OK, let’s go. Day 1: Baltimore to Las Vegas (about 2100 miles)

We watched the Redskins blow it in a bar called the Greene Turtle at BWI with some cool folks and a really funny waitress named Dawn. We boarded a puddle jumper to Cleveland and discovered we weren’t sitting together. The flight was overbooked so they were looking to give $200 travel vouchers if you would take a later flight. As tempting as it was, we wouldn’t be getting into Vegas until after 10pm anyway so we passed on that offer. The 4 hour hop from Cleveland was on a “normal” sized plane & aside from the fact that we weren’t sitting together again the flight was uneventful.
As we drove down the strip on a fairly quiet Sunday night, The fountain show at the Bellagio was in full swing.

We headed down to our overnight at Circus Circus (which is actually a metaphor for my life). We were already tired and didn’t want to trek back outside to the outbuildings they were planning on sticking us in so the lovely Mary Alice at the reception desk upgraded us to the main building. We dumped our luggage and headed to the casino for a little slot action.

I was on a roll and was ahead $6.00 when Don decided I needed to go home a winner (kill joy). May I add that Circus Circus is perhaps the cheesiest hotel on the strip. I am not 100% sure since this is my first Vegas trip but I am a betting woman and I would put some money on that.

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The countdown has begun. The Russos are packing it up and taking it on the road again. This time we are headed West and will start in lovely Las Vegas, Nevada. Rest assured that what happens in Vegas won’t stay in Vegas because I’ll be blogging it all! As we visit amazing Zion National Park then detour through Monument Valley on our way to the Grand Canyon I’ll take you all with us while we celebrate our 35th wedding anniversay. (Don’t tell Don but I may have us renew our vows with an Elvis impersonator – Viva Las Vegas!

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Since we were within striking distance of central Florida & Don’s parents winter in Kissimmee, we had to veer off our course. Rosemarie and Bill live in a “retirement community”,  which is sanctioned segregation for the 55 and above crowd. My mother-in-law flew me a text on her IPhone (no grass growing under her) and told me to “enter through the main gate” and Peter would direct us where to go. It seems we had come to the end of our road (trip).

When we approached  the main gate, Peter was there to greet us. He did a fairly thorough job ascertaining who we were and where we were going. He welcomed us with a smile as I was fairly certain he considered us to be potential residents.
Following the directions given to us by Peter, our path was straight and narrow. We passed residents of this place and noted that everyone at the end of the road was the same color (a shade of tan, like leather) and travelled in the same mode. (golf cart)

While trying to locate the pool we left the straight and narrow and found ourselves heading down a long, dark path. Fortunately the local security guards, Gabriel and Michael, found us and nudged us in the right direction. Whew! That was close.
Then we came to an area of communal gardens. There was a lone gardener there planting seeds. It was pretty warm already that morning and we stopped to admire the flowers that were blooming. We told the gardener how pretty we found the garden to be. He straightened up, then wiped his brow. He told us that we should also take up gardening and advised us to be very careful about what seeds we sowed because that would influence the yield we reaped (or something like that, his English was heavily accented and I could hardly understand him). We introduced ourselves and he told us his name was “Hay Seuss”. We thanked him for the gardening tips and then he asked us if we wanted to go fishing with him. Since we were already late getting to the pool we explained that we were trying to go for a swim and had an appointment with John, the pool boy. He said he knew him and told us the water was fine.

(Hay Seuss Rodriguez working in his garden: Gethsemane)

Finally, we were able to locate the Living Waters Pool & Recreation Center but it seemed John had stepped out for a round of golf.

Oh well, it was a great ride with no regrets. I only wish we would have had more time. It seemed the road was too short. Or was it?
We decided that when you get to the end of the road, just consider it the beginning of a new road.

Trip Log Day 7: St. Augustine, FL to The End Of The Road 139 miles
Have a blessed Easter and a safe journey!
Thanks for travelling with us,
Don & Susan

Epilogue:  We just couldn’t resist spending a night in Savannah, GA while we headed back to North Carolina to see Steve. Friday night on the Riverwalk is like a mini Mardi Gras, complete with fireworks. Don shucked a bucket of oysters at Bernie’s River Street Raw Bar. It’s in the old tobacco warehouse and is supposedly haunted. Obviously catering to a “more mature” crowd due to the classic rock that was playing and the presence of many already fully silver heads (unlike mine). We haven’t been in a bar like that since we closed one down in NY when we went up for our neighborhood reunion in the summer of 2010. Those were the days!

