckily we come prepared with space heaters. Also good thing it was a mild winter so far!

We took a day to go to a Christmas event that Trish’s YMCA, which she is the executive director of, was throwing for the community. There was craft-making, treats, hot cocoa, caroling and a tree lighting. Even a 30 year santa with a terrible fake white beard was there to complete the event.

The gym was where the crafts were being created and while in there I saw the climbing rope. I had not climbed one since in grade school probably and wondered if I could still do it. I mentioned it to Trish and she told me of a guy that was well over 60 doing it just the other day. I figured I could still do it then. She scoffed at me when I told her…it was game on! I looked at the height for a few seconds and then turned to her and excliamed ” I bet I can do it in under a minute!”

She chuckled and then said once the gym clears out I can try it. She did not think I could do it. And once time came to climb, I too was a little bit hesitant. But I am a good climber, always have been, so I figured I would still be the same monkey I used be so I grabbed the rope and told Trish to time me. She said go and off I went. Hand over hand, and pushing myself with my feet. I was actually going faster than I thought I would. I reached the top, and she informed me I did it in under 15 seconds. I felt so vindicated! I began sliding back done and kinda lost control and burned my hands a bit, but it was worth it. I didnt even need to be triple-dog-dared.

When we got back to Trish’s we noticed Nora was starting to show signs of getting a cold. Not good. Traveling with a sick two-year-old is not good at all. But par for the course with us. A road trip isn’t good without some adversity right? :)

When I lived in Cincinnati I played a lot of sand volleyball during my adult years. I had learned of an indoor sand volleyball complex, Grand Sands, just a mile or so from where I grew up and got with a friend of mine who still plays and we decided to meet up and play. Unfortunately he is just as unreliable as he was when he was 16. Luckily though, I knew several other players there and got in some great games. It some getting used to the ceiling and florescent lights compared to a sky and sun, and walls instead of sand dunes. It was great to be able to get some playing in though, when it was so cold and rainy outside.

My brother Doug always invites us over for a wonderful dinner that he skillfully prepares for us. He takes great pride in what he creates and he has always come through. This evening he was to create homemade pasta and a sauce along with many other sides. But it was the homemade pasta that was to be his centerpiece. We had sat down to eat and a well-prepared salad was passed around as the first course. While eating it, I heard many strange noises coming from the kitchen. I also noticed Trish was staring into the china cabinet pretty intensely.

Come to find out she was looking into the mirror in the back of it, watching my brother work frantically in the kitchen. After about 30 minutes or more we started to ask Doug if he needed any help. The kitchen was a disaster area and he had pasta shrapnel all over him, and was “bloody” from the pasta sauce. It looked like a roadside bomb went off next to an italian eatery! The pasta he created looked like 5 pounds of spaghetti molded into the shape of loaf of bread.

He then looked at us and asked “So what do you guys want on your pizza, I give up.”

We still had a fun time there, catching up on what new is going on and also reminiscing about old times. It was mostly about them seeing Nora anyway and she was quite sweet the whole night despite having her nose run constantly.

The infection on my mom’s eye was not going to go away on its own, I am sure the eye would pop out in a few days if she let it go on any further so the following day we took her to the doctor for medication. We were all hoping for a miracle but the infection was pretty bad and never really went down until the day we were to drop her back off.

It is always something with my mom. Last time we came home to Cincinnati it was the incident with the Clairol. One evening my mom attempted to color her own hair in Trish bathroom sink with Clairol and splashed color everywhere. However being partially blind did not notice so she just walked out. Dripping color the whole way down the steps to the living room. Trish walked into what she described as massacre looking crime scene, only somewhat relived it was not blood as she still had to try and clean it up. Which I guess hair color stains pretty bad in a white bathroom. Trish was calling for me to go grab my mom before she sat back on the couch. I went into the bathroom to find Trish on her knees frantically scrubbing the tile and walls. I torn down the steps to just catch my mom from lying her head on a couch pillow. I helped her get a towel all around her hair and eventually washed it out of her hair in the kitchen sink with sprayer. Trish and I still crack up about the follies of that night.

Over the course of a few days we did manage to get to see quite a few friends. The days passed quickly and it was time to depart. We loaded the van and went to our friends the Costello’s before heading out to West Virginia. We left out at 11:00pm and I stopped driving about an hour past Charleston at about 3:30 am. I was tired. But I was on a mission to get Nora to see snow for her first time and knew we were tight on time and rose back up to carry on driving at around 6:30am. Our destination for snow was Wintergreen Ski Resort in Virginia just off the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The drive to get up to the resort was pretty extreme with a 15% grade hill that meandered for around 5 miles up. The van trudged along slowly but it was going strong. Upon getting to the top we were rewarded with several areas with manmade snow where we could go play with Nora for a bit. Keep in mind Nora is a Florida girl through and through and the only experience she had with snow was the white fluffy cotton they used for decorating around the mall. She was cold, and was not fond of the snow. Her only remark was “Its icy.” I made a miniature snowman for her and we took pictures of her in the snow and got back into a heated place so her cold would not worsen. The drive down was white-knuckled. I kept the van in low gear and surprisingly the brakes did not heat up much.

We stopped just a bit after getting down the mountain at a Brew Pub along the Brewridge trail (see this review for more info)

It took us another 6 hours to arrive at Deal Island where we were to spend Christmas. That night, Nora through a five hour crying fit when it came time to go to bed, we still dont know if it was reaction to the cough syrup or what. As the syrup was an expensive natural herbal syrup with little in the way of malicious ingredients. She thrashed about and screamed that she wanted to go home. The best way I can describe it is that she was violently homesick. It broke my heart. Eventually she passed out. She has never acted that way, and did not again the rest of the trip.

The next morning she woke up sweet and told me she was sorry. I told her it was okay. But then she said. “Im sorry I hurt you, are you going to be okay?”

I told her “Daddy is fine, you didn’t hurt me.”

Sadly she answered, “I hurt your heart.”

At first I was puzzled. Then it dawned on me. She heard me say that it was breaking my heart last night, and she took it literal. It was so sweet. I just hugged her and told her that Daddy was strong and that I was just fine.

