Long Weekend in San Angelo, TX

We’re just back from a trip to Texas to see Carter on his 25th birthday. He is currently training at Longfellow AFB in San Angelo TX before moving to the East Coast some time this fall. We wanted to visit him when we only had to fly three hours to Texas versus five hours to the East Coast. And of course, it was a milestone birthday of sorts for him.

Fiberglass Ewe, Symbol of San Angelo

I have not been to San Angelo in west central Texas before. The closest towns I have visited are Austin to the southeast and Amarillo to the far northwest. San Angelo was once known as the Wool Capital of the World and hosted the Miss Wool Pageant of America from 1952-1972. Accordingly the town has adopted a ewe as its symbol and there are dozens and dozens of decorated fiberglass ewes all over town.

For me, this trip was a homecoming of sorts. I lived in College Station in east Texas when I attended grad school at Texas A&M in the 1980s. Once I started working in the computer industry after school, I flew somewhat frequently to gigs in Austin, NASA/JSC in Clear Lake, and less often, Dallas. But the last time I was in Texas would have been before I opened the restaurant, sometime in the mid-90s. In the late 90s I traveled a lot for work but mainly to Ontario, Canada.

Waiting for our Flight at RDM

Thursday

Our shuttle picked us up at home right on time on Thursday morning and our trip to the airport in Redmond was totally uneventful. This is wonderful because US97 always has the potential to be a nightmare. Once at the airport, it took the customary two minutes to transit the TSA security line. You have to love small airports for this reason and now that we have a direct flight to Dallas, at least for the summer, you have to love it even more.

Ann had scoped out San Angelo on the web before we went and insisted that I bring my camera to photograph the waterlilies that are on display in a public park. My plan was to leave the camera at home; I'm glad she insisted.

This is the first time that I have traveled with my cameras in a waterproof Pelican carryon box, a trial run for the TSA gauntlet heading to Europe this fall. Security was a bit surprisingly a non-issue. However a gate agent at RDM asked, “What’s in the box?” After I replied, “cameras,” she said, “You know what it looks like.” Actually I did not. In reflecting on her question, I wonder if she thought I had somehow got a handgun case past TSA.

After our boarding call, we made the usual schlep out the back of the terminal and onto the tarmac where we climbed the stairs to the awaiting A320. This plane was definitely one of the older A320s and once I got inside, I could see that it was very long in the tooth, having been through a lot of flights. We would come back on this same plane from Texas with a couple of the same cabin crew members.

Traveling in the summer often sucks because it means airplanes full of ill-mannered children. We had screaming infants both fore and aft that made for an unpleasant ride. And Ann had the misfortune to be seated next to an 8-year old walking snot factory. Aside from the mass of kids aboard, the flight was basically uneventful, if you discount the usual bumps leaving Redmond and crossing the Rockies.

I have never experienced beverage service suspended because of potential turbulence before. Some entitled passengers groused audibly when the captain suspended beverage service while crossing Rockies. It is hard to believe that some entitled folks prioritize an inconsequential drink over the safety of the flight attendants. Fortunately, we only experienced a few moderate bumps. 

I had forgotten what a circus DFW can be. It is Texas-sized, crowded, and takes a long time to get between terminals or to the Car Rental Center. After sitting outside the terminal and waiting for several minutes for a bus to the Car Rental Center, it finally arrived, seemingly not in any hurry. And it was a substantial drive to the Car Rental Center, during which I made a mental note that we needed to arrive really early for our return flight so that we would have enough time to deal with returning the rental car.

Our short wait at the rental counter was in no way indicative of the rest of our experience at the center. After we left the Avis counter, we were directed through the doors at the back of the building and instructed to walk to the red-canopied tent where we would be directed to our car. We are used to walking away from the desk, being directed to a row of waiting cars, selecting a car, and leaving the airport. We are not used to joining a queue of more than 20 groups of people waiting for cars ahead of us, with no attendants in sight.

In the course of our half-hour wait in line, we determined that they only had two attendants and they were both scouring the lot for cars. Then we overheard the attendants offering a choice of either an electric vehicle or a pickup truck: they were basically out of cars. Several people in line ahead of us were miffed in that they wanted neither option. Me, I drive a pickup every day of my life and I would rather have a truck than the econobox that we reserved any day of the year. 

We finally got to the head of the queue and I told the attendant that a pickup would be more than suitable. At the same time, I asked her how on earth in west Texas could I recharge an electric vehicle. Was I supposed to plug it into a mesquite tree? She showed us to a truck. Our "compact car" turned out to be a bright red Dodge Ram 1500 Hemi with Oklahoma tags and a 5.7-liter V-8, last of its breed.

Dodge is discontinuing the big and somewhat unreliable V-8 in favor of a more efficient turbocharged inline six. Without a doubt, it was fun to drive and certainly fit in with all trucks on the freeway. Ann thought the truck was huge, but it is no larger, higher, or longer than my Tacoma. Each time I would touch the accelerator, the big engine would roar going from 0-80 in mere seconds, while my Tacoma will get to 80 in a couple of days. I really had to be careful accelerating; it would leave rubber in first and second gear if I mashed the accelerator as much as I must on my 4-banger.

