Jesse Watters is an anchorman on Fox News, and one of the five panelists on the Fox News show, The Five. We recently had an opportunity to listen to him speak at the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California. I’m a bit behind on my blogging, I guess. We’ve been to the Nixon Library a number of times and I keep meaning to write about it, but I just haven’t gotten to it yet. I will, but not in this blog. This blog is focused on Mr. Watters.
I’m a bit conflicted about this post because here on ExNotes we try to steer way away from anything political. It’s not that I’m not political, nor is it that I don’t have opinions. We just realize that if we start taking positions we’ll insult half our audience no matter which side we take. That’s what America has become. It might be left versus right, Republican versus Democrat, CNN versus Fox, Trump versus Biden, or any of the hundreds of other topics that have the nation polarized. Hence our editorial position is we don’t take a position. No politics. Jesse Watters works for Fox News, so there’s a risk half of you might interpret this as a right wing, Republican, Trump-biased, Fox News kind of blog. If you think this is political or if I offend you, hey, mea culpa in advance. It isn’t my intent to do so.
Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I’ll share with you that we have friends in high places at the Nixon Library. That’s a good thing, because the Jess Watters event was sold out weeks ago. It was 50 bucks a pop, and not only did they quickly fill the 700-seat main auditorium (modeled after the White House’s East Room), but the Library had to open a remote room to accommodate another 300 people. We stood in line for an hour waiting to get in. It was worth it. We had great seats.
On the air, Jesse Watters is an articulate, captivating news announcer and panelist. He started his work for Fox doing man in the street questions in a series called “Watters’ World,” in which he’d ask people questions about things in the news. Most of the time, the folks he asked had only cursory knowledge of the topic, or no knowledge at all. It didn’t stop them from attempting to answer, though, and their responses were entertaining. Jay Leno used to do something similar in a series he called “JayWalking.” Watters started his “Watters’ World” series while Bill O’Reilly hosted the Fox News 5:00 p.m. news hour, but O’Reilly lost his job during the Me, Too movement. I didn’t know about O’Reilly’s misygony and I thought he was the smartest guy on TV at the time, but he screwed up and he was gone. O’Reilly was replaced by a guy named Tucker Carlson, whom I couldn’t stand (not because of his politics; for reasons I can’t put my finger on I just didn’t like the guy). Carlson didn’t last long, and when he went, Watters became the main news dude. I like watching Watters do the news.
Watters has written at least two books now, and our tickets to this event included a copy of his latest, Get It Together. I haven’t read it yet. When I do, I’ll post a review here.
The format for the Watters event was unusual, at least it seemed so to me. Instead of having Watters speak for the usual 45 minutes or so, a woman whose name I can’t remember interviewed him. It was interesting conversation and I enjoyed it, even though it was different from the format I expected. My impression was that Watters seemed nervous speaking in front of a large group and that surprised me. He was articulate and I can’t put my finger on anything he said or did that made me feel he was nervous; it’s just my impression. Maybe I’m wrong.
If you haven’t seen the “Watters’ World” interviews, I found a couple on Youtube I’ll share with you here.
I mentioned that I thought the earlier Jay Leno “JayWalking” interviews were better, but you be the judge. Here are a couple of Youtubes for those, too.
Mike Huber’s recent post on ANZAC day in Australia touched on our Memorial Day. Let’s take a minute for a brief review of the three military holidays we celebrate here in the United States (Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Armed Forces Day).
Memorial Day
Memorial Day is a federal holiday honoring men and women who have fallen in battle. It is on the last Monday in May. Memorial Day was originally known as Decoration Day, with origins rooted in several state-specific holidays. The tradition started after the end of the Civil War and has continued ever since.
Veterans Day
Veterans Day is another federal holiday; it is celebrated on November 11. It was originally known as Armistice Day to celebrate the end of World War I which occurred on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Armistice Day was officially redesignated as Veterans Day in 1954. I like to think of Veterans Day as my holiday because it celebrates all veterans of the US military. No doubt many of our ExNotes readers who served feel the same way. Like Memorial Day, Veterans Day is a legal holiday.
Armed Forces Day
Armed Forces Day celebrates our military services and those who are currently serving in uniform. It occurs on the third Saturday in May. It came into being in 1949 when Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson announced its creation to celebrate consolidation of all military branches under the U.S. Department of Defense. Prior to that, there were separate Army, Air Force, Navy, and Marine Corps Days.
I’m grateful for having had the opportunity to serve (as are the vast majority of those who have), and when I meet other people who have worn the uniform of their nations’ military service there’s an instant bond. I felt that way immediately when I met Mike Huber that hot summer day in Baja (I recognized Mike’s jump wings on his BMW at an impromptu gas stop in Catavina), and I felt the same way when I met Sergeant Zuo in Chongqing when we started our 6000-mile ride around China.
Mike was a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne Division when he served. I went through the same jump school as Mike did at Fort Benning, Georgia (I’m Charlie 34 in the photo up top, one of the scared young soldiers a few days away from my first jump at the Benning School for Boys).