Another funny thing Nora said that really made my day was when Dave (Sharon’s pops), Nora and I were on our way back from seeing Santa. Every Christmas the local fire department on the island rides Santa, waving and passing out candy, around on a fire truck with lights and sirens blazing through the neighborhoods. So anyway, we were walking in the house and she mentioned the pretty stars. I mentioned to her that the bright one might be a planet. “That one there I think is Uranus.” I told her.

And without hesitation she looks up and then back at me and with a puzzled look says. “That’s my anus?”

Dave and I could not stop laughing. It was one of the funniest things I have ever heard. Out of the mouths of babes my mom always used to say.

Nora was finally getting over her cold and was becoming more like her sweet self just in time to head up to Baltimore to see Aunt Glenda as well as Rachie who was flying in from South Florida for New Years. Not sure how much more whining and asking to have her nose wiped every 5 seconds we could have taken :)

to be continued…

Lost Sole #426, found while participating in the "Santa Monica Road Rally", more like the daily rat race in L.A. And wouldn't you know it, a cop stopped and wanted to know what I was doing. Of all the crime going on in L.A., they take the time to stop and harass someone just taking a photo of a shoe.

It was Sean’s wedding and Skippy, Jason, Mark, Gary, Scooter, Dink, Trish, Kevin, Jeff and I all went out to L.A. for the wedding. The only true member not attending was Kramer. Getting all of us together like this, especially without any families. Except Kevin who brought his new bride out, as she had never met any of us yet and this was a great chance to meet everyone at one time.

Numerous funny stories happened that weekend, Jason getting a little tipsy and throwing up on the bus ride home from the wedding, Jason getting crapped on by a bird the next day, Mark getting so hung over he ended up in his infamous “fetal position”, Scooter doing a bang up job as the reverend while performing the wedding ceremony. We will forever recall the crazy people from L.A. and their outlandish behavior, as it was something I’ll never forget, nor will anyone else that was on that bus with them that day.

While those were all entertaining on their own merit. It was Skippy’s and I’s quest to find the Hell’s Kitchen restaurant and get a photo standing out front of it that causes me to smile every time I think of it.
The first night we got there all of us decided to go hit one of the local Marina Del Ray bars on the beach. But I couldn’t drink much as I had volunteered to go pick up Dink and Skippy from the airport. We went straight back to the hotel as everyone had already gotten back from the bar and it was getting late. We sat around for a bit but everyone was pretty wiped out from traveling. But not Skippy or I. I mean we were in L.A. and had no wives, no kids and no curfew. We were ready to explore. But where do we go at 1:30 a.m.?

Skippy was hungry as he never had dinner, and he wanted pizza. So we thought the best chance to find a pizza place open at this time of night would be on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood.

Armed with a rental car a GPS we set out. Sunset Blvd. was actually quite easy to find. We enjoyed cruising through Bel Air and Beverly Hills. Seeing all the famous roads and landmarks.

It reminded me of when we were 16. We would buy root beers and a bag of Doritos and jump into Skippy’s little Honda Civic to drive around downtown Cincinnati late at night. Skippy had a police scanner at the time and we would listen for any action, fires or crimes, and go check them out.

And driving around town was always a blast. Skippy is quite the comedian and would always have me rolling. It was so much fun to feel so young and free.

I felt that way again with him as he does his impression of a large black woman as a fire dept. dispatchersending a truck to a four alarm fire on the corner of “Baskeweeben and Winesty” (AKA Basketweaving and Glen Este:). It was hilarious, and I really think he needs to record it. It wasn’t racist; it was just really funny and clever. The way he weaved all the little details and nuances into the skit was brilliant.

Once we did get to the main strip of bars we parked and headed out on foot. We strolled by the famous Whiskey a Go-Go, and Viper Room. They were both closed for the night but it was just cool to be where so many headline-making stories took place.

We stumbled upon a small pizza joint that had beer and was still serving! The pizza was by the slice and very large slices at that. Along the walls were autographed messages by numerous celebrities. Demi Moore was the most famous that I could see from our table. That hit the spot.

Now to find a bar that was still open might be a challenge.

The one we chose to check out was a wild little place called the rainbow room. It was a large place but sectioned off into several tiny spaces, which were too crowded for our liking. It was really interesting though, and the people watching was top notch. There were people from all walks of life there, from Yuppies, to Punk Rockers, to Goth, to Hippies.

We did stop for a second to watch a sort of bizarre performace. It was a female led band tucked away in a room the size of a bedroom. Seriosuly, the bar was an old house at one point and I think that room was previously used for a bedroom. About 5 people, 3 of whom were photographers, were able to fit in the room with all the drums and band members. They were really good but since we never made it through the door and it was not prime for hanging out for long.

It was now approaching 3 a.m. and nowhere else was serving beer so we called it a night and began heading home. On the drive we discussed that we wanted to get a picture together by something famous that we both liked. We decided on finding Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen, the restaurant that they filmed the L.A. seasons of the TV reality show at. It would have to wait until tomorrow as the need for sleep was overtaking our adrenaline from earlier.

The next day after breakfast we got online to see where the exact location of the restaurant. To our dismay there were three listed but it was hard to make out which was the actual restaurant. And we did not find where someone had actually been to one to verify its whereabouts. So we just started we the first address we found.

It was a bust, it was just a small warehouse, not sure what role it had played, but it was not what we were looking for. Good thing was, it had been only 10 minutes from the hotel. No big deal. The wedding was that afternoon and we had no more time to explore and would have to resume the search the next day.

The wedding had many stories played out but will wait for another time to be recounted. That next day after walking the boardwalk again and hanging at the beach and bars most of the night it was time for friends to part. I took Mark, and Dink to the airport in the early afternoon. My flight did not go out until 1:30 a.m. and I volunteered Skippy to take me early, as I wanted to resume our search. Not so much as to really find it, but it gave us a purpose to our wondering. It was just fun to hang out together and spend time.

