Day 56 - Italiano No-No

Author – Grant
From – Asheville, North Carolina
To – Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Miles Driven – 220

Today’s Photos - Not many today as the camera wasn't charged. Oops. http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611959649760/

I was emotionally torn when saying goodbye to our Christmas home in Asheville on the morning of Day 56. On one hand I was sad to see the back of such a beautiful cottage in the middle of heaven where life as so easy and Molly had fallen in love. On the other hand, one of the local dogs had taken our garbage and spread it over half an acre (for the third day in a row) and I’m getting bored of clearing it up. It doesn’t seem to matter what precautionary security measure I take with the rubbish, one of the hounds still manages to unlock it and make modern art with it which is pretty impressive for an animal that is supposedly lacking in opposable thumbs.

The drive from Asheville to Chapel Hill was fairly unremarkable although we were blessed with yet another sharp day with blue skies and blinding sunshine which made the four hour drive fly by for me although not so much for the passenger. If you’ve joined us throughout this journey then you’ll know we’ve been experimenting with various in-car entertainment choices including audio books, religious radio sermons and comedy podcasts in addition to the obvious music. Today we popped in one of Kate’s Christmas presents which was the soundtrack from the show Avenue Q. If you haven’t seen or heard of it then think of Jim Henderson’s Muppets if they had gone off the rails and were currently in rehab. It’s the funniest thing I have ever seen on stage (i.e. it’s the perfect blend of childish and vulgar) and each song is a masterpiece. The only danger is leaving the car, standing in line for a sandwich and realizing that you are still singing politically incorrect lyrics from “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” or “The Internet is For Porn” under your breath. Funny but dangerous.

Our hotel in Chapel Hill is a classic example of “the internet pictures look nicer than reality”. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a bad place. In fact, I’d go as far to say that it’s pretty good but the web pictures didn’t indicate just how much faux Italian crap there was going to be. The theme is supposed to be Tuscan but it is about a subtle as being punched in the face by a Tuscan native eating a Tuscan sandwich whilst someone tattoos the word Tuscan in mirror writing on your eyeballs. Still, our room is huge, the staff are super friendly and all the furniture smells of rosemary and is edible. OK, the last bit is a lie. Since we’ve been in North Carolina we’ve noticed just how ridiculously friendly everyone is. It’s a bit of a culture shock at first when you’re so used to surly staff further north and it’s taking some getting used to. I’m just learning that before ordering something here, it’s the culture to have an actual conversation first. For example, in New York when ordering a coffee the conversation goes “Hi. One coffee please. Milk, No Sugar”. Even there I have used at least one word too many (namely “please”) but I am an English gentleman and hence I am naturally polite. Here in NC, the conversation is more like “Hi”, “Hi, how are you?”, “I’m fine thanks, how are you?”, “Well I’m doing just great thanks. Now that funny accent tells me you’re not from around here so what brings you to these here parts?”, “Well actually we’re passing through as we’re doing a road trip….blah, blah, blah” Now this conversation can go on for several minutes when all that is running through my head is “give me my coffee or I’ll rip your head off” and it’s not that I’m bored of explaining our situation, it’s just that I’m used to getting things quicker. I’m sure I’ll relax more then longer we spend down here.

Tomorrow night is New Years Eve upon which it is customary for all adults around the world to get obliterated. We have wisely declined to join in the hotel’s 20’s theme party (that’s the 1920’s meaning flappers etc rather than 20 year olds meaning slappers etc) and have opted instead to trawl some of the local bars to get a better taste of Chapel Hill. As such, our bell boy Bradley (notable by his filthy suit with shiny elbows) had made us up a map of local bars. As such, we spent the afternoon wandering round the tiny quaint town working out what was on offer. It so happens that town is a two mile uphill walk from our hotel so what better way to celebrate our arrival than with a massive ice cream from Cold Stone Creamery. This was another first for us and I thought it was just another naff chain in the same vein as Dairy Queen. How wrong I was. Kate’s Apple Pie ice cream (vanilla ice cream, Graham Cracker, Apple Pie filling…all mixed up in front of your face by hand on an iced board) was probably the nicest ice cream I have ever tasted. I realise that’s quite a bold statement but as I sit here typing this I am tempted to grab the car keys and go get another.

Dinner was in the hotel’s AAA (although I’m not sure how many A’s is good), 4 Diamond (although I’m not sure how many Diamonds is good or what the Diamond to A exchange rate is) Tuscan (shocker) restaurant called Il Palio which I liked the look of because the head chef is seriously fat. Beyond my fat and venturing into the “surely your knees hurt” fat. Unsurprisingly, the food is richer than Donald Trump but it’s also pretty darn good. We had a really citrusy squid, crawfish & shrimp cerviche, a horrible looking yet beautifully tasking liquidy, grey chicken liver pate, a super rich wholeweat parpadelle bolognese, grass-fed angus NY strip and a chicken risotto. Where it let itself down a bit for us was, in-keeping with the attached hotel, it was all a bit too themed and traditional. From the 3D horse painting looming over us to the oil station to the waistcoated waiters all just screamed old-school circa 1980s as it was just needlessly formal and the kind of place where you are expecting a tableside Crepe Suzette for dessert…but, unfortunately, they didn’t. Still, the place was full on a Tuesday night (admittedly with an older clientele) so there is clearly a niche for this kind of thing. There was a table containing three generations of family celebrating Grandma’s birthday and this was probably the perfect venue for that but I’m not sure who else they will attract. Anyway, post-dinner comedy highlight was Kate’s inspection of the intricate gingerbread house of the hotel that is on display in the lobby which she managed to smack one of the hand-crafted characters off. Two beers…just two beers.

Tomorrow brings more Chapel Hill explorations, investing the possibility of getting tickets to see some college basketball and the annual drink till you can’t drink any more then have a few shorts party. Lovely.