Our "Compact Car" Had a 5.7-Liter V-8

After wrestling with Avis, it was dinner time in Dallas but we weren’t hungry just yet, our stomachs still on Pacific time. Looking at our non-existent food options on the road to San Angelo through the middle of nowhere late at night, we thought to take our friend Tim’s recommendation for a brewpub where we hoped to grab some dinner. The GPS guided us through the maze of highways that litter the eight-million-person DFW Metroplex to Turning Point Beer in Bedford.

We walked into the cavernous space that houses their brewery and tasting room and grabbed seats at the bar. A large crowd huddled around the numerous tables playing bingo. That’s a first for me; never have I been to a brewery with bingo. They had way, way too many options on draft and a lot more in cans, a wonderful problem to have. Most of their beers tend to be higher gravity and we had a road trip in front of us. The small selection of lower alcohol beers help us choose more quickly.

We got to chatting with our bartender about beer options in San Angelo, which I assumed would be pitiful. He offered that he did not know of any decent beer in San Angelo. I had already pretty much decided that if Turning Point's beers were good, to take some to go with us to have at our B&B. Our bartender went in their cooler and picked a mixed four-pack of favorite IPAs for me and a four-pack of the hazy that Ann really liked. It turns out to have been a smart move; all the beer I had in San Angelo was bad to marginal. Turning Point beers, on the other hand, are excellent.

The food option at the cavernous beer hall was limited to a Cajun food truck just outside the door. Ann wasn't in the mood for Cajun or any of the other options that locals suggested to us, so we decided to hit a grocery store and get some sandwich material, a safe bet almost anywhere. Then I remembered that Tim had said we owed it ourselves to visit Central Market, the specialty food arm of H-E-B stores.

We left Bedford heading in the direction of west Forth Worth to make a stop at Central Market where we were astounded at the selection of specialty foods. We have nothing comparable back home and I can see easily why Tim and Susan miss it.

Breads at Central Market, Fort Worth

After purchasing some bread, cheese, and salume, we quickly left Fort Worth headed west, flying through the pitch black night expecting to see armadillos in the road just like I had decades before when I lived in east Texas. We saw only one armadillo and that was on the return trip. I guess that they are less prevalent than in East Texas.

We picked up a local cop near Coleman who tailed us for several minutes. I guess he was hoping that the driver of the bright red Hemi would make his day. With 75 mph speed limits on almost all roads out there, who needs to speed? Having seen no sights in the black of the night, we arrived at our B&B just before one in the morning and quickly turned in.

Friday

My first thought of the day after waking up at nearly 9am local time and then brushing my teeth was that their tap water in San Angelo tastes beyond bad. This is a stark reminder how good our water is in Bend after filtering through all our volcanic rock. I made a mental note to buy some bottled water.

After waking up, we found the Tour de France on Ann's iPad and watched the end of Stage 19 in which eventual champion Tadej Pogačar would show why he is currently the best cyclist in the world as he blasted past all challengers on the final mountain climb of the stage.

At the end of the race, we got dressed and headed out of the air conditioning of our house to find some coffee and see San Angelo in the daylight. Immediately on exiting the front door, we were assailed by a wall of hot, sticky air. Not being used to humidity in the high desert of Central Oregon, we felt assaulted by it in Texas.

Driving through San Angelo quickly reminded me of College Station. I remember vividly the same feeling that I had during grad school, a feeling that I like to call "flatland claustrophobia." For most of my life, I have lived in hilly, if not mountainous, country where the horizons are delineated by mountains and you can see for long stretches. In flatland such as San Angelo and College Station, you cannot see beyond the mesquite scrub that lines the roads. To me, that feels claustrophobic. 

As we drove through streets dotted with pecans, mesquites, and live oaks, I flashed back to College Station. There the Texas A&M campus streets were lined with Texas Live Oaks, Quercus fusiformis, and those oaks were full of giant black male and gray female Great-Tailed Grackles that pooped endlessly all over the sidewalks. San Angelo has large measures of these trees and the large, noisy, and dirty birds that inhabit them. Welcome back to Texas!

Coffee and Bagels at Bearded Barista

Ann chose the Bearded Barista coffeehouse for our coffee and breakfast. We entered through the front door to find the lobby packed with a line of customers waiting their turn at the order window. The vast majority of customers were enlisted Air Force members dressed in OCPs. We did not know it yet, but the majority of these airmen were there to attend an informal separation ceremony for the young lady in civvies in line just in front of us.

We not only chatted with her, but we had no choice in being accosted by a regular in line just behind us. When she found out that we were not locals, just in town visiting Carter, she advised us to avoid the local Chinese restaurants because they "serve cats." Where does this bullshit come from and why does it persist? I remember in Auburn that one of dad's caretakers would not eat the bao that we brought to the house for fear that they would contain cat meat. Really?

While more local knowledge was being imparted on us whether we wanted it or not, the door opened again and a very short woman in OCPs walked in. I saw the airmen in line clench a bit and when she got close enough to me, I could see a Major patch on her chest. Later I would hear her give a short speech at the ceremony, explaining her presence with a bunch of enlisted airmen.