I plugged the next address on the list and we were off. Another bust. While it was on a studio property, it looked just like some storage warehouses again. For sure the next destination would be where it was located.

Hell’s Kitchen never surfaced at that location either; curiously enough it was another set of warehouses. Could the restaurant be just a stage trick? On screen it looked like a major restaurant on a bustling street in L.A. But this was Hollywood, where nothing is actually real.

Skippy also wanted to see Mann’s Chinese Theater and the Walk of Fame. It was so crowded that we never stopped the car to get out. I think we were Hollywood-ed out at that point.

Now I noticed we were running a little late for flight, I wanted to get there with an hour to spare and we were cutting it close. But thanks to some road rally-esque driving down blvd, we made it on time. And I know it was crazy because it was even making Skippy nervous the way traffic was moving. I really wasn’t doing it on my own; I was merely keeping up with the flow and trying not to be run over! What was funny, was that Skippy was acrtually nervous. The guy who, while having his Toyota 4×4 truck loaded with people hanging off everywhere, would go zooming down the streets, in and out of parking lots, on medians, shoulders, all with the theme from Beverly Hills cop blaring on his radio and his volunteer fire department sirens roaring. I can still hear the music…”Shakedown, breakdown, takedown. Everybody wants into the crowded light. Breakdown, takedown, your busted …”

This was taken at Sean's wedding. Skippy is the one front and center with the teal shirt. Their were 2 guys missing from the sot, Kevin and Sean as they were probably off spooning somewhere *LOL*

When I finally got on the ground and saw Nora and Sharon I was so happy. Nora ran to me yelling “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” It just made my heart melt. Time goes by so quickly. Thank goodness for friends and family to make that time a good one.

This is a shot from Spring Break 1988. From top left to right: Scooter, Me, Sean, Mark, Jason, Jeff, Chris, Gary and Skippy at far bottom left.

I must add, Jim did not get the name Skippy until he was 17-18 years old but that is a story for another time.

I guess the earliest memory of us belongs to Skippy. He claims that he remembers in kindergarten me telling our teacher, “Miss Benny, I gotta go potty.” Now how he can possible remember such a trivial event is beyond me. Part of me thinks he is making it up to try and embarrass me. But since he is self-declared, sharp as a tack, he probably really does remember it. But this story is going to be told as I recall it, not him. I am sure after he reads this that some facts would be under dispute by him.

It was summer break and we were both 6 years old. I was playing in a fort I had constructed using scrap wood braced up against the back fence with a sleeping bag draped over the fence with a hole in it so I could spy on the kids in the yard behind us. This day there were a few new kids playing. A boy, and from what I could tell, his sister. I assumed that fact because only siblings would fight like they were.

After a bit the boy noticed me looking through the hole in my sleeping bag and came over to the fence. “Hey” he shouted, “I see you looking at me! What are you doing?” he asked as he stood at the fence. I was caught. I peered out and did the only decent thing I could think of. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jim, who are you?” he responded.

“Randy.” I then asked him if he wanted to come over and check out my fort.

He jumped over the fence and proceeded to crawl into my makeshift shelter. Now being only 6 years old I was not allowed to use hammer and nails so the structure was not very sturdy. I warned him as he came in. “Just be careful and don’t hit the main board.”

No sooner did I get those words out did he brush against the board in the middle and the entire fort came crashing down on his head.
I asked him if he was okay and he was somewhat laughing and replied, “yes, I have a hard head.” Only after several decades as friends did I find out what a profound statement that was. Skippy undisputeabley has the hardest skull I have ever encountered.

I came to find out his family had just moved into the house caddy corner behind mine. And that was in fact his sister Jennifer. And man did they have a volatile relationship.

From that day on we were inseparable. And I could not ask for a better best friend. He has been there through it all. Deaths, Weddings, Births and numerous adventures that provide me with an almost endless supply of subjects for my stories.

We have had our fights but always work them out. The only regret is that we do not nearly get to see each other as much as I would like. I wish our kids knew each other better.

Now I was not the first one in The Gang to be friends with Skippy. Jason actually gets that honor. Jason and him met around age 3 and were partners in crime while being neighbors until both moved away.

It was not until Jason and I became friends through little league baseball that Skippy and him reunited through me. Were we all an easy fit and immediately became like the 3 musketeers. Jason had been friends with Wayne and brought him into the group.

During high school Skippy went to a different school than Jason and I but we all still hung out a lot.

At high school Jason started hanging around Mark, who was best friends with Sean. Mark’s brother Gary was just 2 years younger and was best friends with Scooter, a.k.a. Marvin. The 4 of them all hung out and soon the 2 groups of friends get close. It was now a group of 8.
Mark had been dating a girl but broke up soon after, however they remained good friends. At a high school dance at her school, we met her new boyfriend Mike. Mike had 2 other friends with him, Chris and Jeff. And as usual as the circumstances were, we all just seemed to click. Now we were a group of 11.

The real foundation for the relationships and the beginning point of the Gang was spring break 1988. Sean, Mark, Jason, Skippy and I’s senior summer! We built bonds that week that have lasted our entire lives.

Eventually we took on new members. Almost like a fraternity, we made them go through initiation and even called them pledges. We added in order, Scott, Ryan, Kramer, Trish (did not have to pledge officially but still earned her way in) and Kevin. Bringing us to 15 strong, but we never really stayed at 15, we lost Scott to a parental ban, and Chris to religion. Officially the gang now stands at 13.

We range quite a bit in personalities and we all live scattered about the U.S. Somehow our friendships break all the barriers. Every time we see each other it is like we never missed a beat. We love talk a lot about old times and the fun we had whenever we get the rare chance to all be together.

I am now on a jet headed for Sean’s wedding in L.A. Present will be myself, Skippy, Jason, Mark, Gary, Scooter, Jeff, Ryan, Trish, Kevin, and of course Sean. All we are missing is Kramer and Wayne. Except for Kevin and Sean, all the guys are riding solo this trip and I am sure there is going to be a story or two to be told of what holds to be an epic weekend.

They may use paper plates, but they do use glass for their pints at least!