Days 53, 54 & 55 - Busy Doing Nothing

Author - Grant
Based In – Asheville, North Carolina

Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611810724169/

The longest we have stayed in one place so far on this trip has been our three night stopover in Buffalo for Thanksgiving - so this prospect to be under a single roof for a whole six nights absolutely could not be wasted. As such, on the agenda was catching up on all our laundry, see everything that Asheville has to offer, visit the local Smokey Mountain National Park for hiking, see the Biltmore House (ex-home of the Vanderbilts and the most visited mansion in North America), ski/snowboard in Wolf Ridge and climb Black Mountain. As I type this, we have less than 12 hours to go before being evicted from our cottage (of which the next 9 will involve sleeping) and, from the “to do” list, we have crossed off laundry and nothing else. It has been, in summary, bliss.

Despite having declared how peaceful these last few days have been, somehow it has all been a bit, well, exhausting. It’s a cliché to say that doing nothing is tiring but I am assuming that the person that made up that particular cliché was Kate’s ex-boyfriend. For some reason, the second I sit down and open a book, Kate appears and finds something quite legitimate that I should be doing other than relaxing. Jobs vary from whipping up some food (apparently I am in charge of getting her cereal because I am a “chef”) to cleaning up the garbage which, each morning, is strewn across the back lawn. We like to blame this latter phenomenon on something exotic like bears or wolves but the reality is that it is probably our insatiably hungry puppy that has learnt where we hide the potato peelings.

Talking of our garbage, I feel like I’ve fully taken advantage of this kitchen so here’s a rundown of the grub I’ve served up in the last few days. I took a smoked ham and made a soup of potato, corn, cheese and…well…smoked ham. The soup was supposed to be a starter but, as is a recurring problem of mine, the portion was enough to bathe in. So the main course was saved for lunch the following day. The problem was, it was far too big for lunch and hence dinner had to be cancelled. Anyone spotting a recurring theme here? I was attempting to do a healthy stuffed pepper but, because I cooked waaaay too much rice and veg stuffing, I packed it in with my elbow resulting in peppers that weighed about 15lbs a piece. And, of course, I had a bunch of London broil to use up which I sautéed with tomatoes and curry which was then used to support the aforementioned 15lb pepper. Betty Crocker helped us make a dozen gooey oatmeal and chocolate cookies. We meant to eat a couple and take the rest across to our temporary landlords but, after eating eight of them it was too embarrassing to walk across with such a pitiful amount so they have gone stale and will be fed to the local pack of dogs tomorrow morning. The final meal was served tonight and was a request meal. I like to annoy Kate by taking what she asks for and tweaking it enough to keep me interested. As such, her request for grilled chicken, mash and peas turned into roast Cornish hen, Colcannon Mash, three types of veg and jus. She moaned all the way up until the plate was put in front of her and then she did her “happy hoover” impression which is her version of two thumbs up.

It took us three days of cottage hibernation (Kate has been sleeping 15 hours a day on average) before finally venturing into the centre of Asheville but it was well worth the wait. It has the feel of a European ski report, barely any building is over one storey, there is a climbing wall and, unusually, there is a distinct lack of any food chains which is refreshing. Adding to the charm of the place is the constant reminder that the town is filled with old stoners (“hippies” is the preferred term but if they aren’t going to respect my wish to be addressed as “pie challenged” then sod them). It seems law here that males have beards and longer hair than their spouses. Furthermore, shops are adorned with signs like “Shoot for the moon, if you miss you’ll still be amongst the stars”…even our cottage has a tambourine on the wall that is scribed with “Take the risk to blossom”. Adding to the kookiness when we visited town for lunch was a hyperactive, jigging moron with a fiddle and, later in the day, a man dressed as a gingerbread man dancing around a moving bus…however, I’m hoping that someone spiked my grits. Nice place though – well worth a visit. My advise, however, is that you don’t stay in Bull Creek Cottage because, by comparison, everything else sucks.

The last blog contained some sexually explicit material about Molly for which I make no apologies but I am sad to say that her relationship with Miles had come off the boil somewhat since then. Basically Miles has gotten sick of being the bitch of the couple and now only comes over to our house for attention from humans rather than Molly’s relentless and inappropriate dry humping. This has, however, provided us with endless entertainment over the last few days and I will miss it hugely when we are forced to leave here tomorrow morning. We’ll also miss the fire pit which we have both taken turns in engulfing in enough fire to cook up a paella for the entire Basque region. Only this afternoon, Kate, fuelled with half a bottle of sparkling wine, built a fire that partly explains the frightening depletion of the rainforests and will continue to radiate heat for our children’s children. It’s been a fun competition though. Which I won.

So we leave for Chapel Hill tomorrow where we will spend three nights over New Year. I was tasked with arranging the New Year venue and my research uncovered that a North Carolina senator had once said “Why build a zoo when we can just put a fence around Chapel Hill?” They had me at "zoo".

Day 52 - Molly In Love

Author – Grant
Based In – Asheville, North Carolina
Number of Times Kate Left The House - Zero

Today’s Photos (warning – contains sexually explicit material) - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611704175308/

Stringing out today beyond a couple of paragraphs is going to be a real challenge. We basically did nothing. I walked Molly. We read a lot. We ate a lot (again). It was magnificent. The highlight was probably watching Molly fall deeper in love with Miles (the dog who lives across the creek) as their relationship hit the somewhere between 3rd and 4th base. I don’t want to be crude but our little princess was involved in some dry humping but she has delusions of being male as she was the dominant one. I’m planning to have a birds and bees chat with her tomorrow to explain where she’s going wrong.

The lack of activity did allow me to further flex my culinary muscles but after two incredibly heavy days of eating, it was with explicit instructions to keep it light. As such, the menu consisted of garlic, chili and sage marinated grilled flank steak with a cranberry sauce and mixed salad. Nods of approval all round and I was especially happy with the cranberry sauce which, admittedly isn’t rocket science, but I haven’t made it before and it was a perfect accompaniment to the medium rare slivers of charred cow.

How do I make the rest of the night sound exciting? We played Trivial Pursuit, watched a frightening amount of TV and the nightly “guess what time Kate will fall asleep” game was won by Molly who guessed 10:16pm. Planning some proper hiking tomorrow to try and shake of this lethargy…and because the fridge has no more meat left in it.