Sergeant Zuo is a retired Chinese Army senior NCO. Because I was a lieutenant when I got out of the Army, Sergeant Zuo snapped to attention and saluted me every morning on that great ride around China. At the end of our 38-day ride, Zuo and I enjoyed a swim in the Yellow Sea in Qingdao. When I served in a Hawk missile battery in Korea, my missiles’ primary target line pointed across the Yellow Sea directly at Qingdao. Zuo and I had a good laugh about that.
I’m proud of my service in the U.S. Army and the fact that I joined in an era when most people were doing everything they could to avoid military service. It’s paid huge dividends for me, not the least of which are what I consider to be a realistic outlook on life, the ability to focus on objectives (in both my military and civilian careers), and my willingness to listen to others (“seek to understand before seeking to be understood” is perhaps the best advice I’ve ever heard). My belief is that eliminating the draft at the tail end of the Vietnam era and not replacing it with some sort of universal public service has hurt our society, but that’s just my opinion. If you have a different perspective, I’d love to hear from you.
Good buddy Paul recently sent to me a video about the powder charges used by US Navy battleships. The USS New Jersey was featured in the video, and it reminded of my visit to a sister ship, the USS Alabama. I wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics magazine ten years ago, and I thought you might enjoy seeing it (along with photos that did not appear in the MC article).
The coastal plains along Alabama’s southern edge are flat and the line of sight extends to the horizon. Ride east on Interstate 10 out of Mobile and you can see her distinctive, bristling profile from a great distance. One can only imagine the fear she induced in our enemies as she emerged from the mist on the high seas.
She, of course, is the USS Alabama. She’s docked at Battleship Memorial Park, just east of Mobile on I-10 where Alabama’s coast meets the Gulf of Mexico. To call the USS Alabama impressive would be a massive understatement. This magnificent old warship is a study in superlatives and in contrasts. Taller than a 20-story building, longer than two football fields, and capable of firing projectiles weighing nearly as much as a Z-06 Corvette at targets more than 20 miles away, the USS Alabama projected America’s power on the open oceans and inland during World War II. The “Lucky A” (she lost not a single crewmember to enemy fire while earning nine Battle Stars) sailed just under a quarter of a million miles in combat conditions and saw action in both the Atlantic and the Pacific theatres. When she passed through the Panama Canal, the 680-foot, 44,500-ton Lucky A had just 11 inches of clearance on each side.
After World War II the USS Alabama was retired from active service. In 1962 the Navy announced plans to scrap this magnificent ship due to the high costs of keeping her in mothballs, but the good citizens of Alabama would have none of that. Alabama kids raised nearly $100,000 in nickels, dimes, and quarters, and corporate sponsors coughed up another $1,000,000 to bring the ship from Puget Sound to Mobile.
The USS Alabama is in amazing condition; indeed, it looks as if the ship could go to war today. Being aboard is like being in a movie (Steven Seagal used it for the 1992 movie, Under Siege). It is an amazing experience eliciting a strong combination of pride and patriotism.
The USS Alabama is a floating artillery base. With armor more than a foot thick above the water line it’s amazing she could float at all, but the old girl could top 32 mph and she had a range of 15,000 nautical miles. When she stopped at the pumps, the USS Alabama took on 7,000 tons of fuel (a cool 2 million gallons).
The guns are what impressed me most. The ship bristles with armament. The Alabama’s 16-inchers dominate everything. Approaching the ship highlights the big guns and when you get closer, they are stunning. Try to imagine nine 16-inch guns, three per turret, firing at our enemies (it must have terrifying). The ship boasts twenty 5-inch guns (two in each of the ship’s 10 smaller turrets). There are another 12 mounts with 48 40mm cannon. And just to make sure, the Alabama has another 52 20mm anti-aircraft cannon. If you’ve been keeping track, that’s 129 guns.
The USS Alabama is only part of the treasure included in Battlefield Memorial Park. The park includes the USS Drum (a World War II submarine), numerous armored vehicles, and an impressive aircraft collection spanning 70 years of military aviation (including a B-52 bomber, numerous fighters, the top-secret SR-71 reconnaissance aircraft, and assorted other planes). The USS Alabama could touch 32 mph on the high seas; the SR-71 cruised at 3,000 mph. The USS Alabama weighs a bit more than 720 million pounds; the SR-71 was built from lightweight titanium. As I stated earlier, the Park and its exhibits are a study in superlatives and contrasts.
Battleship Memorial Park is just east of Mobile on Interstate 10. You can’t miss it (the USS Alabama is visible for miles from either direction, even at night). Admission is only $15 and take my word for it, it’s the most bang for the buck you’ll ever get.
The Skinny
What: Battleship Memorial Park, 2703 Battleship Parkway, Mobile, AL 36602. An outstanding collection of land, air, and sea military vehicles, with the USS Alabama being the main attraction.