Koko’s is somewhat of a hole-in-the-wall kinda place. The food is served on paper plates and only recently have they changed over to actual silverware instead of plastic. It is away from the beaten path of downtown and pretty much only locals know of it. The funny thing about this place is if you want to eat dinner there you better make reservations.

Sharon’s aunt Glenda took us there proclaiming she was taking us to the place of the best crab cakes ever and they did not disappoint. First thing you notice is the size of them. They are huge! When you first sink your fork into them you notice how moist and soft they are and just full of large chunks of bright white lump crab meat. I mean these are so heavily packed with crab I don’t know how they stay together. I guess it must be the creamy sauce they saute the crab in. I dont know exactly what made them so heavenly, but I could not get enough of it.

I am here to tell you, those crab cakes are the best I have ever had and almost guarantee you will feel the same way. So if you are a crab cake fan, and are ever in Baltimore you MUST have a crab cake at Koko’s pub!!

This is one of the only pics we took that day and what cracks me up is how much fun it looks like we had if you didnt know the back story about Sharons wet shoes drying to my right by the fire from crossing a river to see a tunnel

We woke up and got the Ark ready for departure and headed out of Charleston to Seneca State Forest. Things were going great for the first hour or so, then we got side tracked and the fun began.

I did not realize we were going to be going by the New RIver Gorge until I saw a sign for it. It had been years since I have driven up this way. I was excited to show Sharon the bridge as it is a monster arch bridge over the gorge where one day each year it is shut down for Bridge Day, a day where base jumping is allowed off the bridge.

Just on the other side of the bridge was a welcome center with a scenic overlook. We decided to stop and get out of the van to stretch for a minute and check out the view, which turned out to be pretty incredible as it was a very clear day and we were able to see the class V whitewater New River flowing at the bottom.

While in the welcome center we got the idea to take the scenic route down into the gorge on route 82. We could eat lunch down in the gorge and get a closer look at the river. It was 11:30 at this point so timing was perfect since I had an important conference call at 1:00. 30 minutes down into the gorge, 30 minutes to eat and then 30 minutes back to the welcome center where I knew had cell service as that can be a tough thing to find in the mountains of West Virginia.

However what I did not plan on was taking the wrong turn out of the Welcome Center. I realized it pretty quick and was going to turn around, but from looking at the map I was certain that road I was on connected with 82. What I did not realize is there are two route 82’s. One is a scenic route the other a normal route. And we apparently got on the other route. Now I admit I am still not sure if that is correct, but that is the only explanation for why there were route 82 signs on this road and even my GPS confirmed we were on route 82. But we were for sure not on whatever road was to be the scenic route to the gorge.

We winded around and down a narrow road descending deeper and deeper to the river but none of the landmarks were matching up to the guide we had grabbed at the center. We knew we had gone the wrong way for sure when we were at the bottom and the road headed south instead of north like it should according to the map. It was time to turn around and cut our losses.

Had we been in a normal vehicle and not an older, over-sized camper van it would not have been a problem, but I worried about the strain the steep long climb back out would be on the engine. Already coming down I could smell the heating of the brake pads as they labored to slow the heavy van from speeding out of control. I was pretty stressed.

Surprisingly the Ark grinded its way to the top without a problem. The problem was that we did not realize the road we came down was one-way at some points so we had to take another route out, and those roads were too small to be found on our atlas. And our GPS we use is my Droid X phone which requires cell service to update the maps, and there were zero bars. I was now at the point of having to rely on the compass and my view of the top to know which way to head.

I was now getting stressed to a breaking point. There is nothing I hate more than being lost and burning gas for no reason. After a couple of turnarounds from wandering down the wrong way because the road we were traveling suddenly turned a 180 degrees in the wrong direction, we finally made our way to the top and got cell service so my GPS could show me a way out. We emerged around 11:45 from the maze of small mountain roads to the main highway about 15 miles from the welcome center, but at least in the direction of our final destination of Seneca State Forest.

But now I had a dilemna. Do I take off and head to Seneca State Forest? Or do I back track 20 minutes to the Welcome Center and eat lunch and hang out for an hour where I know for sure I can do my conference call? To add to it, Nora had fallen asleep so that meant she would be awake for the 2 hour drive to the forest if we went back, and that can make for a rough drive.

I decided to chance heading onward. I knew there was a town that would probably have cell phone service on our way that we would reach at just around 1:00. It would be close, but I was confident we could do it. This turned out to be one of the only correct decisions I would make that day :) And while I did make it to cell coverage in time and called in, the client was not there. I waited for 15 minutes on the line with another colleague and upon mutual agreement we cut the call off. I figured I would call her when I reached the next town of Marlinton in an hour or so, and off we went.

Arriving just before running out of gas at Marlinton, I was greeted with no cell phone service yet again. I did not expect that as Marlinton is at the base of Snowshoe Mountain Resort, a popular recreation hub for skiing and mountain biking. It was late in the afternoon on the friday before the 4th of July weekend so I hoped my client had already called it a day and it would not be an issue. Because I knew if there was no service here, there was no way we had service at the forest which was still 30 minutes deeper into the wilderness, putting our arrival at our destination around 4:00. 2 hours later than I had anticipated.

I was correct. We turned into the forest campground and there was no service, just like there had not been for the last 2 hours. The campground is located in a deep wooded hollow that was already looking dark 4 hours before sunset from the thick canopy of trees and steep mountain sides that were so close it felt almost suffocating. Coming into the campground we knew it was first come first serve, and there were only 10 spots in the campground so it was a possibility there would not be any available this late in the day.

Fortunately 2 spots were still open. It was then we realized the campground had no electricity, and no running water at the campsites. Not horrible as the Ark does have a generator, just a little inconvenient to burn gas to run it. The brochure did say the office which was just a mile back down the road had a bath house with running water and hot showers, again just a little inconvenient.

There were 2 reasons why we chose this campground to stay at. Its location on the way to Maryland and its proximity to the Greenbriar River Bike Trail. The trail is an 80 mile gravel path along the scenic Greenbriar River. It was once a railroad that has been removed but still has tunnels and bridges along the way, and one of those tunnels was 2.5 miles down from the forest. And from what we read in the brochures the trail was easily accessible from the campgrounds.