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Today we crossed into Florida. This was the short hop of our journey. We decided to head for historic St. Augustine. Pedro Menendez de Aviles and his 800 settlers founded this town as a Spanish colony in 1565. This makes it the oldest city in the continental U. S. Our first stop in this lovely city was to be the Castillo de San Marcos.

This is the oldest masonry fort in the U.S. and it has never been overtaken by force despite many attempts. It over looks Matanzas Bay and when you are standing on it the views are great.

The historic district is crammed full of tourists and they have tons of shops, restaurants and historical sites. After completing the tour of the fort and watching a short video about it we set out in search of some authentic Cuban food. We were walking along the streets but didn’t see any restaurants that fit the bill. I decided we needed to ask a local. I scanned around and spotted . . . an American Legion Hall! Don, being the geezer that he is, has membership in many of these organizations: Legion, VFW, heck he’s probably a Moose, Elk, Loyal Order of Raccoon and Water Buffalo for all I know. We open the door to what is a gorgeous old building on primo real estate right in the heart of the historic district. The Grand Poohbah (or whatever you call him) told us that the site was bequeathed to the Legion and had been there since the 1930’s. The Legionnaires were quick to point us to some close Cuban eats and after we quenched our thirst, it was on to lunch.

As we entered, a sweet elderly woman beckoned us to come into the house. She was a slight, soft-spoken woman and their was a familiar air about her to us. Involuntarily, Don began rubbing his knuckles and deftly darting to and fro. My knees started to hurt. It was undeniable. Our long roots were betraying us. The gentle lady eyed us both and she immediately recognized past victims, er I mean STUDENTS, of the Catholic education system. Although she was dressed in civilian garb, we also were not fooled and knew we were in the presence of a Catholic Nun.
The Sisters of St. Joseph were originally a French order who volunteered to come to America with the mission of teaching freed slaves. They arrived in 1866 after being recruited by Father Miguel O’Reilly who was then the parish priest in St. Augustine. They were skilled in making bobbin lace and made and sold it to help support themselves.
According to Sister Joyce, this house stood on the foundation of the oldest house in St. Augustine tracing back to the 1500s. Behind this house, was a residence for the Sisters and a skilled care facility for those Sisters requiring more care. Sister Joyce told us that all the remaining Sisters of their order here are older women. They are mostly hospital chaplains now as the order is no longer actively teaching. Sister Joyce has a twin sister in another house who serves in this way.
She was really sweet and Don had to apologize for the shirt he was wearing which read:

(At last! I was vindicated in my hatred of his extensive collection of obnoxious slogan t shirts) Sister just laughed and said she thought it was “cute”. At least I could take solace in the fact that Don’s knuckles had been rapped on more than one occasion by one of her fellow sisters.
She then led us back into the garden which contained fruits, vegetables and herbs that were indigenous to the area and used by the populace at that time for food and medicine. She answered our questions and gave us insight to the holdings of the museum. (which was infinitely less interesting than talking with her) When we finished, she gracefully posed for a picture for us.

We sneaked back into the house and left a note of thanks for Sister Joyce on the table (and put a donation into the box to help fund this delightful little respite – Happy Birthday Kim Palmer!)
Trip Log: Whatever the hell (excuse me Sister Joyce – “heck”) day this is : Waycross, GA to St. Augustine, FL 123 miles

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Now that the car is exuding an oniony aroma, we continue down Route 1 to Waycross, GA and The Okefenokee Swamp Park. We check into the brand-spanking new Comfort Inn & Suites throw our junk into the room and fly back out to the swamp. We toyed with the idea of just going to the pool and hot tub and saving the swamp for the next day. But then I reminded Don that the forecast was calling for thunderstorms and since it was sunny right now we should head out. (Weather can either make or brake a trip like this and we have been blessed thus far)
The Okefenokee Swamp houses the headwaters of both the Suwanee (as in, “way down upon the”) & the St. Mary’s River. The swamp was formed by the accumulation of peat in a shallow basin. The water is called “blackwater” due to the accumulation of tannins in it from all the vegetation. It is freshwater and is said to taste like tea. Longtime residents are called “Swampers” and due to their relative isolation, have developed their own phrasing and syntax of language.