After coffee and bagels, which were really not good examples of either, we headed back to the B&B which is situated right downtown on the Concho River. We were not to meet Carter until much later in the afternoon as he was committed to the air base until at least 3pm. We decided to walk along the Concho Riverwalk from our location down to the International Waterlily Collection and back. I took some great photos of these stunning lilies, covered in a separate post.

Really Cute Bungalow Converted to B&B

Bungalow Shaded by Pecan Tree

Concho Riverwalk

Waterlily Bloom with Bees

The walk down to the lilies and back was brutal in the sunny spots between the shade. I'm glad of the opportunity to see the lilies, but that Texas sun is no joke, it pushing nearly 100 degrees. Back in the AC of our little bungalow, we took cold showers to cool off and finally ventured out into the shade of the pecan tree to have a cold beer. The neighborhood cicadas were really getting into full voice; that is not something I miss from living back east.

Well-Deserved Cold Beer under the Pecan Tree

One of the reasons for our visit with Carter was to help him purchase a car. Once he got out of class, we met him at his apartment and started making the rounds of dealerships and private individuals with cars for sale. At the end of the day, he decided to purchase one from the first dealership that we visited, but given that it was nearly closing/dinner time on a Friday night, he texted the salesman that we would meet on Saturday morning to finalize the deal.

For dinner, Carter wanted us to take him to a forgettable pizza and beer joint adjacent to Angelo State University. The pizza was OKish for college-adjacent food while the beer selection was downright terrible. After dinner, we had planned to go back to the bungalow, drink a real beer, and catch up. However, as we were arriving at Carter's apartment, he heard a kitten trapped four feet down a PVC drain clean-out. A policeman soon arrived and we all attempted to lure the cat to grab onto a string, to no avail. The cop asked Dispatch to call out Animal Control and the emergency maintenance crew for the building.

We waited around until almost dark for Animal Control to show up. Ann and I, tired after our travels and earlier slog through the sun, decided to head back to the bungalow while Carter, the cop, and Animal Control dealt with the cat. Before we left, I thanked the young policeman for all his efforts in trying to help the cat.

Later on, Carter sent a video of the cat being hauled out of the four-foot-deep drain pipe with a snare. To his credit, the cop was still there in the video. I am sure that wayward kittens are not a high priority for the SAPD especially on a Friday night in a town full of drunk college students and airmen, but I appreciate that he came, was able to call in assistance, and stayed through the end. The kitten spent the night with Carter and has since become grandcat number four for us, aptly named Piper.

Newest Grandcat Piper

Saturday

Saturday morning was something of a repeat of Friday in that we pulled up the Tour de France and watched Tadej decimate the field yet again, his fifth stage win of the twenty run so far. (He would seal the deal by dominating the time trial, the final stage of the tour, the following day while we were in flight.) We had to wait around for a good while for Carter to get up after his late night with the kitten. We finally got together and went to the car dealership where Carter took possession of a beater that will get him around San Angelo and hopefully at his next duty station.

We stopped in to one of San Angelo's better, self-proclaimed "chef-driven" restaurants for lunch. Our service was nonchalant to the point where I only tipped 20% which coming from a person in the restaurant business is a crap tip. We always tip other people in the business well. Our server just did not care. The food was not particularly great either and I have already forgotten what I ordered. It was just that memorable.

Based on that experience, we decided that maybe we shouldn’t risk another restaurant for dinner. We decided to add to our charcuterie left over from Central Market and sit out front of our B&B, eat some cold cuts, drink a couple beers, and continue to catch up. While Carter went back to his apartment, we headed to the closest H-E-B. It is not Central Market, but it is better than most grocery stores anywhere.

As the afternoon wore on, the clouds piled high and black in the sky around us. A few tremendous claps of thunder presaged the coming deluge. Safe inside, Ann and I enjoyed the sounds of a raucous thunderstorm. In the summer on the East Coast, we could count on frequent afternoon thunderstorms, like clockwork. In Central Oregon, it doesn’t rain in the summer and thunderstorms are not common. We miss the sounds of the thunder, the wind, and the rain drumming on the roof. Needless to say, the storm put an end to our plans to sit outside. 

Carter came over and we noshed at dinner. After dinner, it being his birthday, we all had a slice of his favorite cake, carrot cake. It really was good to spend some time with him, our first visit with him since Thanksgiving 2022 in Colorado Springs.

A Good Beer at Last!

Happy 25th Birthday to Carter

Sunday

Ann and I had decided to leave San Angelo not later than noon on Sunday for our 4-hour drive back to Dallas where we had 6pm reservations for dinner. Ann wanted to have breakfast with Carter before we left and picked a diner called Roxie's Diner. Ultimately, we met him there and got a table in the busy restaurant. I summarize the experience thus: hot water masquerading as coffee; super friendly overworked servers; really not great food. 

Roxie's Diner, San Angelo

After breakfast, we stopped to get gas. The prices in Texas, from a West Coast perspective, are unbelievable, a gallon of gas under $3. We got 10 gallons under 28 dollars; it would have been 40 back home. On the way out of San Angelo, out of curiosity, I stopped to photograph a flower that we had seen in several locations around town, a plant that I have never seen before. It turns out to be called Peacock Flower and is the national flower of Barbados. Who knew?