We set up camp fairly quick. Jack and Jinny needed to get some exercise so we leashed them up and threw Nora on my back with the Ergo. The problem with looking at trail maps in West Virginia is that it does not show the steepness of a trail just mileage and length. This trail was to be only 1.5 miles. As we hiked up the side of a cliff for a 1/2 mile I began wondering if this was a bad idea. When beyond comprehension, it kept going up, I KNEW it was a bad idea. Jinny was starting to walk very slow due to her bad knees. And Nora, after being trapped in the van for 6 hours was antsy to get out of the carrier and began to whine.

Foregoing the rest of the trail we concluded we should once again cut losses and head back the way we came, because there was no end in site to the ascent had we kept going. Jinny now was hurting and not wanting to walk. I scooped her up and carried her. Now I had 50 extra pounds on my legs, which were still tired from the hills at Kanawha State Forest the day before. So here I was. Crying baby on my back, content dog in my arms, irritated wife behind me, and a steep rocky descent awaiting me to fall disasterously down. Somehow I managed to negotiate it all without incident. I was now worn out, but could just relax for the rest of the evening with nothing to do except maybe get caught up on my blogging. Or so I thought, and as I so often did that day, I was thought wrong.

After just getting back to the campsite Sharon mentioned something about wanting to leave early the next day to get to Maryland sooner. I had not planned on leaving until 1:00 the next day so that we could have the morning to explore the Greenbriar River Bike Trail which was easily accessible from the campground. I really wanted to check out the tunnel which was only a short ride from the park.

Sharon suggested we should just do it that afternoon, since without electricity what else was there to do but explore. How can I not agree with that logic other than my body was slightly fatigued. But I have pushed myself before, and this was not that big of a deal. And making the last right decision I would make for a while, I decided it would be easiest if we drove the van to the trail since on the map it looked like it was only a mile or so, but as we just found out, that could be deceiving.

Upon further inspection of the map, getting to the trail actually required us to leave the campground. Also while looking at it I noticed it was not drawn to scale, so the distance to the bike trail was somewhat unknown. But we were driving so no big deal. The road to the trail began paved but shortly turned to loose gravel. We headed up a fairly steep hill but it only lasted a bit before we started heading downhill somewhat. The road progressively got steeped and curvier as we went. The brakes were starting to smell of heat and got me worried. I put the van into low gear and let the engine do the work for the most part. A mile went by, then another, and another, we were going a lot further than i thought and somehow it continued to drop down and down. This was going to be a beast to come back up I thought to myself. but there was no turning back. I was determined to make it to the trail, or what I referred to as my Wally World.

We did eventually come to a pull off for river access parking. I stopped and got out to inspect the trail. It was not much of a trail, but rather a tiny path worn in by small woodland creatures as they braved the treacherous rocky slope in search of water. There was no possible way we could navigate down on foot, let along with bikes and Nora. I was getting angry. I was going to get to my Wally World dammit!

I got back in the van and told Sharon, “There has to be a more easily accessible way to get to the river.”

At last after traveling down another half mile or so we got to the bottom and could see the river. We jumped out to survey the landscape.

We saw a wide, shallow, and clear river, but no trail! Where was the damn trail?! Then I spotted it, it was across the river and no bridge to get over there was in sight. But there had to be a bridge right. After all it said easily accessible right? WRONG! Lies, all of it LIES!

But like I said, I was going to get to my “Wally World” and have some damn fun. And to quote the great orator Clark W. Griswald…”I’m gonna have fun and you’re gonna have fun, we’re all gonna have so much f@#$#%g fun we’ll need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles! You’ll be whistling Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah out of your as$$h*le$!”

Somehow I knew this was one of those debacles where people always say, “We will laugh about this later.” I was in no mood to laugh at that point.

I went and crossed the river to see how hard it would be. It never got above the knees but it was slippery. I made the decision to go for it. I do not think Sharon thought I was serious at first. One look at my face though told her I was serious. I was getting to that trail!

I strapped Nora to my back, grabbed my bike and headed across the river with Sharon closely behind with her bike. As I plodded across, carefully choosing my steps careful, looking for flat level rocks to step on, I kept thinking in my head how crazy this is. And how this is the most unaccessible, accessible trail, I have ever encountered. How could driving straight down a mountain for 7 miles, then crossing a river holding your bike in the air over slippery rocks be considered easily accessible!!

Okay, so we made it across, no falls, all good. Then when we climbed up the steep embankment to the trail I noticed something bad. My front tire was f#%^$&g flat! I lost it, I threw my bike, cursed, basically melted down. I did not want to make any more decisions so I asked Sharon what to do. She suggested I go back and get my bike pump and pump up the tire so we could at least ride to the tunnel just 2.5 miles down the trail.

I pulled myself together and made the long agonizing crossing over and back. I pumped up my tire. Once again we were ready to ride. At least Sharon and I were, Nora was saying “all done, back to the van.” but oh no, “we are going to ride this trail” I told her.

I was not having it, so we just started pedalling. She did stop whining after a bit and sat back and enjoyed the ride. I must admit it is a beautiful trail through a picturesque setting. Almost turning around at one point, as it seemed longer than 2.5 miles to get to the tunnel and we have not been having the best luck. But we caught a glimpse of the prize ahead. We could see the tunnel. We started into the tunnel and realized it was dark, really dark, so dark we could not see the ground in front of us, all we could see was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

Upon exiting the tunnel we were met with a long bridge spanning the river. We figured we would ride to the end and then turn around, take in the view and head back. Well just over halfway across we heard a car motoring out from the forest behind us. It was a small compact car, I think a honda, carrying 5 shady characters in it, loaded down with stuff. I assume camping/fishing/hunting stuff, but hard to decipher as it was jammed in overflowing olive military bags. The back end was sagging to the point the top of the rear wheels were under the fenders. They were driving down a road running parrallel to the river and stopped at the bridge. I got a weird feeling from the situation and I think my mind was playing tricks on me as I swear I heard the banjo song from the movie Deliverance coming from the vehicle.