We spring for the train ride and boat tour ticket and arrived just in time for the last round of the day. Our train engineer and first tour guide had such a thick “swamper” dialect that we could only understand every 4th word or so. He brought the train to a stop on what was called “Pioneer Island” and invited us to wander around for a while. There was a visitor center with a small museum and he cautioned us to not get too close to the “wawtah” so the “gators don’t git ya”. (At least that’s what I think he said) Hoping to find said gator, I head in the opposite direction of everyone else with Don.

It wasn’t long before I have my close encounter with what seemed to be about an 8ft gator. Moving swiftly in the direction the gator was not heading in, Don and I unknowingly get a little more separated from our group and deeper into the interior of Pioneer Island. Soon Don is drawn to the unmistakable odor of sour mash boiling and sniffs out the moonshiner!

Don’s new friend “Shiny”, as we dubbed him tipped the jug with us a few times then took us over to meet his kinfolk. It seems these were the original “swamp people”.

Don decided to enter the cabin, hoping that by being friendly he would get more corn squeezins’. I decided I would wait on the porch.

Quite some time elapsed and the train whistle was blowing “all aboard!” I decided I’d better search for Don. I stepped off the porch and over what seemed to be a yard littered with empty little brown jugs. I headed for the entrance of the house and there was Don talking to a wooden Indian.

Obviously inebriated. I went in to the house to give those “swampers” a piece of my mind. Imagine, giving that much moonshine to a city boy! But it seemed my admonitions fell on deaf ears.

I told Don we had to hurry so we could make the train but after all that drinking he needed to make a little stop.

Fortunately, we were able to make the train and get back in time to get on what was to be the last boat trip of the day. (Our new mantra  is: ‘If you come late, you get more’) I escorted Don down to the dock and we step into our swamp runner.

We climbed back into the skiff and headed around the island in search of gators. We saw a few.

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When you are travelling down historic Route 1 between Swainsboro and Waycross you will encounter the sweet onion capital of the country, Vidalia GA. His culinary instincts overtook and Don decided to try and see if we could score some of the wonderful local produce. But alas, it seemed the supermarkets in town were not a source of the elusive onions. A clerk at the WalMart directed us to the Vidalia Onion Factory & Gift Shop. Unfortunately, it had closed down. Never one to let a good ingredient get away especially when we were SO CLOSE, Don pulled up to a local gas station and asked a guy dressed in overalls where to purchase some local onions. “They ain’t come out the ground yit,” was the response. According to Lil Abner we were 2 weeks early. So close and yet so far. Downtrodden, Don drove for Route 1. Then a huge flatbed truck crossed in front of us with the unmistakable cargo of crates filled with fresh, loose onions. Of course we followed the truck about 100 ft and it pulls up to what has to be a packing plant. I accost the poor truck driver and ask where we can purchase some of these onions. He points to the doorway and says, “In there”.
AT LAST! We enter the plant and I approach the woman at what seems to be a receiving area with a big sign that says “wholesale only”.

The woman looks at me with a raised eyebrow and I start my spiel about how we’re heading south on this road trip and saw Vidalia and just had to have some onions but we couldn’t find any for purchase and would it be possible for me to perhaps purchase some here? By the way, did I mention we write a travel and food blog? (for some crazy reason, this line elicits a lot of cooperation from folks for some odd reason) She confirms that we could, indeed purchase some onions. However, these have literally just come out of the ground (take that, Lil Abner) and the inspector is out to lunch. They can’t package them for me without the inspector’s approval. (AARRGH!) Now knowing how quickly folks move in these parts, we resign ourselves to the fact that we can’t wait around for the inspector. We thank them for their time, she agrees to let me take a photo for the blog and we get back in the Hyundai.

Once again on Route 1 we head through fields and fields of what have to onions still in the ground, tormenting us. Then we come to:

The City Hall of Santa Claus, GA! (Note the red and white striped awning over the doorway and the statue of St. Nick, himself) The folks here told us that the biggest thing that happens here is that Christmastime they receive a lot of mail requesting postmarks from “Santa Claus”.
Back on the road heading towards Waycross and then we see it!

The roadside stand that is the market for Herndon Farms, local growers of (you guessed it) authentic Vidalia Onions! We pull a u-turn and head back. We meet Mrs. Herndon, the matriarch of Herndon Farms. (“I’m their Momma”) The store is all products Vidalia and of course, onions that have “just come up”. Mrs. H tells us how to “finish ’em” by lying them out singly in a cool place. We make numerous purchases, explain about our blog (she equates it with us being some type of newspaper writers – I don’t think she understood what a blog was) and she gives us a few photo ops.