Day 51 - It's Christmas Day Innit

Author - Grant

Based In – Asheville (NC)
Notable Birthdays – Jesus

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611594866123/

We’re close to being so unexcited by Christmas morning that we have breakfast before opening presents…but we’re not quite there. I did, I admit, need the regenerating power of a cup of tea before the grand opening but then we were good to go. I’m pleased to say that Santa found us despite the lack of permanent address and that, as always, he was very good to me as I have a bunch of good reading to get through, a fine Paul Smith scarf, a Cadbury’s Selection Box (which, thankfully, I didn’t have to share as Kate bought herself one as well) and the obligatory Christmas jumper (that’s a sweater for you Americans). I’ve been holding back from buying some much needed socks for the past few weeks in the assumption that St Nick would bring me some as I am over 30 but I’ll now have to hit the January sales ASAP as my current stock are holier than the pope. I think Kate was happy enough with the pressies I got her although I’ll see how many of them are on e-Bay by the weekend to confirm that.

Breakfast was a rather elegant affair with toasted English muffins, poached eggs, hollandaise sauce and lemon smoked salmon. I think that’s called Norwegian Eggs Benedict but it might not be…whatever it’s called, it’s a fine way to start the day. With only one reason to leave the cottage today (Christmas lunch) and fours hours until that moment, we filled the void by sitting on our fat asses, calling family, putting a sizeable dent in the selection boxes and watching the two hour Christmas Special of The Office (the original English one). Is it wrong to admit that, despite having seen it half a dozen times, I still get a bit of a lump when Dawn comes back to the office party. I’m welling up just typing that. Football. Beer. Boobs. That’s better.

Lunch was at the magnificent Grove Park Inn which, it seemed, was hosting everyone in the northern hemisphere. The place is a labyrinth and parking caused a very un-Christmassy barney between us which I will hold up my hand and take the blame for starting. When we did finally find our restaurant (the grand ball room), there was a line of people fifty deep (which extended to about 150 later in the day) as the archaic check-in system (a stressed out old fella with a white board) was causing chaos. I’m pleased to say, however, that despite being just 50 feet (and yet 30 minutes) from food, I neither maimed nor killed anyone. Lunch was buffet style so, after being seated, we waited a polite 4 to 6 seconds before re-rising to attack the food. Is there a protocol about how long you are supposed to wait or does everyone just mess up their napkin and make a run for it? Anyway, the food was both plentiful and surprisingly good considering they were going to feed over two thousand people that day. Amongst the classics that you would expect on your Christmas plate, there were a few surprise dishes such as Shepherd’s Pie (did someone tell them the British were coming?) and mini-hamburgers (which I believe were also served at the last supper). Ninety minutes later I was disappointed that Santa hadn’t delivered me elastic pants.

In a pathetic attempt to aid digestion, we had a quick walk around the property and stumbled on the national gingerbread house competition winners. Impressive stuff but I could no longer hide the fact that one of my shoes had no heal and Kate looked close to sleep…after all she had been awake for over three consecutive hours by this point. So back to the cottage to make use of the lush outdoor hot-tub before being dragged into the neighbour’s place for a pint of Rum ‘N’ Egg Nog. They’re a great bunch and we caught them in the middle of some drama as their other neighbours had just been dragged to hospital as one half of the lesbian couple was about to give birth. It’s very cosmopolitan here in Asheville don’t you know. Their eldest daughter made me laugh with her exclamation that “it’s difficult for me to get excited about Christmas any more”. She’s 14 people!

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur but it involved getting home, drinking fairly heavily, having a magnificent platter of meats, cheeses and pate courtesy of Kate then passing out in front of the telly. I’m not sure Jesus would approve of the way we celebrated his birthday but we had a fine Christmas day nevertheless.

Day 50 - Tennessee Surprise

From – Roanoke (Virginia)
To – Asheville (North Carolina)
Via – Tennessee…apparently
Miles Driven – 260 (that’s two days in a row)

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611544101197/

Another driving day today although not quite like we originally planned. Firstly we had thought that we would finish the remaining few hundred miles along the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway but a quick conference followed by a unanimous vote concluded that we would rather be in Asheville by lunch in order to shop for provisions for the following three days rather than spend seven hours on more winding roads. It may sound like a travesty to chose highway over this incredible scenery but we have to prioritise when faced with a deadline and we, unsurprisingly, chose food and relaxation.

So after skipping the morning shower with water that looked like it was fresh from the Ganges, we hit the road at a needlessly early 6:45am and had managed to knock off a good bit of the drive before being awake enough to realize that hunger was knocking at the door. Our chosen stop was the Omelet Shope. Well, I say “our” but Kate doesn’t like omelets (apparently the texture freaks her out) so I joined the throng of truckers with some magnificent beards on display to order my ham and cheese variety which was pretty outstanding.

With a contented belly, we got back on the road for the remainder of the drive which we thought would be a fairly uneventful blast from Virginia to North Carolina. Oh how wrong we were. You know sometimes you check the pockets of your jeans before you put them in the washing machine and you find some cash in there and it’s a nice surprise, right? Well I can report that it’s a similar feeling when you come across a surprise state, a fact we discovered when confronted with an unexpected “Welcome to Tennessee” sign. We weren’t lost – we just didn’t know that we’d be grazing the north eastern tip of the state so, knowing that we were only an hour from Asheville, we had a limited amount of time to be Tennesseean. Hence, on went the country music radio (I think the choices in Tennessee are Country Music Radio or Bible Radio) and much yee-hawing occurred. Good times people, good times.

Our cottage on the outskirts of Asheville is to be our home for the next six nights so it is a bit more important than usual that the place is nice. The pictures on the web made it look nice but I’ve been duped by touched up, unrealistic pictures before so I usually arrive at these place with a bit of trepidation. There was no need for that with Bull Creek Cottage though as we pulled up and was greeted by Pam (our temporary landlady) who heard we were about to arrive and had lit us a fire. The place is the perfect balance of modern and traditional and I would happily never leave. It overlooks a acres of greenery with a creek separating us from the neighbours. Molly seems to be getting on well with the local dogs and we can leave her out there wrestling for hours without fear that she’ll run away. She seems to have developed a special relationship with a suave young gentleman dog called Miles (de ja vue anyone from the FCI?) so stay tuned for updates with that particular love trist.