Sharon must have gotten the same uneasy feeling because as soon as they went out of sight she wanted to immediately turn around and get out of there. They stopped for a brief moment and stared at us, as if it was weird seeing us there, like what they were doing was just normal. Then the little engine of the car revved and they sped off, bouncing and sliding from mud puddle to mud puddle. We heard them for just a few minutes before they either stopped or got too far off in the distance. It did not matter, we were not sticking around to find out.

Once on the other side of the tunnel, Nora started up again, wanting to be “all done.” It broke my heart that I got her into this but there was nothing I could do but just ride and get us off the trail as fast as possible. We had marked where we came in with a stick and it was thankfully still there. I offered to make the trip twice, once taking my bike over, then coming back and getting Nora on my back and push Sharon’s bike for her. I had to do something to make her accept my apology for getting us into the mess.

I was so happy to be finished crossing that river, but we still needed to get back out of that river valley, and I was worried. I knew it was longer and steeper than what we did with the van in the gorge, and it got a little hot with that climb, so I didnt know what to expect this time. It was a lot to ask of the Ark. I told Sharon to settle in as this may take a while, I intended to go slow and not push the Ark at all.

The climb started steeply, not giving any type of warmup. I just creeped along, up and up and up. It seemed so much longer going up than down.I would have to let go of the steering wheel sometimes to work my hands in order to work out the numbness from gripping so tight. My heart raced with the anxiety that I would here a loud bang or clunk and that would be it for the Ark. Just like I heard those months back when that Safari Trek I had just bought crapped out in New Orleans. I just prayed that my decision to come see that damn tunnel would not cost me everything.

After about 3 or 4 miles the Ark was handling the hill like a champ. I started to cautiously relax a bit as I felt I could see the end in sight. As we crested I could could feel the weight lift off my heart. We had made it back to the top. The rest of the drive was short and easy back to the campsite.

The bath house was on the way back and I was dreaming of a hot shower, only to find out it was $1.50 to use the showers and we only had $1.78. One of us would do without. I told Sharon to go ahead and while I hung out in the van I noticed a guy sitting nearby with a laptop open. Perhaps they had wifi in the area. I was in luck. I got to get online to only find out my client had gotten on the call just after I hung up and had been trying all day to reschedule the call as the project had a very tight deadline. I did email her to tell her what happened and hoped we could just talk tomorrow.

The evening got progressively better. We got a fire started and heated up pizza leftovers. We also had a few beers which really hit the spot. Nora got to play and tire herself out. We packed the van for a 4-5 a.m. departure and got to bed early as we were really tired, and wanted to assure getting an early start the next day heading to Maryland.

I slept pretty hard. I woke up to total darkness. And I mean total darkness, there was not a hint of light anywhere. Like being deep in a cave with only a hole at the top where some stars were visible. I looked at my phone and the brightness caught my eyes off guard. And in the brief time I turned it on, so as not to wake Nora, I thought I saw it read 4:45, but in reality it was 2:45. Thinking it was time to get up and drive, I drug myself up into the driver’s seat, and motored out of the park. I was feeling pretty rough and dying for a coffee. I thought surely there would be somewhere to stop and get gas and a coffee. But once I got another look at the time and saw how early it really was I knew that possibility was slim.

The road started out fairly straight and level. Good, I was sick of driving up and down windy roads at that point. Then it all got ugly.

Not only was I having to navigate the small back roads without a GPS, the atlas map for West Virginia was torn right down through where I needed to look. And it was not an easy route as I had to turn unto several different roads to make it to I-64. But it was only 36 miles away so how bad could that be. Well those 36 miles took me almost 2 hours to navigate through the steepest, curviest roads I have maybe ever driven. Not to much the dense fog and the numerous deer hanging out on the side of the road. Their eyes would light up as I rounded a corner making my heart jump as I drive by inches from them. One literally jumped over the corner of the van when I came around one hairpin turn. I also almost hit a cat, several racoons, a possum, a woodchuck, and something black and round waddling off into the woods. It was like I was interrupting a wildlife secret rave party.

The windshield was fogging up and the dust from the gravel road yesterday had caked on and was not coming off with the windshield washers. Just smearing and getting worse. Eventually I had to stop and wash the windshield off by hand. Visibility got better, and when I finally turned on the high beams, visibility got much better. But it did nothing to calm the terrain into flat, straight roads. It was brutal. Seemed everytime I thought we had to be finished another mountain would show up in front of me.

All the while I was driving I knew I was carrying precious cargo. I thought my hands gripped the wheel hard the day before, but that was nothing to compared to this 2 hours of white knuckle driving I endured over those Virginia mountain roads. To be exact, it was Shenandoah Mountain Road that was the worst of it all. Eventually I came out to the town of Staunton, and it was the where I got to hop on a major interstate and cruise out of the mountains.

I was blessed with a gorgeous view of the Shanandoah Valley at sunrise, the sky lit up a light pink and ornage and you could see the rolling hills of shades of light purple and blue disappear into the the distance. It was postcard perfect. But I was not at a place where I wanted to stop and get a photo. Nora and Sharon were still sleeping soundly.

The next 6 hours went by without incindence. It seemed we survived the stormof bad luck and hopefully come out on the other end now, tired but not broken.

I love driving over the Bay Bridge Tunnel and up the Eastern Shore. It feels so much slower paced and laid back. It felt nice to be back. Next destination, Deal Island, Maryland.

One of the few rides Nora could ride on, but she was a big girl and rode all by herself on some of them!

If you do not know, Kings Island is an amusement park in Cincinnati and has been around for 40 years. It has now changed hands several times, but is pretty much remained the same, a roller coaster park! 15 in all! The first one being a side by side dual coaster named the Racer. Its history is that two of the guys who started Kings Island were at a convention in Chicago and they found out that John Allen, roller coaster designer extraordinaire was there. They asked him to design the Racer for their new park, and he declined saying that he was retired, so they kept buying him drinks until he finally caved in. And so it started.