How to Get There: Interstate 10 from either the east or the west. From anywhere else, just head south until you hit Interstate 10 and point your front wheel toward Mobile.
Best Kept Secret: There have been seven US Navy ships named Alabama reaching back to before the Civil War. Today, a US Navy nuclear submarine sails under that same proud name.
Avoid: Missing Mobile. It’s a beautiful town, and its Gulf Coast location makes for great seafood and great hospitality.
Not being in the United States for Memorial Day and seeing our flag lining every Main Street throughout our country is one of those times I miss being home. Having served as a soldier in the United States Army I have endless respect for those that lost their lives in defense of this great nation. I now am learning how to respect it even more so from a global level.
This year on April 25th my travels afforded me the opportunity to celebrate a Memorial Day for two of our allies, New Zealand and Australia. While on a guided tour through Frazer Island, a remote sand island off the northeastern coast of Australia, our tour was delayed an hour at the ship wreck of the TSS Meheno HMNZ Hospital Ship 1. The Meheno was a critical resource in WW I in retrieving the wounded from Anzac Cove in Gallipoli for both New Zealand and Australia. When I asked why the tour was delayed the guide explained, “Today is Anzac Day,” and went into the meaning of this holiday.
Anzac Day is a combination of Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day for both Australia and New Zealand. Well, once I learned this I left the tour group and made my way into the heart of the ceremony before it began. I knew I was with my people here at this ceremony. I am not quite sure how I knew, but I just knew. It didn’t take me long to be welcomed by the Australian Army Veterans partaking in the ceremony. They eagerly invited me to stand with them front and center to pay respects to their fallen and veterans. As many people know I only own two shirts, an 82nd Airborne Division shirt and a Boston University shirt. This day I was lucky enough to have worn the 82nd shirt and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Australian Army veterans. As the ceremony concluded, one of the veterans pulled me aside, thanked me and handed me an Anzac Day pin. I don’t travel with much, but that pin is now part of my sensitive items list.
I was beyond humbled to be standing there, shoulder to shoulder with our allies as they laid wreaths, gave speeches, and played both the Australian and New Zealand national anthems. On more than one occasion I teared up, and for good reason. These servicemen and women easily could have been backing any of our 6’s as Americans. The ceremony resonated deeply within me in realizing that Memorial Day is much more far reaching than just our shores in the United States.
In the following month, I went further with what I took away from that Anzac Day Ceremony by taking the time to visit the Australian War Memorial in Canberra. This museum was as moving as any of ours would be in the United States. They have etched in the walls the names of each of their fallen from every campaign they participated in. This includes The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier for Australia and an eternal flame.
I will forever remember my Anzac Day experience and although this day is for our American fallen, it is important to know that these ceremonies go on for all our allies across the world. Please remember the reason for this holiday over the weekend and take the time to pay respects to our heroes of this great Country. God bless America, and God bless our Allies.
At the time of this writing I am sitting in my hotel room, which happens to be in an underground cave in the tiny opal mining town of Coober Pedy. Normally this would sound crazy, but 50% of the residents in this town live underground so it’s perfectly normal to be living as someone on the desert planet of Tatoonie would live. It is deep in the Australian Outback hundreds of miles from nothing. How I even ended up in this town is something I am still piecing together, but alas, here I am typing this up as an aboriginal drum beats from the distant hills and echoes into my cave dwelling.
I apologize for being on a brief writing hiatus. My travel schedule has been beyond nonstop (even for me). I have only had two days off since leaving New Zealand in early April. In doing so there were multiple countries I toyed with visiting. Australia was one that kept being recommended, but I didn’t really feel the calling for it. So was hesitant when I booked a one-way ticket to Sydney and was expecting a short stay to just check the box. Well, life had other plans for me as I am currently six weeks into this giant country with no end in sight.
When I say no end in sight, I literally mean no end in sight. Having motorcycled much of the Southwestern United States over the past six years I think I have a pretty solid grasp on distances and expansiveness with large pockets of isolation and nothingness. I knew what large areas were and how to negotiate them, even on two wheels. I couldn’t have been more ignorant of what expansiveness really is.
Expansiveness is driving 100+ miles and not seeing another car and only a random oncoming truck towing three or four trailers that when it passes you throws your tiny rental off the road due to the wind gust. Expansiveness is slowing down to some type of an unknown road hazard in front of you only to realize it’s an emu that decides to attack your car so you must quickly swerve and speed up. Expansiveness is clicking search on both AM and FM radio stations only to have it indefinitely spin without a station to be found for hours. Expansiveness is Australia.
Australia is my home for the time being and I am trying everything possible to do more than just scratch the surface of this foreign and incredibly large part of the world. With every type of climate you can imagine and wildlife that is other worldly, cute, dangerous, and some a combination of the three. This article series will take you through my journey of Australia as I make my way towards Ayers Rock (Uluru) in the great Australian Outback.