So given our incredible surroundings and Kate’s lingering illness, we stocked up on supplies and took advantage of our first kitchen since Thanksgiving. I did warn you that this would lead to some self congratulatory food blogs but the food I cooked last night was the finest meal I have had in quite a while. We had a couple of super-thick, juicy pork chops with mashed potatoes, bok choy and a creamy jalapeno accented sauce. Good god it was good. Kate immediately entered food coma but I managed to pour a frightening amount of wine down my neck (I don’t want to declare how much but it was probably enough to sedate a baby elephant) before entering a real coma. I think I was trying to relive days gone by when, by about this time on Christmas Eve I would be embarrassingly drunk in some nasty club trying to talk to anyone that would stay still long enough to listen to me. Feeble but true.

Christmas day tomorrow but I’m not expecting much as I haven’t been particularly good this year.

Day 49 - This is Not My First El Rodeo

From – Reston (on the outskirts of Washington DC)
To – Roanoke (Virginia)
Via – Front Royal (VA)
Miles Driven – 260 ish
Highway Miles – 50
Winding, Stomach Churning, Safety Barrier Free Mountain Roads - 210

Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611572028756/

Today was all about getting south as we need to be in Asheville, North Carolina (500 miles from Washington) by Christmas Eve but that doesn’t have to be a hardship when the trusty Scenic Drives of America book suggests that the roads running parallel to the more obvious highway route are two of the most spectacular drives that this apple pie loving country has to offer…and you know we can’t resist a scenic drive. So after 50 regular and unspectacular westbound highway miles we got to Front Royal which signified the northern tip of Shanandoah National Park and the beginning of the 105 mile Skyline Drive. At the park’s toll gate we encountered the world’s friendliest and beardiest park ranger who informed us that the first 25 miles of the drive was shut due to icy roads and fallen trees (this is real nature people). Still, the next 80 miles were all open and completely spectacular. Check out the photos for better visual descriptions than I could ever put on paper but generally we were treated to a different vista after every conquered ascent. The rolling, forest covered hills with the occasional lake or rock face thrown in were a constant backdrop but the most incredible sights had legs. For better or worse, the white-tailed dear were fearless and totally unfazed by passing motorists. One looked like it was about to get in our car as we stopped to take a photo or twelve whilst another put on what looked like a dear rendition of the can-can for us. We also managed to spy a bobcat but it made too quick an escape for us to capture on camera. The strangest wildlife we saw were two dogs running towards us in the road with bells and radio receivers round their necks. Exactly what their purpose was (other than being imminent bumper testers) I have no idea so if anyone knows then feel free to let us know.

The Skyline Drive criss-crosses the Appellation Trail which, in case you haven’t heard of it, is a 2000+ mile hike (yes, that’s over two thousand miles) from Georgia to Maine. I have become mildly obsessed with this incredible hike – not necessarily to the point where I want to do it (although never say never) but I am totally in awe of anyone who has and I can’t quite get my head around the logistics of how you would go about doing something like that. I later read all about it on their web-site and apparently it takes 6 months to complete and the success rate is just 20% with about 2500 people attempting it each year. My favourite stat is that 10% of people drop out when they hit the first town just 20 miles into the walk! Still, I took this as an opportunity to walk a 1.2 mile stretch of the trail with Molly (Kate is still sounding like a 60-a-day smoker so she drove) which means that I have now completed 0.06% of the trail. Apparently that isn’t enough to earn a certificate, badge or t-shirt.

The link between the Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway is seamless which was a bit of a bugger as we were hoping for a food stop. Still, the views continued to be nice enough for us not to care. Having said that, when Kate offered me a bit of her cereal bar that she had been hoarding, I nearly bit her hand off and then bit her head off. So the Blue Ridge Parkway is over 450 miles of similar terrain to the Skyline Drive, the only difference being that the southern drawl is even more pronounced down here. On that note, it is amazing how quickly the accent has changed. It seems like such a short distance between ordering kwarffee (that’s supposed to be a Yankee ordering coffee) to hearing “have a nice day, y’all”. I digress. Again, you’ll have to check the pictures to get a hint of the beauty of this place but by 4pm the sun was setting and we had managed another 110 miles of bendy roads before hitting both Roanoke and our driving limit.

Having bigged up the virtues of the Days Inn, I was pleased to see that Roanoke (a pretty town with an almost Dickensian town square) had one on the outskirts of its town centre so I could introduce Kate to their bargain brand of comfort. My worry was, however, that I had built it up into something that simply wasn’t attainable. There was no need to worry though as unfortunately this particular Days Inn didn’t even try. It was nasty. I’m not sure if we were supposed to pay extra to get a room without brown water but, given my previous rant about price bands, I should have found somewhere asking more than $55 per night.

The plan was to hit the road at dawn tomorrow so dinner was to be a quick affair. After a short drive back out of town we spied El Rodeo (not surprisingly a Mexican restaurant) which Kate accurately pointed out looked perfect for a Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares episode. I have an unusually strong and negative opinion about the usual Mexican pap served in restaurants as the menu is basically the same dish served seven different ways with the only difference being whether the taco is soft or hard. I’m sure that there is fine Mexican food (it’s one of the most ancient civilizations on earth – they must have figured out some decent nosh by now) but I haven’t found it yet. So, unsurprisingly, the food at El Rodeo was pretty lousy (although I could have drunk the salsa by the pint…with vodka ideally) but what made the meal memorable was our waiter. He was super-chatty which I am usually a big fan of but this guy was basically a pain in the ass and talked total drivel throughout. On the plus side, he asked me for ID when I ordered a beer which means he thought there’s a possibility I’m not yet 21. Awesome.