Now, we are happy campers and can leave with onions in hands. (Don holding “salad onions”)
We’re resting in Waycross, GA now and will tell you of our swamp romp tomorrow.
Trip Log Day 4: 134 miles

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Heading down the road after leaving Columbia, SC we drive through rows and rows of peach trees. The scenery is much more bucolic. Except for the fact that I have never seen so many dollar stores in my life! When did rural America replace roadside establishments with “mini marts” & Dollar General, Dollar Tree, Family Dollar etc.? Honestly, it amazes me how every tiny hamlet has at least one of these places. Often, there are 2 right across the street from each other and they sell the exact same stuff!

The pretty part of the scenery is all the azaleas that are in bloom down here. As we pass small communities their houses are often landscaped with many of these beauties. Augusta National, the golf course where The Masters is held is known for their azaleas. The local news stations are complaining that the recent weather conditions have caused the azaleas to peak early and many of the flowers have already dropped. Same story with the cherry blossoms at home.

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This morning we thought we’d be a little more proactive about finding some accommodations. Now, we had 2 days of data & knew where we wanted to end up today. We were averaging about 200 miles a day before we were done with the car ride. We planned to finish up in Augusta, GA when this day was done. I was looking at the atlas and Don was going to try to find us a reasonable room on line. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, something stirred. Augusta, GA in Spring? There was something significant about it to me. Then it hit. My grandfather and uncle were avid golfers and I watched a ton of it on T.V, during my formative years. Isn’t The Masters golf tournament held there? Don shrugged, as he had no such golf background. “Google The Masters,” I demanded. Lo & behold, this is Master’s Week down in Augusta!
Any hotel room within 75 miles of Augusta is going for over $200 a night. I know this because the hotel I booked is 75 miles south of Augusta and I am currently surrounded by folks attending  The Masters.
Note to self: sometimes a little advance prep is good.

We left Lugoff, SC and headed for Columbia to the Botanical Garden & Zoo. Columbia is called “one hot city” and with our temperature today topping off at 96 degrees, they aren’t kidding. Driving toward the state capitol you start to see all the palmetto & other palm variants and you really start to get that tropical feel. All the azaleas and roses are also out down here.We arrived at our destination and after consulting the map we headed through the zoo toward the botanical gardens.

The part of the gardens we were interested in had a nice trail through the woods that wasn’t vehicle friendly. There was an alternate route for the tram, stroller or wheelchair bound so they could get up to where our trail ended up. We crossed a bridge over a large creek. The original bridge had been burned by the Confederates during the War of Northern Aggression ( I AM in Georgia) and then rebuilt by the Union so Gen. Sherman could get in a reek havoc as he marched toward the sea. (Think Gone With The Wind) There were nice shaded rock croppings and stairs built into the hillsides.

The trail ends up in the Rose Garden. Lots of varieties and colors interspersed with annuals and amaryllis.

The main path is lined with these fountains and on either side are all different gardens. There is a visitor’s center at the end of this path and you go through that and into another set of gardens that has a playground integrated into it. After being so good about being dragged through all these flowers, I rewarded Don with some playground time.

This building houses the government for the state of South Carolina including the State Senate, House of Representatives and the offices of the Governor and Lt. Governor. It sits in a complex that surrounds it with numerous memorials.

You can enter the State House and all the Chambers once you go through the security check. Today the Legislature was on recess and we literally had the place to ourselves.

After Don was removed from “The House” and I finished lobbying “The Senate” we decided to recess for the day and grab some lunch.

“Don, what are you doing?”  “Just talking to some jackass”
We leave Columbia, SC and head off to Augusta, GA. Too tired to continue with that tale today. Stay tuned.
Trip Log Day 3: 201 miles

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OK, I’ll explain how Don came to be surrounded by a bevy of belly dancers with 2 on his lap.

Seven Hours Earlier :  9 a.m. Henderson, NC

(On the Streets of Henderson)

We attempt to have a “continental breakfast” at our hotel. There are exactly 3 pieces of white bread, 1 previously frozen bagel, some Fruit Loops, warm OJ and even warmer milk. The coffee pot is empty. We are not exactly sure on which continent this would be considered a breakfast but suspect possibly Sub-Saharan Africa. We briefly considered warming the bagel by dunking it in the OJ but reconsidered. Fortunately, I travel with Starbucks Vias, Mini-Moos & a bunch of bananas so we did our own breakfast thing. We call our son, Steve, who lives in Raleigh NC and tell him we’ll be there in about an hour.