Good buddy Bob Orabona, a fellow rider and shooter, sent in this story about his encounter with one of the Doobie Brothers. I think you’ll enjoy it.
By Bob Orabona
My best Doobie Brothers story ever goes like this. It was around December of 1979. Here in Los Angeles we had a motorcycle toy run that was huge. About 10,000 to 13,000 motorcycles would go from Griffith Park to Pasadena. What a roar!!
Well, that year the organizers decided that in addition to the toy run they would put on a “Veterans Christmas Run” that would be a much smaller affair but the same general idea. You show up at a location on your bike with gifts for the Vets who are in the West LA Veterans Hospital and do a run.
My riding bud at that time was Russ Bromley and we made plans to attend. The morning of I showed up at his pad and he and his girl Sue and I rode off to the Harley dealer in Marina Del Rey. That was the starting point.
After a while we got the ride up and about 300 bikes left the dealership headed to the West LA Vets Hospital. When we got there they had a stage set up in the parking lot and a collection point for all the gifts. The run was very well supported by sponsors and Harley Davidson was there with their traveling museum and several other groups with various types of displays. Hugh Heffner sent over about 8 “Bunnies” to help colllect and distribute the gifts. A band was playing and it was a great scene with a really positive vibe.
After the band stopped playing there was an emcee telling us how much stuff was collected, etc., etc., and then he introduced an official from Harley. The Harley guy told the crowd that Harley wanted to do something really special at this run, so they were going to introduce their newest model for the first time anywhere. It was called the “Sturgis” and it was notable for being the first belt drive Harley.
At the appropriate moment, and after sufficent build up, about 10 of the new bikes came riding into the lot and were put on display. The crowd surged forward and oooed and aahhed over them. I didn’t go with them because I don’t like crowds and I was probably very hung over which was my natural state of being on Sunday mornings in those days (that’s a whole other story best left for another time).
I waited for the crowd to disperse and finally went over and was examining the bikes. I latched on to a factory rep who was the only one still hanging with the bikes and started to ask him a bunch of questions. How long does the belt last? How do you change it? What if it breaks on the road?
Well, this guy was right with it and knew just about all the answers to all my questions. I had noticed while looking at the bike he was sitting on that above the tank emblem someone had painted on “The Doobie Bros.” When I ran out of tech questions I just happened to casually ask him “Hey, how come it says “The Doobie Bros” on your tank?”
Thats when the “factory rep” looked at me and said “Uh, I’m Patrick Simmons and I play guitar for them.” Duh!!!!!! I thought he looked kinda familiar.
Wow, talk about exclusivity: It just doesn’t get any better than this. That rocking chair you see in the photo above? It’s from the Sam Maloof shop and the lead time is about 6 years. Order it today, and 72 months from now, you would be able to rock out in it. I’ll tell you more a little further down in this blog, but first, we have to start with the Sam Maloof story.
Dubbed “The Hemingway of Hardwood” by People magazine, Sam Maloof (1916-2009) was an artist in the world of furniture making. Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan sat on rocking chairs crafted by Maloof, and his work is on display in the Smithsonian, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, and the Philadelphia Museum of Art (to name but a few). His home and workshop are now a museum, too, and the best news is that it is a very short motorcycle ride from my home. Although I’ve been in California for close to 50 years, I only recently visited the Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation for Arts and Crafts. It was impressive. Don’t do what I did and wait 50 years to go see it. Go now. It’s a 5 1/2 acre slice of heaven, and if you enjoy viewing true artistry in wood, you’ll love it. I sure did.
Our tour of the Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation included the Maloof home, the gallery, several landscaped acres sprinkled with contemporary outdoor art, and a peek into the shop (which still produces museum quality wood furniture). It’s easy to get to. From the 10 or 210 freeways in southern California, exit either Vineyard (off the 10) or Carnelian (off the 210) and go north (Vineyard becomes Carnelian as you head north). Just follow the road until you can’t go any further and look right. You’ll have arrived.
We toured the original Maloof home and the craftsmanship built into the place is impressive. I was able to grab several photos, and my Nikon and it’s 16-35mm wide angle zoom did what it is supposed to do.
The Maloof estate consists of several building and gardens mentioned above. The Maloof shop continues to build custom furniture in the Sam Maloof style.
We next visited the gallery, which is where I saw the rocking chair that is at the top of this blog. I like to think I appreciate fancy wood, and that chair had my attention. I asked a docent if it was English walnut, but I was way off. It’s a wood called Ziricote, and it comes from Belize. I’d never seen anything like it. As mentioned earlier, Sam Maloof preferred to work in walnut, and I understand that. Highly figured walnut is, well, art before anything is done to it. But that Ziricote. Wow!
As it turns out, when I asked about the wood I was speaking with a very pleasant woman name Joanne, and that rocking chair was hers. Joanne’s husband Mike worked with Sam Maloof and he is continuing the tradition, along with his son. Mike made that chair for Joanne as a birthday gift. That, my friends, is one fine gift.