260 more miles to Asheville tomorrow which will be our camp for Christmas. In fact, we’re there for six nights and there’s a kitchen so expect some self-congratulatory food reports in the coming blogs…

Day 48 – Return of The Wife

From – Fredericksburg (VA)
To – Washington (DC)
Miles Driven – 50

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611571560832/

What a roller coaster of a day. I woke up to an incredible blue sky, glorious sunshine, the prospect of a day at the Air & Space Museum and the knowledge that tonight’s hotel was already booked and leagues nicer than anything I had stayed in for the previous week. And then the wife arrived in town with a highly contagious virus, gallons of mucus escaping from every facial cavity and the predictable jet-lag. I’m being harsh, of course, and I wouldn’t say this to her face but I guess it’s good to have her back. If nothing else, I’ve got someone else to help with the bags and to write the occasional blog entry…

T minus 9 hours Until The Return of the Barrel of Snot. With the full day to play with before I donned the cap for limo duty, I enjoyed a glorious drive back to DC before hitting the Air & Space museum which we were too lazy to do when we were last here a week ago. To give you an idea of the amount of stuff in this place, in addition to the main museum in the centre of the city, there’s an overspill museum near the airport that contains a space shuttle and one of the Concorde planes. That’s quite a junk garage, no? I’m going to find this hard to explain, but for some reason I was a bit let down by the museum and, having given it some deep thought, I’ve realized it’s because it only contained aircraft and spaceships and I’m not actually that interested in either. So it’s not the museum’s fault – it was me not really knowing myself. Anyway, highlights were the Apollo 11 command module, the Breitling round the world balloon, an original Wright Brothers plane (it went 852 feet in 59 seconds, in case you were asking), The Spirit of Texas helicopter that went around the world in 30 days but with loads of refueling stops (I don’t really see what’s impressive about this one) and a lunar rover. It’s probably pant filling stuff if that’s your bag but give me two quadratic equations and a bottle of wine any day.

T Minus 4 Hours Until The Mucus Tidal Wave Lands. The Sheraton I’m in (in Reston, 5 miles from the airport, right next to Vienna which is lovely) has a gym so, given that drinking to excess before picking Kate up would probably not go down well, I decided to check it out. I can report that the gym is very nice (well stocked, nice view, plenty of machines), but I can give a more detailed, first hand description of the jalapeño burger from the Chili’s which is next to the hotel. To hell with exercise, I’m just going to move to Arabia after this trip where fat men are rightfully revered and respected.

There was no delaying it anymore – my final moments of freedom were ebbing away at the same speed that time flies by when faced with an impending dentist appointment. A check of the BA web-site reported that the flight was a bit early so the welcoming party (myself and a confused Molly) headed to Dulles’ Cell Phone Waiting Area which must have been designed by a Northern Englishman as it doesn’t involve paying parking fees. Despite being upgraded to Business Class on the way home, Kate was a heady mix of ill and tired. Add to this the need for an early morning the next day because we have nearly 500 miles of windy mountain roads to get to Asheville in time for Christmas and you’ll understand why, by 10pm, our room was filled with the sound of snoring.

Day 47 - Bridget Turns The Big 5000

From – Richmond (VA)
To – Fredericksburg (VA)
Miles Driven - 50

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611419260555/

I love stats, so here’s a few for you that helps put our progress into context. So far we have traveled a spit over 5000 miles since leaving New York just over 6 ½ weeks ago. Now if we would have driven in a straight line south (and the car could drive on water) then we would be in Rio de Janeiro by now. If we would have gone east then we would be just shy of Moscow; West then we’d be in the middle of the Pacific; North then we would have frozen to death. As such, the fact that we are only 279 south of New York is actually a bit worrying. Perhaps our initial estimate of 6 months for this trip was a bit low because if it takes us 47 days to go a net 279 miles then it should take us 1 year and 4 months to drive to San Diego (the very south western tip of North America) and that assumes we’ll be going in a straight line (which we’re not). Of course this is a distorted view of the trip as we have managed to visit 13 of the 50 states already so if that rate continues, and we visit every state (which is unlikely) then, spookily, the trip should last exactly 6 months. I would also conservatively estimate that we are walking about 4 miles every day so if the trip does take 6 months then we’ll have walked 730 miles by the end which, if Kate, Molly and I did in relay would stretch from New York to Aspen, Colorado.

What’s my point? Well I haven’t got one but that did allow me to dabble in Excel which I find strangely exciting and anyone who has ever worked with me will know that the spreadsheet I created was incredibly neat and caked in pastel shading.

Anyway, Day 47. What happened today? Drove to Fredericksburg which is beautiful, quaint, friendly and closed on Sundays. Walked from my hotel into town which is 3 miles, of which 1 is highway and hence we were dodging articulated lorries for a while. Had some lunch from Caroline Street Café (grilled panini of salami, turkey, havarti and mustard…yum), ate it on a bench and realized that I have 24 hours before Kate returns so it’s about time I thought about buying her a Christmas pressie. She says that I don’t need to get her anything as she bought some shoes whilst in England which I’ll be funding but if there’s nothing to unwrap on Christmas day then clearly the bottom lip will be quivering. The trouble is, everything was closed in the village (the residents are probably at carol practice or something equally twee) so I had to hit the Central Park Mega-Mall Complex in the evening. Local shop owners are pretty vocal with their moaning when suburban mega-malls open but the fact of the matter is that if the mom ‘n’ pop stores aren’t open when unorganized husbands need nik-naks then they’re going to lose out.

Now obviously I can’t tell you where I went and what I bought (although I can report that I am quite proud of my surprisingly thoughtful gifts) but it was interesting to note the air of calm in the shops, despite being the last non-business shopping evening before the big event. Despite the ease of the trip, it still took me about 3 hours because of how far apart each shop is, even within the same shopping complex. As it marched on so late, rather than hit a local eatery, I got something microwaveable, a bottle of red (my first drink in three days!) and I’m settled in the room for a night of wrapping, eating, drinking and watching the Norleans Bowl (whatever the chuff that is).

Back to DC tomorrow to pick up the missus (assuming she comes back – I’m happy to offer odds for those interested in a wager) and see the Air & Space museum that I missed out on first time round. Marvelous.