Peacock Flower, Caesalpinia pulcherrima

We left town the way we came and I do have to say that I was not sorry to have San Angelo in my rear view mirror. There are parts of Texas where I might consider living, the hill country, canyon country out west, but not the flatlands. Sorry, not sorry, to any San Angelenos who might be reading this.

The drive back to Dallas afforded us the opportunity to see what we had missed in the dark Thursday night into early Friday morning. Not much. The roads are lined as far as the eye can see with mesquite and prickly pears. What land was not scrub is agricultural: sorghum, hay, soybeans, and some cotton. As we drove northeast, we saw more live oaks interspersed with the mesquite. Certainly this part of Texas is much more green than Central Oregon; clouds building in the sky all day hint at frequent thunderstorms. We also understand that this year has been particularly rainy.

After miles of unimpeded driving, traffic started building on I-20 by Weatherford, still pretty far west of Fort Worth. The traffic only got worse and worse as we entered the most unbelievable maze of roads, bridges, flyovers etc. The road system in this area is like bowl of spaghetti, roads upon roads twisting and turning like noodles in a bowl. Ultimately, 4-1/2 hours after we left San Angelo, we pulled into our hotel just a few minutes from DFW and hit the shower in preparation for dinner.

Cocktailing It at José, Dallas

After a delightful evening at José (see the post here) we headed back towards the airport and turned in, setting the alarms on our phones for 7:30am to start the process of getting home by dropping off the truck at Avis. Before we went to bed, Ann closed the evening by saying, “I’m really excited to have a great cup of coffee on Tuesday.”

Monday

The thermostat in our room was crazy. The room would get really warm before it gave signal to the AC unit to turn on and really cold before it would signal it to shut down. All night long, this constant hot-cold cycle kept me up from 1:30am to 5:00am. Once I finally fell asleep, the room alarm clock went off at 6:11, thanks to some prior inconsiderate a-hole guest who set it, but did not turn it off. Ann and I looked at each other and without a word decided to just get up and go.

We walked outside to be confronted with ugly humidity and cloudy gray skies that spoke of rainstorms. Our takeoff across west Texas might not be so smooth. I've made some pretty horrible takeoffs and landings at DFW. While there was Monday morning traffic on the way to the airport, it really was not bad because of the early hour. We dropped the truck without incident and then had to wait nearly ten minutes for a shuttle to the airport. Clearly, quick service is not a concern.

Because the departures are spread out over five terminals, the lines for security are much shorter than at some other airports. ATL, I'm looking right at you! We had a pleasantly quick trip through security. In fact, it took a quarter of the time to transit the TSA area that it took in getting to the terminal from the rental car center. We were at the at gate before 7:30. I was seated there when the alarm on my phone went off. Our plan was to still be in bed at this hour.

We went in search of coffee and a bite of breakfast. All I can say is that the coffee, breakfast “taco,” and “scone” that we found after walking throughout the terminal were examples of the worst of their kind ever. We would be leaving Texas on a low note and not soon enough. The amenities at DFW suck when compared to PDX or SEA, our usual airports. 

The flight back to RDM was very smooth compared to what I feared it might be given the cloudy sky. Because of a strong headwind, the flight time was more than a half hour longer than our first leg. One of the flight attendants kept asking me to put my seat forward for take-off. It really was not my fault that this plane, the same one we flew out on, is a beater and that the seats sag backwards, especially from someone as large as I am. On landing, she finally wigged out and asked me to move to the unoccupied seat next to me. I didn't give her any grief; her job of dealing with John Q is difficult enough as it is. 

Coming down into RDM, we could see a layer of smoke haze and we could smell it as soon as we exited the plane. Welcome to smoke season, two weeks early this year!

Colorado Springs: Thanksgiving 2022

Carter has been stationed at Ft. Carson on the south side of Colorado Springs for a year or so now. Ann and I have been looking for an excuse to make the two-day drive from Oregon to visit with him and his new wife Emma to see their new townhouse and meet our new grand dog, Grace.

Carter, Ann, and Emma

Now that we have just finished the build-out of our new kitchen in our new house, a project that kept us anchored in Bend for the past six months, it seemed like now might be our best opportunity to visit. The real crapshoot in driving to Colorado this time of the year is winter weather in the Cascades, Intermountain West, and Rockies. Opportunities for car travel through the high passes are severely limited from November to April. In a stroke of luck, the long-range forecast seemed to offer a decent chance of passable, if not entirely snow-free, weather.

Moreover, we have just found out that Carter's brigade is being rotated to Korea in the first half of 2023, exactly when is obscure for operational security. With passable weather in the forecast and Carter's residence in the US coming to an end for the better part of a year, the trip to the Springs was basically now or never. More importantly, the timing meant that we could have a family visit for Thanksgiving rather than cooking the same old meal at home.

Grand Dog Grace

When we pitched the idea, the kids seemed pretty gung-ho and as neither has cooked for Thanksgiving before, seemed to be psyched about having us assist or at least offer moral support. And we were excited to help them pull the meal off while letting them put on their own show in their own house. We wanted to be the proud parents watching the kids grow up and take the reins for Thanksgiving in a reversal of our heretofore traditional roles.