After seeing the home and the gallery, Sue and I walked through the gardens. The grounds were impressive and the outside art was, too.
The next morning, I found myself thinking about that Ziricote rocking chair. Man, I would love to have one of those. So I called the shop and asked about it. Yep, there’s that 6-year lead time issue I mentioned above, but that wasn’t the obstacle for me. To duplicate the Ziricote rocker, it would take a cool $28,000. I could cheap out and get one in finely figured walnut; that would drop the price to $22,500. It’s tempting, and as you know, I am a sucker for fine walnut. Maybe if you guys clicked on more of those popup ads…
I recently posted a couple of blogs about Death Valley, including a recap of my several visits over the last decade. This blog is a little bit different. it’s about some of the cool stuff near Death Valley. I didn’t have any hard rules about how close “near” means. I’m including the places I’ve visited and thought were worth a mention. If you think there should be more, leave a comment and tell us about it. We love hearing from you and we love when you click on the popup ads, so don’t forget to do so (and when you see that donate button at the bottom of this blog…well, you know what to do).
I shot most of the photos in this blog with my Nikon D810 and the 24-120 Nikon lens. A few were with the Nikon N70 film camera I recently wrote about, and where that is the case, I’ll say so in the photo caption.
Baker
When visiting Death Valley from the south (as in southern Calilfornia), it’s likely you’ll pick up Highway 127 in Baker, just off Interstate 15. There used to be a hotel in Baker, but it’s gone. There are a couple of gas stations a couple of tacky fast food franchises, but don’t waste your time eating in a fast food franchise. What you want is the Mad Greek.
I didn’t eat at the Mad Greek on this trip (either coming to or leaving Death Valley). Sue decided several trips ago she didn’t like the place, so I deferred to her wishes. I never know when I might want to buy more reloading components, another gun, another watch, or another motorcycle, so we took a pass on the Mad Greek (Sue is of Greek ancestry; maybe that has something to do with it). When I ever pass through Baker on my own, though, the Mad Greek is a sure thing.
The other thing Baker is famous for is its thermometer. It’s 134 feet tall, in honor of reaching that record temperature in 1913 (I guess we had global warming back then, too). If you go through Baker, you have to get a photo of the Baker thermometer. It’s a rite of passage.
Highway 127
The ride north through the California desert from Baker to Death Valley is both beautiful and historic. It follows the Old Spanish Trail, something I had never of until I saw the signs and did a little research. Established in 1829, the Spanish Trail is a 700-mile long road that runs from Santa Fe to southern California. It traverses New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and California. John C. Fremont and Kit Carson used it. Serapes and other woven goods went to California from New Mexico; California’s horses and mules went to Santa Fe. Indian slaves, contraband, and more used this same route.
Shoshone
The first time I ever visited Shoshone was on the Destinations Deal ride. I remember well the terror I felt on that stretch of road, leading a group of other riders after a long day through Death Valley. We were heading south on Badwater Basin Road and I was relying on my cell phone and Waze to guide me. I was worried about running out of gas, keeping one eye on the gas gage and the other on the road. I should be okay, I kept thinking, but I’d never been this way before and I didn’t know. Then my Waze program quit. It had been running on stored info because I had no cell phone reception for the last 60 or 70 miles. The gas gage was nudging closer to the “no more” line and I was sweating bullets. It sure was remote out there.
Finally, Highway 178 ran into Highway 127 and a sign pointed to Shoshone. I felt better, and then I realized I didn’t have the Shoshone Inn’s address where we would spend the night. “How will I find it?” I wondered. It wouldn’t be easy leading other riders while looking for the place (I’ve had to do this on other rides). Then I was suddenly in Shoshone and I started to laugh. You can’t miss the Shoshone Inn. It’s one of only three or four buildings. I’d say Shoshone was a wide spot in the road, but California 127 was no wider there than it was anywhere else.
Shoshone was founded by Ralph Fairbanks in 1910; initially, it was primarily a mining town (old Ralph was a Death Valley prospector and entrepreneur). Charles Brown (yep, Charlie Brown) married Fairbanks’ daughter. Charlie and Stella moved away, but they returned in 1920 and further developed the town. Charlie became a California state senator and he turned ownership of Shoshone over to his son (who was also named Charles Brown). I guess you might say Shoshone is a Charlie Brown kind of place. I been there a few times, always looking for a girl named Lucy, but so far, I’ve had no luck.
As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the Population 31 sign lied. It’s only 13 people now. The lady who runs the hotel (Jennifer, not Lucy) commutes from Pahrump (Pahrump is about 45 minutes east on the other side of the Nevada state line). She told us about the sign lying. The rest of the people either died or moved away. None of them were named Lucy.
Shoshone is the last town before the southern entrance to Death Valley National Park. One woman, a Mrs. Sorrells, inherited the town. There’s a school that handles kids from K through 12th grade, some of whom commute from up to 120 miles away. There’s a general store (including a gas station), a museum, a restaurant (the Crowbar Cafe and Saloon), a nature trail, an RV park, and an unmanned airstrip. I guess if you are flying to Shoshone, you have to make a pass or two over the runway to make sure it’s clear.