The next big coaster to go in was the legendary Beast. It is a ride that must be ridden by anyone who loves coasters. It is a wooden roller coaster that speeds through the forest area behind the park and is best ridden in the front at night. Nothing else like it. Although over the years they have slowed it down in an attempt to tame its “bite.” Some other coasters have come and gone including the Son of Beast. Another wooden roller coaster that was much higher and faster than the Beast, even including the only wooden roller coaster loop in the world! Unfortunately it has been closed down as it was perhaps a little too fierce and too many people were suffering whiplash and back pain. I remember us riding it in the back seat when it first opened, before they installed more brakes to slow it down a bit and were knocked around pretty good. I think I called out obscenities the entire ride, but with a smile. The latest coasters that have been built the last few years were ones we had not ridden yet and were on the must do list for the day.

But first we hit the kiddie land, know called Planet Snoopy. This the area I was assigned to work at, the 2 years I was employed at Kings Island before being “terminated” :) That was fine as I could no longer handle orange pants, with rainbow suspenders over a poofy white shirt any longer.

Nora surprised us and rode several of the rides all by herself, even the one that whipped her around pretty good. She really enjoyed herself. I just wish they had a little more for kids under 36 inches, as the over 36 inch kids had a lot of cool things for them. Perhaps a nice large playground?

Eventually Nora fell asleep for her nap. We headed straight for the Diamond Back. A new metal coaster with huge first hill and high speeds that twist and turn through a long maze of twisting metal. I got on quickly going through the single rider lane while Sharon stayed with Nora. It was an AWESOME ride! So fast and smooth. But to Sharon’s dismay the single rider line was closed when I finished. SO she did not want to wait the hour to get on and I could not blame her. So we went to Firehawk, the other one on our list.

This time we reluctantly left Nora with my mom who had come to the park with us and got into line together. It was a nervous 30 minutes until we got on as we not sure what Nora would do if she woke up and did not see us around as she barley knows her grandma Marge.

It went off without a hitch and we got to, I guess enjoy, the ride on Firehawk. It was what we called weird. Because it was not your usual roller coaster as you hung from the ride like superman as you “fly” through the ride. Complete with barrel rolls and loops. It was quite a sensation and a little nauseating. But overall pretty fun.

However for pure fun, we love the indoor Flight of Fear coaster which shoots you out into “space”. You twist and turn, up and down, all through an indoor maze of track in darkness. We laughed the entire ride when we got to ride it last time we visited. We wanted to do it again but our time had run out and Nora was awake. Plus we needed to get back to pack for departure to West Virginia late that night.

A view of Cloudland Canyon during sunset

I must first say, I am so excited to be on another road adventure! There was a point I didn’t think we were going to find an RV that we could both afford and want, which meant my wanderlust was not going to ever be satisfied. But along came the “Ark” :)

We left either late wed. night or early thursday morning depending on how you view 1 a.m. And if you travel with young ones you know why we left at such a crazy hour. It was a 6 hour drive to Cloudland Canyon, so we arrived right around 8 a.m. It was on the huge hill leading up the mountain to the park that we really appreciated a small RV because I am not sure the Cruisemaster towing the Jeep would have made it up there.

We chose to stay in the East Rim campground and settled for a great spot right next to the well built playground. Nora has slowly been getting over her anxiety over new people and especially other kids. In fact at one point she was right in the middle of 4 kids playing with them. I guess everything is just phases they go through.

We did squeeze in a hike with the dogs to see the canyon after we set up camp. The canyon was incredible, something I cannot believe I had not visited before. It was just a few miles off highway 59, which we have travelled on several times. It was lush and green with large steep walls with exposed orange rock cliffs and outcroppings. Had it not been covered with vegetation it would have rivaled many of the canyons the deserts of the southwest. The sound of tumbling and falling water filled the air but due to the heavy tree cover it could only be heard and not seen. The only way to see the water below was a strenuous hike down into the canyon through a series of catwalks, stairs and bridges.

Laurel Falls

The course had 18 holes that were all pretty open. But will the rising and falling topography made them tougher than they looked. It was very well maintained and constructed. Cement pads and good markers always make for a nice course to play. The last few holes were tucked in the woods and were quite tight. The main issue I have with the course is one it cannot help, but for me is almost a deal breaker. Poison Ivy! It was everywhere on the edges of the course and made sending a disc into it, pretty much a lost disc. Luckily I did not have that happen as I was overly cautious about it as poison ivy is my arch-enemy. Hence I did not shoot the best score I could have.

Lost Sole #420, (some of my friend's favorite number :) This sole was more abandoned than lost, it was found in a broken down home that was left to rot and fall after being severely damaged by a tornado a few months earlier. It was discovered as I was biking on a highway just outside the park, headed to grab some ketchup. It was to be a short jaunt that became more of a trek, and this served as a good momento.

The next day we woke to a beautiful day, perfect for a hike, and our trail that we chose to conquer that day was the hike down into the canyon to the falls. We strapped Nora to my back with the Ergo and embarked, this was going to be Nora’s first official hike. Going down was incredible, it was so green and alive with birds and animals. The background sound of the water cascading over the rocks grew louder as we descended down the many series of stairs, which were well constructed with a mix of wood structure and metal steps for traction.

The waterfalls looked roughly the same and were about a half mile apart. I guess they have had incidents over the years and if someone does get into trouble down there, extraction would be difficult at best. So they have a new exploration off the walkways policy. Swimming and climbing on rocks was prohibited. Which was fine with us as it was cool down there and not much sun.

Eyeing the climb back to the top was daunting. The steps and bridges we climbed down looked to go on forever above us disappearing into the forest cover and out of sight. It was time for the real fun of the hike to begin.

Overall I felt we ascended up the maze of stairs fairly well. Only occasionally stopping. The feeling of overcoming the hike was great and made us quite hungry. We got back to the van, showered up and broke down camp. Time to head to Cincinnati. But first we had a small detour to make for lunch in Chatanooga :)

Surviving tragedy after tragedy

For many Gulf Coast residents, the Deepwater Horizon spill wasn’t their first environmental disaster. Randy Hamilton lived through the devastation of Hurricane Ivan in 2004.