From Bend to Colorado Springs

On Wednesday the 16th, 8 days out from Thanksgiving, I made a pork terrine with pistachios and dried cherries, Carter's request to me for Thanksgiving Dinner. Unfortunately, Ann and I would never get to taste it. I also made sandwiches for us to take on the road, which I subsequently left in our refrigerator in our haste to get out the door. Doh!

While the terrine was in the oven, I started packing the car for the long trip to Colorado Springs. We really didn't know what kind of weather to expect and the forecasts along the way were a mixed bag from sun to snow, single digits to fifties. So we packed for worst-case weather and the possibility of having to wait out a snowstorm in the car.

The next morning, we tried to get an early start on the two-day drive, but events conspired against us. As soon as we pulled the car out of the garage, it was apparent that the freshly changed oil was leaking onto the floor. After getting gas, we stopped into the quick-change garage where they replaced the leaking oil filter. We finally got moving at 8:45 to find that the roads were slicker than hell from overnight flurries and subsequent freezing fog that made it appear if someone had airbrushed everything with silver paint.

The first couple of hours out of Bend east to Burns required super-attentive driving; the foggy desert landscape was punctuated at regular intervals by pairs of ravens. We stopped in Burns to buy supplies to replace the sandwiches that I forgot to bring along. North of Burns, the ravens gave way to small groups of magpies as we followed the Malheur River on our way into onion and potato country in Ontario, home to a big Ore-Ida plant. A great memory is driving north along the river canyon and seeing not only a herd of 20-30 mule deer below us, but a Bald Eagle winging alongside us at eye level.

Idaho is all interstate driving southeast along the Snake River and we made good time through the southern tier of that state, hitting Utah about dark. We chose Ogden as our stop for the night and I booked a room downtown before taking the final shift driving to the hotel.

Serious construction on I-84 in northern Utah has reduced the highway to a single lane with barrels blocking off one of the lanes. These particular barrels were really beat and filthy to the point where they were barely reflective in the dark. At random times, I had to veer sharply around a barrel that had been knocked into the travel lane. And at other points, the construction crews decided to switch travel lanes seemingly without warning. It was truly a white-knuckle game of highway Frogger, driving where the nearly invisible barrels were not, making crazy lane shifts in the dark without warning.

I was totally frazzled after this experience and happy to arrive safely in downtown Ogden. After taking our luggage to our room, we walked a couple blocks to a nearby brewpub and had absolutely forgettable beer and food.

Friday morning would see us on the road at 8:45, an hour later than we wanted, the result of the time change to Mountain Time. I noted when I gassed up in Ogden that it was cold, really cold. A few miles down the road, now in Wyoming and on I-80, I checked the temperature and found it was in the single digits everywhere. Laramie, across the Rockies and where we would leave I-80 and turn south into Colorado, got down to -12 the evening before.

Temperature When I Stopped
to Wash the Windshield Barehanded

In fact, it was so cold that our windshield washer fluid had frozen overnight and that was not a good situation what with all the slush on the roadway from overnight snow. The highway was a bit snowy, but the going was not all that bad. Interstate 80 has a reputation as a real bitch in the winter, but happily for us, we got off easy. At one point, we were forced to pull off the highway so that I could wash the windshield using washer fluid and paper towels from the car. At 8F, my bare hands were loving life while Ann was inside scoring some hot coffee for us! I was happy to wrap my hands around the steaming cup.

By afternoon, the day was sunny and cold, if gusty, and the travel lanes (but not the shoulders) on the highway were clear. We found ourselves on the notorious I-80 traversing southern Wyoming, one of the few passenger cars in a sea of semis. I would estimate that the highway carried 20 semis for every car or passenger truck. My hat is really off to these truck drivers who brave the winter weather conditions to get goods where they need to be. While the highway might be treacherous in the winter, it was gloriously beautiful winding through the mountains.

Interstate 25 from Fort Collins to just north of Denver is a fustercluck of construction and that coupled with Friday afternoon rush hour traffic made the drive along the Front Range a bit tense. We arrived in the Springs after dark.

Weekend in Colorado Springs

In cahoots with Emma who wanted to surprise Carter, we told him that we would be arriving Monday night of Thanksgiving week. In reality, we left Bend on the prior Thursday with plans to arrive on Friday night and surprise him at brunch on Saturday morning. As we were arriving after dark on Friday, Emma begged us to come straight to their house to surprise him. And he was well and truly surprised! Carter drove us downtown for greasy pizza and beer before we went to our B&B, about ten minutes away, for the evening.

Saturday Morning, Walking Down our Street

Saturday morning, we left the B&B for coffee downtown dressed for the weather that we had just been through. The temperature in Colorado Springs, however, was in the low 30s and we found ourselves roasting, way overdressed. We had excellent coffee and a bagel at Switchback Coffee Roasters before heading over to Carter and Emma's on the south side of town. 

Mid-afternoon, they wanted to go to the Oskar Blues pub downtown. I haven't been to Oskar Blues since visiting the original brewery in Lyons decades ago. The kids ate lunch, but Ann and I were not on their same schedule after a mid-morning bagel. After lunch, we headed back to their house where Ann and I would take care of dog Grace while Carter and Emma drove into Denver to attend a show. After they departed for Denver, we played with the dog, snacked a little leftover cheese and salami from the cooler in our car for dinner, and after a final dog walk, returned to the B&B for an early night.