The Shoshone Inn
The Shoshone Inn is surprisingly nice, although it’s probably time for it to be refurbished. There’s a gas-fired fire pit outside in the unpaved parking lot; when I rode into Shoshone with the Destinations Deal crew we spent a nice evening drinking Joe Gresh’s beer, which he bought from Shoshone’s next-door Charles Brown general store.
I got up early the next morning to take pictures with my film camera (the N70 my sister gave to me) and I saw that the fire pit was still going; I think the Shoshone Inn desk clerk may have forgotten to turn it off (they will be surprised when they get their gas bill).
The Charlie Brown Rocks
When I Googled what else was around Shoshone, the Charlie Brown rocks appeared. Highway 178 east intersects with Highway 127 right at the southern edge of Shoshone. When I saw the Charlie Brown rocks on Google, I wasn’t sure how far east on 178 I’d have to go, but when I approached Shoshone, I saw it was not far at all. The rocks are what appear to be sandstone formations and they are kind of in your face as you approach Shoshone. I could see the cave openings I’d read about, but there were signs to ward off trespassers and I didn’t want to wander in. A few photos were good enough.
The Crowbar Cafe and Saloon
Sue and I had two meals in the Crowbar. As I had experienced on previous visits (especially if you get there later in the day) it’s good to have three or four meal choices ready when the waitress takes your order. Hamburgers? No hamburgers, we had a busload of Chinese tourists come through and they ate all the hamburgers. Trout? No trout. Tacos? Yep, the Crowbar had tacos and they were surprisingly good.
When we left after lunch that first day, we spotted a small airplane on the runway at the town’s southern edge (the runway is tucked into the southeastern corner of the Highway 127/178 intersection). There’s no tower or buildings or anything else there, and you only see that it’s a paved runway when you look (you wouldn’t notice it otherwise). We think the four young guys who were sitting one table over from us at lunch flew in from somewhere to eat at the Crowbar.
We sat at the bar the next night and the one-man-band lady who handled everything (waitressing, barmaiding, dishwashing, etc.) asked if I wanted a beer. You bet, I answered. There were four taps, all unmarked. She didn’t know which tap had which beer, so she poured me a small sample of each and I opted for a craft-brewed dark beer. The bartender/waiter/dishwasher told me was made in nearby Tecopa. It was good, as were the chicken fajitas Sue and I shared for dinner.
The Shoshone Museum
We didn’t go into the Shoshone museum because it was closed the two times we visited the Crowbar (it’s right next door). It didn’t look as if there was much there; it was all housed in a very small building. I took a picture of an old Chevy, an old fuel pump, and a bit of junk in front of the museum. I’m guessing the museum used to be a gas station. I’ll bet Charlie Brown owned it.
Tecopa Springs
Tecopa Springs is short drive east of Shoshone on Highway 178. We went there twice. We saw quite a few RVs but we only saw a few people in front of Tecopa’s two restaurants. A young fellow we spoke to at the Crowbar the previous night told us he lived in Tecopa for six months each year and worked remotely (he was a digital nomad like Mike Huber). I imagine he spent winters in Tecopa and found someplace cooler in the summer. He said he came into Shoshone once a week for dinner because he wanted fried food and he couldn’t make fried food in his RV.
The two restaurants in Tecopa are a barbeque place and a combined bar and pizza place. The digital nomad we spoke with in the Crowbar said Wednesday (the day we rolled into Tecopa for dinner) was the best night at the barbeque place, but that restaurant was closed when we rode by. We rode on to the beer and pizza palace. When we entered, I asked the guy at the bar about the dark beer I’d had the night before in Shoshone (which was made in Tecopa), but they didn’t serve that brew there. He gave me a small sample of their dark beer (also brewed in Tecopa). It had kind of a peanut flavor to it and I thought it was okay, but the beer the previous night was better. The bar only had two seats; there were other people drinking and smoking at tables outside the restaurant.
When I asked about their dark beer, the one guy who was seated at the bar told me,”it’s this one…the dick.” I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly until I looked at the tap (which I hadn’t noticed). It was, indeed, a dick. I had to grab a photo.
We ordered a pizza that seemed to take forever. When the guy finally brought it out, it was cold. It had probably sat for a while. Trust me on this: You wouldn’t want to make the trip to Tecopa for the pizza. Maybe the photo ops, but not the pizza.
There’s also a date farm somewhere beyond Tecopa. Sue and I rode out there after dinner, but it closed at 5:00 p.m. and we were too late. They had date shakes and I was looking forward to one, but that will have to wait until my next visit.
The Amargosa Opera House
After poking around a bit more on the Internet, I read about the Amargosa Opera House in Death Valley Junction. It was 50 miles north of Shoshone. The pictures on the Internet looked like the Opera House theatre’s interior would make for an interesting photo stop, so I called a couple of days before. I mentioned that I was doing this for the ExhaustNotes website and possibly, a travel article for Motorcycle Classics magazine.