The oil that began washing up on the shores of Pensacola, Florida, last year was yet another tragedy to endure.
The 41-year-old artist and his wife lost their house after Hurricane Ivan in 2004. The sudden destruction spurred them to take off in a motor home and live on the road for four years. During that time, they started an art project called One Shoe Diaries showing photos of unmatched shoes they found along the way, and the stories behind them.

Things were improving and a baby was on the way. The Hamiltons moved back to Pensacola, and then suffered a heartbreaking setback: the stillborn loss of their son.

A year went by and Hamilton family began to settle back into a regular kind of life. The shoe project was a source of comfort. Baby daughter Nora was born and things started looking up.

But the Gulf oil disaster of 2010 brought yet another tragedy to the beach town. Hamilton can’t forget the “heartbreaking” day when the oil slick finally washed ashore, tarnishing the white sand.

Hamilton’s often whimsical, sometimes serious shoe photography project took a poignant turn when he captured an image of an oil-stained sandal that had washed up on the beach.

As the oil disaster saga continued through the summer, fewer and fewer tourists visited Pensacola. Hamilton’s photography business suffered. He witnessed a lack of productivity and morale among his neighbors and friends. More than anything else, though, Hamilton worried about the environmental effects on his daughter.

“I hated thinking that she may never know the beaches like we knew it. At that point, you didn’t know what would come,” he recalled. “We were worried that she wouldn’t be able to walk on those beaches.”

Some days, Hamilton said the smell of oil was so bad that his family would have to stay indoors to escape it. “It smelled like a mix of diesel fuel and lighter fluid — it made you nauseous.”

But despite it all, Hamilton stayed positive, waiting for the disaster to end.

BP plugged the rig 87 days after the explosion, on July 15, 2010. The smell dissipated slowly over the months following the disaster and close-knit Pensacola started to return to normal.

During a warm spell in late December, Hamilton and his family finally visited the beach. They haven’t gone into the ocean yet, but they’ve been taking little Nora to daily swim classes.

Today, Hamilton seems more optimistic than ever. Spring break recently brought many visitors to the beach, a good sign for the summer ahead.

And though Hamilton and his neighbors have faced a fair share of hardships, the proud father believes looking forward is the key to moving on.

“What keeps me going is what I do have — my wife and my daughter. You can’t think about what you’ve lost.”

Looking back, I think I should have not only dedicated this to the dolphin that washed up on shore that day, but to all the men who lost their lives in the blast on the rig. I rededicate Lost Sole #359 to: Jason Anderson, Aaron Dale Burkeen, Donald Clark, Stephen Curtis, Roy Wyatt Kemp, Karl Kleppinger, Gordon Jones (M-I SWACO), Blair Manuel (M-I SWACO), Dewey Revette, Shane Roshto and Adam Weise. May you all rest in peace.

The big problem is that hidden pockets of submerged oil, commonly known as “tar mats” are still being discovered. However it is misleading for them to be likened to a mat because a mat is normally associated with something thin and flexible. Whereas these “mats” are inches thick, sometimes feet thick, and in no way are flexible. They would be better referred to as underwater parking lots. Because that is precisely what the chunks feel like. I have chunsk from a contractor that worked with BP to do recon to find these hidden tar mats had given me from one just offshore of Perdido Key, FL. That tar mat existence has since been announced to the public and has been addressed.

Chunks from a very large tar mat located just offshore in Perdido Key.

I anticipate this summer will be much of the same. There is a lot of optimism in the air which is much nicer than the despair that was ever present a year ago. The doom and gloom of the looming disaster just off shore was enough to make even a strong soul anxious.

I know that I am now much better off than I was a year ago and I am eternally grateful as I felt the stress could have killed me back then. I also know many others are not in that same place and my heart goes out to them. I can only hope we have a calm hurricane season and everyone can get back on their feet here on the Gulf Coast.

Here is a timeline of the events leading up to the explosion that I find quite shocking…everyone should read these

So what the Brewery is doing is selling souvenir pint glasses and filling them for free. You can also “rent” a pint glass which comes with a free fill of beer with every rental. A popular way to go also is the deal where, if you buy a souvenir mug you get a free sampling of all the beers being currently brewed.

You can sit outside or inside while sampling their brews. Most of the time the co-owner is behind the bar serving the brews, and it enthusiastic and friendly.

The beers we had on tap while we were there were:
Banyan Brown Ale – I loved this brown ale, it was a lighter tasting ale than most browns, which made it smoother and more drinkable for me. Not quite as good as another nearby brewed brown ale, Southern Pecan, but darn close.
DPBP Rating:A

Deluna Extra Pale Ale – A suberbly tasty and smooth drinking ale. Perfect for a hot day!
DPBP Rating:A

Lighthouse Porter – Again lighter than most porters. It did not have as much of a roasted taste which I am not fond of anyway. It does not have the bite to it many porters have, which I think is overdone many times.
DPBP Rating:A

Riptide Amber – As with all the beers I sampled, the characteristic for Pensacola Bay Brewery beers is drinkability. Thius red is also lighter than most, but in this one instance, it left it a little empty on flavor. Still great, but not what I look for.
DPBP Rating:B-

Pensacola ESB – This was the scene stealer for me. I could keep drinking this beer all night. Normally ESBs are over the top bitter with hops. Everyone these days tries to pack in as much hops as they can, regardless of flavor, more like an ego contest. But this one had it just right. SO flavorful and smooth and with just enough after taste to make you take another drink. A great beer.
DPBP Rating:A+

Sawgrass Wheat – This was another good brew, brewed correctly. Wheat beer lovers will like this light wheat ale.
DPBP Rating:B

Overall, I was extremely impressed with everything about the Pensacola Bay Brewery. I have noticed quite a few local restaurants and bars are now serving it proudly. I expect it them to become some of the best selling beers in town.

For more information and to see what is currently brewing visit their website at http://www.pbbrew.com