Sunday morning, we reprised our leisurely coffee at Switchback, then returned to our B&B to await the kids, who did not get home from Denver until half past three in the morning. While they slept, we waited and lounged, not how we imagined we might be spending our time in Colorado Springs. Finally, we got together and went downtown for a late lunch of not terribly good ramen at the shop where Emma works. After enduring an awkward stint at Carter and Emma's, Ann and I needed some space and alone time away from the kids. We left to grab a quick dinner by ourselves at Old Colorado City Brewing before going back to the B&B.

Over the weekend, it became clear that neither Carter nor Emma had made any plans for a Thanksgiving meal. No matter how much we mentioned it, we seemed to get nowhere, so we dropped the subject. This was quickly turning out to be anything but the vacation that we had envisaged, a happy reunion and a shared celebratory meal, not to discount the chance to meet Carter and Emma's friends at a Friendsgiving on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Ann and I were feeling very awkward and confused about the situation.

In fact, it reminded me of the final time that I lived in my parents' home during the summer after my first year of college. We, my parents and I, led very different lives, with different priorities, and different ideas of what our roles were. I could not wait and I am sure that they could not wait until I departed for school again in August, never to live under their roof again.

Even though the circumstances were reversed in this case, the parents visiting the kids rather than vice versa and even though we were staying in our own place rather than theirs, the feeling was not dissimilar to my last summer with my parents. Ann and I were feeling ready to be gone, but we talked ourselves into staying for Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving Week in Colorado Springs

Carter had asked to be off the week of Thanksgiving, but his request was too late. He had to settle for the normal Thursday-Sunday 4-day weekend like most of the other soldiers in his unit. This was really fine with us; we expected both of them to be working during the week. We were content enough with seeing them on Saturday and Sunday and then again on Thursday and Friday before our departure on Saturday. During the week, Ann and I had planned to do some hiking (or snowshoeing, depending on the weather) and other activities around Colorado Springs. 

On Monday at noon, in the World Cup, the US would play their first match against Wales. On our visit to Oskar Blues, we learned that they would be showing the game, so we planned to watch it there. Before the noon start, we decided to make an early morning drive over to the stunning Garden of the Gods park near our B&B in west Colorado Springs. We had a wonderful walk before heading downtown. The match ended in a draw, not the expected outcome for the favored Americans. After the game, Ann and I felt like we needed more space from the kids, so we went back to the B&B to watch a movie before turning in early.

Watching the World Cup at Oskar Blues

Tuesday we had no firm plans, so we tried a different coffee house with a nice atmosphere but pretty lame coffee and food, despite positive reviews. During breakfast, we found something unique to visit: Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. After our walk at Florissant, we returned to town to find lunch and a beer, then joined Carter and Emma at their request at another brewpub after Carter got off work. We ended up eating so-so food and drinking a lame beer apiece.

Wednesday we had planned to head west of town again, this time to take the cog railway to the top of Pike's Peak on one of the very first trains of the day, timed to avoid the crush of visitors at the top. The hour and ten minute ride was relaxing and offered a great way to see the scenery. I have only been colder once in my life than I was at the top with low temperatures and a howling gale of wind.

After our return to Colorado Springs, we let the kids talk us into going out to a bar, not something we were all that keen on, on the number one party night of the year for college kids. They're all off for Thanksgiving and packing the bars. That said, we went to a really cool industrial mixed-use restaurant, bar, and entertainment space called C.O.A.T.I. I wish we were in a better frame of mind to enjoy it.

The next day being Thanksgiving and the kids having zero plan, Ann and I had decided that we would just grab a bite at whatever place was open. Just before we were ready to leave the bar for our B&B at about 9:30pm, Carter dropped a bomb on us, asking, "Aren't you cooking for Thanksgiving?"

I was stunned and of a mind to spew venom, but after slamming my beer, I headed for the restroom to calm myself. When I returned, Ann and I huddled and decided that we would try to make the best of the situation. We would try to find a grocery store that was open late on the night before Thanksgiving and piece together a simple Thanksgiving meal. She and I were so angry and upset that we fought all the way to the grocery store, arriving at 9:45pm, just 15 minutes before they closed for the holiday. Needless to say, many things we wanted were out of stock.

After purchasing what we could to put together a Thanksgiving-flavored pasta (using chicken instead of sold-out turkey, green onions instead of sold-out leeks, and dried sage instead of sold-out fresh herbs), we headed back to our B&B. I don't know who voiced it first, but we quickly decided that we were leaving for home first thing on Friday, Friendsgiving or no Friendsgiving.

Thanksgiving Day 2022

Thanksgiving was a somber experience for us. Ann and I were angry, tired, stressed out, and longing for home. The kids did not stop partying until after three in the morning, so they were not even functional enough to return our texts until early afternoon. Ann and I went over mid-afternoon with the plan to make an early dinner and get the hell out.

Dispiritedly, I made a pretty awesome rigatoni with roasted chicken and sage sausage that tasted like Thanksgiving (incidentally, it was the best food we would have during out stay in Colorado Springs), but my heart wasn't in it. As soon as dinner was done, I told the kids we were leaving at first light for home. They protested a little, but not terribly.