A young lady answered the phone and told me I needed to email their Director of Operations. She promised he would get back to me that day. That sounded like a plan and the Director of Operations did indeed get back to me with this message: I could take their daily tour (at a cost of $15 per person) or I could pay $500 for one hour to photograph the theatre. Gulp. I can’t remember ever paying anyone anything for something like this.
Sue and I rode to Death Valley Junction anyway, and I grabbed a few photos from the outside. When we first saw the place, it looked run down. It’s hard to believe anyone would stay their hotel, but I guess people do. A few photos and a $500 savings later, we were back on the road.
Pahrump
After spending another half day in Death Valley National Park, we decided to head over to Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. That’s near Las Vegas. On the way over, we crossed into Nevada and entered Pahrump. Pahrump is a much bigger town than anything around Death Valley. It has been one of the fastest growing towns in the entire U.S., with 15% year-over-year population growth for each of the last several years. We thought Pahrump would be a good place to have lunch, and we were right.
Sue found a place called Mom’s on her cell phone, it had great reviews, and we had to wait a few minutes to get in (which is always a good sign). Trust me on this: If you ever find yourself in Pahrump, Mom’s is where you want to eat.
As I mentioned above, we went through Pahrump on our way to the Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area. I was going to squeeze that in here, too, but this blog is getting a little long. I’ll save Red Rock for another blog.
On the ride out of town on our way back to Shoshone, we stopped for gas in Pahrump. It was $3.68 per gallon. That’s a good two bucks cheaper than what we pay in California. After filling up and on the way out of town, we saw a gun store creatively named Pahrump Guns and Ammo. Sue won’t let me drive past a gun store without stopping, so we did. It was a small place and we had a nice visit with the two guys who worked there. I told them we were from California and we were collecting campaign contributions for Hillary Clinton. We had a good laugh. People in Pahrump have a sense of humor.
Barstow’s Del Taco Restaurants
You probably think I’m crazy including the Barstow Del Taco restaurants in this blog. I’m listing it here because if you’re going to Death Valley from southern California, it’s a safe bet you’re going to pass through Barstow, and if you’re going to pass through Barstow, you need to stop at one of the three Del Tacos there.
There’s a story behind this. About 15 years ago I had a bad motorcycle crash and I had to spend a month in the hospital. One of the guys I shared a room with was the son of Ed Hackbarth, the entrepreneur who founded the Del Taco restaurant chain.
Ed Hackbarth is a real prince of a guy. He started Del Taco in Barstow, the restaurant chain was riotously successful, and it spread all over the U.S. Ed sold the Del Taco chain way back in 1976 to a group of investors and it continues to thrive. But there’s a big difference between the rest of the Del Taco empire and the three Del Tacos in Barstow. When Ed sold Del Taco, part of the deal was that he kept the original three Barstow Del Tacos. Ed would continue to use the Del Taco name on those three restaurants, but he didn’t have to use the Del Taco menu and he could serve food the way he wanted. And that’s what Ed does. The portions are bigger (they’re huge, actually), everything is fresh (nothing is ever frozen), the restaurants are immaculate, and the staff is super friendly. The Barstow Del Tacos have some of the best tacos and burritos I’ve ever had. We won’t drive through Barstow without stopping at one of Ed’s three Del Tacos, and there’s been times we’ve made the 80-mile trek from my home to Barstow just for a taco. You should try one. You can thank me later.
I’ll bet you never thought you’d find me reading (much less writing a review about) a romance novel. You might be thinking we’re getting desperate for ExNotes content. Nope, it’s not that at all. We’re into our sixth year publishing ExNotes, and somehow content just keeps jumping over the transom and into the boat. It’s been an enjoyable ride with no signs of slowing down.
So back to the main attraction and the topic of this blog: Finding Home. It’s a romance novel, and it’s the first book in this genre I’ve ever read. If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll share with you that I enjoyed it. You might be thinking there’s no way in hell you’d ever read a romance novel, and that’s okay. But what about your significant other? Would she enjoy a good read?
Finding Home is a great story about a woman who finds a new life, a new location, and a new love. Discarded after a long marriage by a callous and selfish husband, Katherine (the main character) makes a somewhat impulsive decision to relocate to Rehoboth Beach during a 6-month sabbatical. She finds new friends (a group of successful businesswomen) and a new man in her life, and then faces a new set of challenges when her sabbatical ends. Building on the success and confidence Katherine gained in the Rehoboth Beach move, she is faced with another set of life altering decisions. I won’t reveal the ending (no spoilers in this review), but I will tell you that Katherine’s new circle of friends sets up a continuing line of novels from this new author (which I look forward to reading).