(left to right: Zack, Mike, Danny)

Six Hours Earlier:  10 a.m. Raleigh, NC
We stop by for some face time with the family. We don’t get to see them as often as we would like to so we plan to return and spend Saturday night there so we can spend Easter morning with them. After an all too brief visit, we plug on for today’s destination: Fayettville, NC

Three Hours Earlier: 1 p.m. Fayettville NC
We arrive starving at ZORBA’S GYRO, 36 years in the same location and an obviously bustling establishment. Full of locals in various stages of breakfast or lunch, this place fits my criteria for a good eats site. Kitchy and with a huge breakfast (served all day) & separate lunch menu promising awesome gyro-ness, we can’t resist.

We order the “gyro platter” with a “spanikopita” app. We are not disappointed.

Now, I have probably been to more than my share of military history related exhibits. My husband’s passion is American history and his passion’s passion is American military history. I have been to more battlefields than General Lee. Today’s trade off was I go to the Airborne Museum & then we go to the Cape Fear Botanical Gardens. We spent a significant portion of our time in this place. I have to say, I was fascinated by the Viet Nam War section. It focused on several early Special Ops guys and their subsequent capture and imprisonment by the Viet Cong. I also spent time in the D-Day landing section with the Airborne. There were many exhibits that encompassed from the very first Airborne divisions all the way to the present conflict in Afghanistan and how Spec Ops are involved. There are cool life size helicopters and planes suspended from the ceiling with paratroopers hanging from them.

By the time we finished up there, it was too late to go to the Botanical Gardens. However, there was a park across from the museum dedicated to North Carolina’s veterans. It had warmed up significantly and the sun was shining through some clouds so we decided to check it out.

Thirty minutes earlier: 3:30 p.m. Veteran’s Park Fayetteville, NC

There were numerous water features with sculptural and architectural accents that represented the various military services and that memorialized the fallen.

I violate Road Trip Rule #2 : No explanations.
(Many thanks to The Shadows of The Fire Dance Troupe – you ladies Rock, or is it roll?)http://www.shadowsofthefire.com/

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After checking into the EconoLodge, we decided to explore the historic district of downtown Henderson. A town who’s history is steeped in tobacco, cotton, textiles and the railroad it still epitomizes Americana. The main drag has some architectural gems and an amazing number of furniture stores for such a small locale. (OK, it is North Carolina so I get the furniture thing) Everyone we passed on the street gave us a warm greeting or smile. Of course Don being decked out in full geezer regalia (John F. Kennedy/ USN hat and T-shirt that reads: “U. S. Navy 90,000 Tons of Diplomacy”) didn’t hurt.

Find Of The Day:  SKIPPER’S FORSYTH’S BAR-B-Q

Trust me on this one. If you find an eating establishment that has been in the same location since 1941, eat there. If it’s painted pastel blue, has a chalkboard listing the daily specials and a big pink plastic pig inside all the better! Ms. Regina inherited the place from her grandparents & keeps her recipes a guarded secret. The staff and patrons were poster children for southern hospitality. When Don asked what Brunswick Stew was an older gentleman in another booth told him to come over and see his! The waitress then brought us both out samples. Since it had Bar-B-Q in the name I figured I couldn’t go wrong ordering that. We also tried the fried chicken, hush puppies, collards, mac n cheese and cole slaw. While everything was definitely top notch good ole southern home cooking, the Bar-B-Q was amazing! Moist but not sopping, tangy NC style was cloying but not choking. Our friend from the next booth leaned over and told us that when you come in “late” the portions get bigger. (It was 7:30 p.m. OK, the city that never sleeps it’s not) When we asked our high school senior waitress where the hot spots were in town tonight, she just laughed. Our manager and “the girls” came and sat by us after the other customers left and told us that last night they had a celebrity entourage as one of the stars of “Swamp People” had been there last night. We had a delightful time just talking food and travel and will definitely come by again. Why not? The chef said that next time we come “they’ll fix us some real good seafood”. We can’t wait.
Day 1 log:  215 miles Linden, VA to Henderson, NC

The Road Trip Rules:
1.  No Whining (my exception: whining on the blog is OK)
2.  No Explanations (Don’s exception: If he’s asleep and I come in at 2 am naked and covered in war paint,
I better explain)
3.  No continuous country music ( I can only take so much)
4.  No hitch hikers – sorry Kim, I draw the line at this random act of kindness

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