Tired, angry, hurt, and not very full of joy as we are usually at Thanksgiving, we returned to the B&B to get to sleep for an early departure. I was so out of sorts that I didn't even remember to take a single picture at Thanksgiving and I regret that.

Return to Bend

At 5:30 the next morning, we found ourselves awake and decided just to get up and go. By 5:45 we were on the road north along the Front Range, headed for home. Even before we left Colorado Springs, I think we both decided to jam the 17-1/2 hours to Bend without stopping for the night.

While we used the predicted bad Thanksgiving weekend collision of two snow-bearing frontal systems in the Pacific Northwest as our excuse to leave Colorado Springs early, it proved to be a beautiful day. We got to see both a delightful sunrise and an award-winning sunset. I found it particularly beautiful to have the sun rising and shining directly on the horseshoe-shaped Mile High Stadium in downtown Denver as we passed on the highway. I've never seen this iteration of the stadium in person; my days of staying in Boulder and calling on customers along the Front Range predate both the stadium and the new DIA airport. I flew in and out of Stapleton many, many times.

The drive back home was a good opportunity to see wildlife. In northern Colorado just shy of the Wyoming border, we saw a fairly decent herd of bighorns, perhaps 40 or 50 in number. Each of us, when we were not driving, spied a Bald Eagle sitting on a fencepost in the mountains, far from obvious sources of water, overlooking the highway. It's really gratifying to see that Bald Eagles have recovered in numbers sufficient that they are repopulating areas away from water. The Golden Eagles, Red Tailed Hawks, and Ferruginous Hawks may feel differently.

I had figured we might see a good many Pronghorns along I-80 in the southern tier of Wyoming, but I only saw one small group of 8-10. A large herd of elk, perhaps 100 in number in three separate groups, made up for that in northern Utah just below the Idaho border. Just over the Idaho border, we saw a Ferruginous Hawk on a fencepost along the highway; this is a huge hawk of the plains that we just never encounter. Finally, after dark, just shy of Bend in the middle of the desert, we almost collided with a Great Horned Owl that was flying across the highway.

Stunning Sunset Near Mountain Home, ID

We had concerns about a weather system moving in after dark, but once we reached Boise, we couldn't see a thing. Fortunately, we only ran into a few snow squalls as we entered Bend. The timing of the storm had it arrive in Bend on Sunday into Monday. Our decision to leave early and make a go of it in one day was a sound one. I would not have wanted to hit the Stinkingwater Mountains in Harney County on US 20 in the middle of a snowstorm as our original itinerary would have had us doing.

Finally after 17-1/2 hours on the road, with me jamming white-knuckled from Boise to Bend along the curvy and hairy US-20, we arrived back at home. As we walked in the back door, we were both surprised to walk into our brand new kitchen. I know that in my mind, I was picturing our old kitchen. In any case, it was good to be home and off the now slick road, awaiting the arrival of the snowstorm on Sunday.

A Surprise Visit

Late last week, Carter called me to start scheming on how to surprise his mother with a visit. Ann returned at the end of the conversation and I had to fake talking to someone else to preserve the surprise. Carter, being really quick witted, was fast on the uptake and got off the line.

Emma and Carter Surprised Ann

It is his summer block leave from the Army and he and his new wife Emma left Ft. Carson in Colorado Springs for a stay with Emma's grandmother in Geyserville (Sonoma). Carter was proposing to drive back from California via Bend and surprise Ann, whom he had already told that a visit this time would be impossible for reason of needing to close on his house back in the Springs.

There's a lot going on for Carter, eh? New wife, new house, and lots of homeowner and husband responsibilities that he's going to have to get up to speed on, really fast.

Long and short, Carter and Emma would drive through the night Monday, to arrive Tuesday morning and stay with us Tuesday night. Now, Ann is the snoop of all snoops and it is damn near impossible to surprise her, so Carter and I kept our radio silence until we exchanged last minute planning texts late on Monday evening. After texting him, I would text someone else so that the conversation chain with Carter would not be the first thing Ann would see if she were to glance at my phone.

We arranged it so that they would arrive in the morning while Ann and I were having coffee and doing our customary NYT Sunday crossword. I left the front door unlocked and texted Carter to come on in and surprise Ann. I figured the chances were slim as he has one of those very loudly tuned cars that all the cool kids drive: I could hear it coming down the street from a block away. Also, our front door sticks and I heard them open it. Ann apparently did not and I quickly engaged her in conversation about a puzzle clue to mask the stealthy creep down the hall.

Yes! We surprised the not easily surprised Ann!

Early Lunch: Chiang Mai-Style That at Wild Rose

Fun and Games with the Polaroid Camera at Spoken Moto

Goofballs at Crux

Crux Goodies for Back Home

Cards Against Humanity: How Low Can We Go?

Apparently Low Enough for Raucous Laughter

Dinner: Sōmen Salad with Shrimp and Edamame

Wednesday morning after our totally unexpected but most enjoyable visit with the kids, they headed back to Colorado and we headed west to the coast to escape the 100+ temperatures.

Virginia Whirlwind

We took a whirlwind one-week trip back to the East Coast, two days of which were spent traveling, leaving just five days to see Ann's mother, go to Ellie's graduation, visit Carter in Morgantown, and to see our friends.