Deborah Smith Cook’s interests and expertise in several areas are skillfully woven into the novel, including bicycling, cooking, fine wines, fine dining, Nikon photography, creative writing, and more. This (along with a good story line, superb character development, and great writing) make Finding Home‘s substantive heft (380 pages!) move along quickly. The chapters are light and frequent, and for me that made reading several each evening a well-anticipated treat.
In the interests of full disclosure, you should know that I know the author. Deborah Smith Cook was one of just under 200 classmates with whom I graduated high school. I’ve seen Deborah every 10 or 30 years or so at high school reunions (the most recent being our 50th reunion). I bought Finding Home because I knew the author and I thought it would be cool to support another writer’s efforts (rather than always asking folks to support mine). Then I found I enjoyed the story. I think you will, too. And I know your wife, girlfriend, sister, mother, or daughter will.
I guess I like Death Valley, because when Sue and I learned we had to use or lose some of our airline miles (and that we could use them for a hotel stay), we opted for a couple of nights at the Shoshone Inn in Shoshone, California (Shoshone is a little town just below Death Valley’s southern edge). Plus, I wanted to play with the N70 Nikon (a film camera) a little more and compare some of its photos to the digital pics from my Nikon D810.
The plan was to roll in to Shoshone through Baker, and hit Dante’s View, Zabriskie Point, Artist’s Palette, Badwater Basin, the Ashford Mill ruins, and then head back to Shoshone. If we had enough time, we wanted to explore other points of interest, too.
Dante’s View
Our first stop the next morning was at Dante’s View. This spot gives a good overview of nearly the entire Death Valley basin and the surrounding mountains. Here’s the view looking northwest:
The vantage point at Dante’s View is really a panorama from nearly due north to nearly due south. I took several photographs from that vantage point and stitched them together in Photoshop. The photo below is a link. If you click on it, it will open a larger version.
Zabriskie Point
From there, it was on to Zabriskie Point. We backtracked from Dante’s View back to Highway 190, turned left, and then headed to Zabriskie Point. The ride through the rolling desert was nice, and the views were spectacular.
Artist’s Palette
From there it was on to Artist’s Palette and then Badwater Basin. Artist’s Palette is a on a road that cuts off of Badwater Basin Road. The name is based on the fact that the hills in that area are multicolored. I plan to do another blog in the near future just on Artist’s Palette and the geology that gives the place its many hues.
You might be wondering about the photo at the very top of this blog (I repeated here so you wouldn’t have to scroll up). No, I didn’t just happen to trip the D810 Nikon’s shutter when lightning struck. This is the same photograph of Artist’s Palette two pics up, but I had a little fun with a c0uple of PhotoShop features. I used the program’s artificial intelligence selection feature to select the sky (which, as you can see from the earlier photo was nice and sunny), and then I told PhotoShop to replace the sky with dark clouds and lightning. PhotoShop gave me three options; I selected the one you see here. What’s kind of cool is that it also shaded the mountains a bit, as they would appear under a dark and cloudy sky. I’m still on the fence on this topic of artificial intelligence and its uses. I’d prefer just plain old actual intelligence in more of my fellow mammals, but hey, I’m a grumpy old man who likes to shout at the clouds. What’s nice is now I can use AI to make the clouds appear whenever I want to.
Badwater Basin
After Artist’s Palette, we were back on Badwater Basin Road, headed south to Badwater Basin. Death Valley, as most folks know, is below sea level. As you ride through different parts of Death Valley, there are signs showing how far you are below sea level. It’s cool. Badwater Basin is the lowest of the low at 282 feet below sea level.
We had a lot of rain in southern California this winter, and in Death Valley, that resulted Badwater Basin being submerged. There was enough a couple of weeks before our visit that the National Park Service allowed kayaking in Badwater Basin. By the time of our visit, though, the Park authorities had put a lid on that. There was still water present, but it had receded enough that people would have to walk through the muck at the edges, which would damage the area. It’s too bad; a photo of folks kayaking in Badwater Basin would have been cool.
One of the nice things about traveling to places like Death Valley is that you meet people from all over the world. We had a nice conversation with a young guy from Beijing who was an exchange student in the Cal State system. I asked where he was from and he was hesitant to tell me at first, which I chalked up to nervousness induced by the tense(r) situation between the US and Chinese governments. I told him about our travels through China and that broke the ice. He was impressed.
When you stand at the edge of Badwater Basin, there are mountains to the left and mountains to the right. I took nine photos and stitched them together in PhotoShop, just like I did for the Dante’s View panorama above. If you click on the photo below, it will open a larger version, which gives a small hint at the grandeur of the Badwater Basin vantage point.
Ashford Mill Ruins
There’s not much to the Ashford Mill Ruins. It’s the shell of a building that processed gold prior to shipment out of Death Valley. It was on the road back to Shoshone, so we stopped to grab a few photos.
We wrapped up our ride through Death Valley late in the day, continuing south on Badwater Basin Road and then east as it became Highway 178. It was back to Shoshone for us, with dinner that night in Tecopa Springs. I’ll tell you more about that hopping locale in the next blog.