Day 46 - Now't Much Really

From – Virginia Beach (VA)
To – Richmond (VA – it’s the capital don’t you know)
Via - Newport News (it's a place, not a shop)

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611491521464/

Like an old person, I have decided to spread the 150 mile drive back to Washington over three days. I’m pretty sure that Ian Botham could walk the distance quicker but I don’t need to be there ‘til Monday and there seems to be a couple of places worth a visit on the way so why not. Now some days I sit down to write this thing, look back through the photos (my memory isn’t what it was) and feel quite intimidated at the amount of stuff I want to cover. Today is not that sort of day. Due to a combination of lethargy/laziness, crappy weather and mild intimidation, I didn’t really do much worth commenting on. But that’s not going to stop me…

Let’s see. Woke up in Virginia Beach and went for one last nostalgic walk along the seafront. I even took final photos from the balcony of the room like I had stayed there a month. Hit the road with the usual tactic of stopping if something took my fancy. As it turns out, there were quite a few things that stood out but none that could be easily visited with a dog. There were several NASA signs but I haven’t been able to work out exactly what it was. There’s an Air & Space Centre in Langley, VA but that’s no where near where I was. Shame as Molly has always harbored ambitions of following in Laika’s paw-prints as being an AstroDog. The other thing of note was Colonial Williamsburg – the mother of all reenactment villages. After the fun and games we had in Plymouth Plantation (“most banal question”, “least relevant question” and “most questions” competitions), I would have been all over visiting here if my professional tourist partner was around but, alas, I fear that reenactment villages will have to join Hooters on the list of places that you just can’t go to alone.

My cheap hotel/motel experiment is still ongoing whilst I am on my own so today’s trial was an EconoLodge. I’ll not drag this out – it’s pretty nasty…but only $50 a night. The conclusion I’m coming to with the hotel/motel experiment is that the brand is pretty irrelevant, the quality of the room is almost always perfectly correlated to the cost. The old “you get what you pay for” seems perfectly applicable to the budget hotel world. As a rule, $50 per night gets you a real no frills place with the possibility of wallpaper peeling away at the edges, a bathroom that you wouldn’t want to linger in and I wouldn’t recommend looking down the back of cupboards as they won’t have been cleaned since the end of the Civil War. $70 is usually a pretty comfortable and clean room with a free continental breakfast (i.e. a bunch of bagels next to a toaster) but lacking in space. $90 is about the maximum you can spend on a budget hotel (unless it’s in a big city or next to a big airport) which seems like The Ritz after a few $50 places. Big, clean rooms; staff that aren’t looking at you like they would like to kill you; confidence that the bathrooms don’t contain wildlife and less need to look through the spy-glass when leaving the room to ensure no-one is waiting outside with an anvil. La Quinta is my favourite $90 place, Days Inn is my favourite $70 place and Days Inn wins again in the $50 category. Eating America – Experimenting With Disgusting Hotels So You Don’t Have To…

My hotel was about 4 miles from downtown Richmond so I decided to walk Molly there but, about 300 yards into the walk, I figured that the odds of me getting mugged were high enough make me turn back…sharpish. Whilst the majority of Richmond actually seems pretty nice (Monument Avenue has some seriously nice houses), the bit around my hotel is seriously run down. So we turned it into a driving tour. First stop, the aforementioned Monument Avenue which contains statues of the major Southern heroes from the Civil War (there were plenty of battles around this area) and…wait for it…Arthur Ashe! Apparently the erection of his statue was controversial because a) it’s hardly in-keeping with the war hero theme and b) allegedly he hated his home town. A nice enough time to drive round but the find of the day was Billy’s BBQ – a stand alone institution. No ribs or brisket here, just minced beef or minced pork sandwiches served in a soft roll with ‘slaw and a little pot of vinegary bbq sauce. Obviously when faced with the beef or pork decision, I chose both (they were pretty small and just $3 each) and they were both mighty fine.

Given my general lethargy, the easy thing to do in the evening was to go to the movies. Went to see 007 in the Quantum of Solace which wasn’t bad. There were a few murmurings in the crowd at the numerous anti-American comments that M made which made me giggle but nothing interesting beyond that.

Wow, how did I manage to string out such an uneventful day for so long? Stay tuned for more lengthy drivel tomorrow as I head to Fredericksburg and buy a coffee.

Day 45 – Man of Steel & Killer Seafood

Scribe – Grant
Based In – Virginia Beach / Blackpool (Virginia)

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611427397018/

I woke up feeling distinctly weird this morning. No headache. Only averagely appalling breath. The alarm hadn’t yet gone off. Still hours to go before breakfast finishes. Could this be what it’s like to wake up not having drunk the night before? I don’t like it. Given these unbelievable circumstances, I wanted to take full advantage and went about planning a day that would make Lance Armstrong look like a couch potato.

First up, the obligatory dog walk. First Landing State Park (has a day gone by without a visit to a state park?) is just a few miles down the road and a quick scan of their web site showed a sack full of hiking trails but none beyond 3 miles. However, my computer like brain quickly pulled together an ingenious combination of 5 trails resulting in a 7 mile walk worthy of our new-found energy. The bad news, I didn’t have access to a printer so I had to rely on a home-made sketch of the trails to navigate my way round. Now whilst God/Buddha/Vishnu blessed me with a brain capable of amalgamating hiking trails (not to mention this incredible body), he/she was having a laugh when he/she portioned out my artistic ability and, in summary, it is a Christmas miracle that I am back at my hotel and able to type up this blog without the assistance of the emergency services. Still, maybe I am doing myself a disservice as I either didn’t get lost once or I got lost so many times that it all balanced itself out.