Here are some photos from the trip. There's a lot of beer involved in these photos. Ann's mom is in a nursing home and not doing well, the source of much consternation. It took a lot of beer to get through the days where she did not recognize her own daughter and son-in-law.

One of our Favorite Portland Breweries

We started off by spending the night in a hotel at PDX because of our early morning departure and desire to avoid the heinous rush hour traffic. We stopped by Culmination Brewing, one of our favorite East Portland breweries on the way for a bit of dinner and a couple of beers.

Mad Fox Brewing, Falls Church, VA

After a long and grueling flight and dealing with DC rush hour traffic on the other end, we ended up in a brew pub in Tysons Corner. Not only was it yuppie mating hour at the noisy overcrowded bar, the beer sucked by Portland standards. Ultimately, we found Mad Fox brewing in Falls Church as a place with decent beer, as an escape from the drama of dealing with Ann's mother.

Rosé at Linden Vineyards

After a couple of days of seeing to Ann's mother and her house, we took a drive out west on I-66 to visit with Jim Law at Linden Vineyards. Shari was very kind to bring us a glass of 2018 rosé to enjoy on the deck while we waited for Jim to come in from the vines. He was gracious enough to spend a few minutes chatting, but it was clear that he needed to get back to the vineyard, so we took our leave after soaking in the landscape that we love so much.

It was pretty interesting that while talking with Jim, we met a young guy who works at another local Willamette Valley winery and with whom I had corresponded via email, but had never met in person. It is truly a small world.

I Never Get Tired of This View at Linden

From Linden, we made the short drive north to visit with Jim and Betsy Dolphin at Delaplane Cellars, just months before they would sell the property and retire to Florida. Jim was just starting on blending trials when we arrived. Suffice it to say that he never got to blending trials, especially after Betsy showed up and we started cracking bottles. Jim had previously invited us to go out to dinner with them, but we had to demur because of a very early morning departure for Charlottesville and Ellie's graduation.

Jim Dolphin at Delaplane Cellars

Lemonade from Lemons

2018 was a horrible year in the vineyard with feet of rain playing havoc on the grapes. Many winemakers focused on making rosé as a way to salvage something from a crap year. Jim was showing off his label poking fun at the whole disastrous situation. Betsy also opened a bottle of her special ICOE cuvée. ICOE is fitting for Betsy: In Charge Of Everything. Traffic going back in to McLean was hellish with an accident blocking the Beltway. Miserable.

My Spirit Animal

And sure enough, Saturday morning came very quickly. We left very early in the morning from McLean to make the two and a half hour drive to Charlottesville. Although we left early to beat the traffic and to find a good place to park, when we arrived at the Grounds for graduation, it was teeming and the lines to get in were very long.

Lillie met us and went ahead to save seats for us while we went across the street in search of coffee. Wouldn't you know that there is a Starbucks in the bottom of Newcomb Hall, a vast change from the days when I was there. Though not a fan of Starbucks, I was in need of coffee and Ann in need of a little breakfast.

Waiting for Ellie to March

The morning started out warm, humid, and cloudy, the cloud cover being the only thing that kept the day even moderately comfortable. About 30 minutes before the ceremony the sun popped out and made things truly miserable, especially for the kids in their black gowns. Unlike when Rita Dove kept us entertained with a short and focused speech at Lillie's graduation, Ellie was blessed with one of the worst commencement speeches I have ever heard—long, disjointed, rambling, and largely self-congratulatory. Finally, graduation wrapped up and we all walked a half a mile or more to the theater building where Ellie's diploma ceremony was to be held.

It was a long mile and a half walk for me in the blazing sun to retrieve our car and meet the rest of the gang who Ubered to a local brewpub for lunch.

Parched After Graduation in the Heat

Ann and I stayed with Lillie, Ellie, and her friends after lunch to have a final beer at the bar, before we headed back to Northern Virginia late Saturday. Sunday, we headed out to see Jeff and Kelly White at Glen Manor Vineyards. We spent a beautiful afternoon with them before heading back to McLean.

I Also Never Tire of This View at Glen Manor Vineyards

We got back late and then Monday went to see Ann's mom. We made plans for a late dinner with Ann's cousin Chris. Surprisingly, Mary wanted to go along with us and we were happy to have her with us. She even managed a tiny sip of Ann's beer.

Mary Tasting Ann's Beer

For our last full day, we drove out to Morgantown to see Carter, taking a ten-minute stop at the Farmers Market in Winchester to see Beth, Mark, Jessica and the other vendors. We arrived in Morgantown mid-afternoon and got the grand tour of his grungy frat house. We could tell we were cramping his style, but ultimately he decided to go to the brewpub across the street from our hotel with us. The Iron Horse Tavern has a great local beer selection and pretty decent food as well. I was really happy that the pub featured ales from Stumptown Ales in Davis WV, which I believe is my benchmark brewery for craft beer on the East Coast.

Beer Board, Iron Horse Tavern, MorgantownWV

Back to Northern Virginia with 1200 miles on the odometer completed the final leg of this whirlwind trip to Virginia. The flight from Dulles to PDX was routine. After driving from the airport to the house, it was good to have the trip behind us.