The walk, however, wasn’t without incident. For a start, Molly had an evil glint in her eye that makes me want to half-volley her back to the Singapore Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. You don’t need all the details but her evil routine starts with completely ignoring any suggestions to stay within visible distance and ends by rolling round in shit…and today was no different. The look of unadulterated pleasure on her face as she writhes around in fecal matter never ceases to amaze me. Maybe I’m missing a trick? Maybe not. The other incident was less stomach churning but no less annoying. One of the trails I went on is shared with a biking trail and I was passed, unannounced, by a floppy haired youth at what seemed like a gazillion miles an hour. The problem was, my brain misread the situation and I honestly thought I was being charged by a bear, despite being literally hundreds of miles from any bear inhabited areas. Net result, every square inch of air in my body left through my mouth and I let out a grunt that nearly forced the cyclist to fall off…but unfortunately he didn’t. It’s good to know that, if I was attacked by a bear, I would be completely useless. Sorry Kate, you’d have to be the man and wrestle it whilst I curled up in a fetal position and shivered uncontrollably.

Next in the exercise-a-thon (after bathing the shitty dog) was cycling. Four miles back to the state park, ten miles off-road in the park and another four miles home. I haven’t done much cycling on anything other than concrete and I have to say that the park based riding was an unexpected pleasure. It wasn’t particularly undulating but the various contrasting surfaces (rock, sand, leaves and mud…lots of mud) made it really interesting and, despite several wobbles, I managed to stay upright throughout. Good job considering the health insurance doesn’t kick in for another 13 days. Really good fun but I was, as they say in the sporting world, properly knackered by this point. And covered in some fairly foul smelling bog mud. Close enough to fecal matter to realize that it’s not for me.

After a much needed clean up and well deserved lie-down, the final round of the exercise sandwich was another long walk with the pup. Despite having driven Virginia Beach’s strip numerous times, I hadn’t walked it. So we did. It was a bit of a weird walk as there are Christmas tunes blaring from the lampposts yet very few people to hear it. There’s a street called 23 ½ Street (presumably where Harry Potter stays when he vacations here) and sporadic signs that indicate swearing is banned. I’m not sure if it’s OK to scream obscenities outside the range of these signs but I’m not going to test the theory.

All this work deserved a decent meal and I’m pleased to say it got an awesome one. My meanderings discovered that the only two places that consistently contained a decent throng of people were, conveniently, an easy walk from my hotel. The closest place, Harpoon Larry’s, advertised “killer seafood” (a risky description) and delivered (in a good way) in spades. The place resembles a dive bar and allows smoking which, in this day and age, just seems plain weird. Now I have officially stopped smoking but I was very happy to suck on the second hand smoke. Just to add to the feel good factor, the place served my favourite beer (Magic Hat Number 9) and the staff were super friendly. I ordered the crab soup to start (which I am slowly becoming addicted to) and it was extraordinary despite being having a loser consistency than I would have liked. Next up what the “Not So Huge Combo” which is a smaller version of the “Killer Combo” that comes on a plate resembling a satellite dish. Mine had two oysters, two clams, three mussels, three Cajun shrimp, three crawfish and ¼ lb snow crab legs. Everything was steamed (I would have preferred the oysters and clams raw but no substitutions allowed) and it was probably the nicest plate of shellfish I have ever had the pleasure of gnawing on. And it was just $11. Crazy. 30 minutes later I had a lovely, satiated glow about me whilst was wiping fish juice off my elbows and considering myself a very happy camper. Sorry about the lack of photos but, as happy as I am dining alone, I refuse to be that guy that sits alone AND takes photos of his food. It just wasn’t that sort of place.

I contemplated more beers in the other inhabited place in Virginia Beach (CP Shuckers, looks good) but thought I would get back to keep Molster company. And not a moment too soon as she was being terrorized by a fly. She would be even less use than me in the event of a bear attack.

Leaving Virginia Beach tomorrow to head back north towards Washington DC. Kate arrives back in a couple of days and I’m pretty sure it would be inexcusable not to at least be in the same city. See, I’m not THAT bad a husband.

Day 44 - You Can Take The Boy Out Of Blackpool...

Scribe - Grant

From - Lewes (Delaware)

To - Virginia Beach (duh, Virginia)

Via - Ocean City, Berlin, Snow Hill and Cape George

Miles Driven - 178 (that's alot for an old boy like me)

Brain Mode - Off

Today's Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611330402075/

7am start today and, because the day was likely to contain a fair amount of driving, Molly needs a good hour walk before I eat a healthy breakfast, make a large charitable donation to Toys for Tots, pack up the car and hit the open road by 9am. Well, that was the plan (except the charitable donation, of course) but unfortunately I woke up face down on a slightly drool-dampened pillow at 9:30 with two invisible midgets driving nails into my head. It’s fun to try lots of different beers in one night but there is a clear downside. Now it’s interesting that my inner alarm woke me at 9:30 which is the usual breakfast cut-off time but, unless I wanted to lick the damp mold on the ceiling of the bathroom, this particular motel had no such luxury on offer so the first stop of the day had to be at the very first sign of food down the road. The first food sign, however, was a big yellow capital M. Don’t judge me, I was hungover…

I had no clear plan today other than to head further south and stop whenever something looked interesting enough to warrant getting my drowsy fat ass out of the car. To be totally honest, I was incredibly happy to drift along the winding roads of Delmarva at 55mph with my brain officially on standby listening to the complete drivel chat on National Public Radio. I could listen to this pap for hours – the more hideously biased the conversation, the better. Today’s route took in a few seriously contrasting towns. First on the radar (after trying and failing to visit a closed state park) was Ocean City which seems to be an eight mile strip of hotels, burger joints and mini-golf courses (there had to be at least a dozen – I’m sure Team USA will be petitioning the IOC to include it in London 2012 games) all on a long thin island with beaches either side. All good in theory and I hear it gets heaving in the summer (especially over the “legendary” Spring Break) but out of season it just looks like a concrete jungle that is showing some serious signs of ageing. In total contrast, the next two stops were Berlin (booo) and Snow Hill (aaah) which were both cuter than *insert your own cute image here* - may I suggest a puppy with bows on for the girls and an Asian hooker for the boys. Cape George was next, not because it was particularly nice but because both Molly and I needed bowel movements…too much information, I know. Still, it did have a few signs up explaining that the whole Chesapeake Bay area was the result of an impact from a 2 mile wide meteor…a while ago. Sorry not to be more specific but you may be learning that history isn’t my strong point. I’d like to claim that it’s because I’m the kind of guy that lives for today etc but the reality is that I only have a small brain and it is already full with Roxette lyrics. Also well worth a mention is the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel which connects Delmarva to mainland Virginia. It’s over 20 miles long, cost $450m and, as you drive it, goes bridge, tunnel, bridge, tunnel, bridge. It might seem like they were messing about but the two tunnel parts are to allow boats through – clever, eh? Well I thought so.

Now it has really amuses me that, left completely to my own devises, I have ended up in Virginia Beach. It’s a seasonal sea-side resort that’s tries to attract family but actually only attracts drinkers. Most people who live here whine relentlessly that business isn’t as good as last year. The weather is a bit iffy. Have you got it yet? Final clue, there are illuminations! That’s right, it’s the American Blackpool (my home town back in Blighty)! My brain was still off when I arrived so, despite the literally hundreds of hotels on offer here, I headed for the familiar glow of the Days Inn sign to camp for the night. And would you believe it, my $60 room (very nice by the way, sea view with balcony) came with a free ticket for the Christmas light drive through (a frightening $10 value that I would most certainly not have paid - free is my fave price you know). The route is along the normally pedestrian-only “boardwalk” (which is actually concrete) and they are everything you would expect from a Christmas light display…well, except for the huge “God Bless America” tabloid. It was pretty well done but my favourite parts were the dancing Christmas tree which lit up in time to the music on 107.3FM, the dog biscuits they gave me at the start for my date and the Christmas CD that came with the ticket which perfectly matches the light themes as you drive along at 5mh. The 12 Days of Christmas montage towards the end was particularly impressive.

Dinner was a rather fine in-room pizza from the joint across the road. I think this isn’t going to be a very foody blog whilst I’m on my own as I’m less likely to be fine dining. I don’t mind doing the “table for one please” thing but Molly is a bit needy at the moment as she seems to understand that 50% of her parents are absent which is making her a bit more needy and moody than usual…I’m surprised my joyous mood and endless energy isn’t rubbing off on her more…

Staying a second night in Virginia Beach tomorrow as we haven’t had a two night stop anywhere for a while and it’s nice to have a slightly less nomadic day. I might go crazy and unpack a single pair of boxers and put them in a draw. Mental.

Day 43 - Dogfish Danger

From – Easton (Maryland)
To – Lewes (Delaware)
Miles Driven - 59

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157611330346823/

Molly hit a new pinnacle of annoyingness overnight as her ability to take up over 80% of a bed continues to stagger me. It may seem a bit weird that I am sleeping with a K9 but please don’t think for a second that she is one of those needy dogs that constantly needs human companionship – she just wants something comfier than the floor to sleep on and, if she could speak, I’m sure she would confirm that she finds my presence in the bed just as annoying as I find hers. As such, I think we both woke up a little cranky on day 43 and hence we breakfasted separately. I went for the Days Inn deluxe continental breakfast whilst she had reconstituted unidentifiable grade 4 beef parts in gravy – each to their own I guess.

Anyway, today was just a short drive from Easton which is confusingly on the western coast of Delmarva (the nickname for the peninsula containing bits of Delaware, Maryland and Virginia – see what they have done there…) to Lewes (pronounced Lewis) on the eastern coast. It was an uneventful yet very pretty drive through vast flat fields that I later found out mainly grown legumes – not a particularly interesting fact but hopefully it will give you some idea just how uneventful the drive was. I did giggle when we passed through the town of Preston which, it would appear, is twinned with it’s namesake back home in Lancashire because this one was also a dump and the look in the resident’s eyes indicated a lack of will to live. And if any of the Prestonites in my family or circle of friends try to dispute this description then can I pre-emptively remind then that none of them actually live there anymore…

Lewes seems like a nice town; part eternal strip mall, part sea-side resort but it has the big advantage of being located right next to Cape Henlopen State Park – good news for travellers with hyperactive pooches. And so it was there I headed to roll out the usual tactic of trying to get the dog knackered before I abandon her for a night on the tiles. Little did I know that finding somewhere to walk her in a park that advertises “more than 4000 acres of dune bluffs, pine forests and wetlands” and being “pet-friendly” would be so damn tough. This lot are a seriously dogist and if you don’t think that’s a real word then you are dogist too – ignorance is no defence people. Almost every trail or beach had a no dogs sign and when I did find a huge sprawling beach that she was allowed on, it was with the proviso that she had to stay on a leash no longer than 6 feet. Now bare in mind that I did not see another human in about 4 miles of walking, doesn’t this seem a bit mental? Actually that’s a lie – I did see another human as a park inspector was on patrol on the beach but luckily I plenty of warning to get Molly back on the lead as his 4x4 coming over the horizon was the only thing visible in a 25 mile radius. The only other sign of human presence in the park were three surfers who were clearly mentally deranged given the freezing temperatures and just thinking about them turns me anatomically female. There’s also a 4 mile bike track that I went back and ran round later that afternoon – you know, cos I’m part man, part machine. Grrr.

As fun as my temporarily sad single existence is, I actually knew a couple of people that were going to be in Lewes that I could gatecrash on for the night and it turns out they were as eager to get away from their parents / in-laws as I was to have conversation with someone who isn’t covered in fir. Jaff can be officially categorised as my old chef instructor from the FCI but unofficially he falls into the drinking buddy box. His wife, Denny (I hope I spelt that right) is far too nice for him and her friend, Chrissie (who arrived with cookies…what a magnificent entrance!), also came out…think of it as charity work on her behalf to avoid me looking like a sad gooseberry. The chosen venue was Dogfish Head Brewings & Eats which is the other side of the State Park from Lewes and is the original site of the Dogfish brewery which I have sipped on many a time in the past. As you would expect, they have an extensive selection of their beers on draft which means the night was going to get messy even before it began. Even my fish was battered in a dogfish beer batter – I didn’t really stand a chance. Between us I think we drank most of the beers on offer, from Arms Akimbo to something that had a nose of asscheese, whatever that is…ask Denny. I liked their IPAs which come in a choice of 60, 90 or 120 minutes. Apparently the minutes relate to the amount of time the beer was “boiled and hopped” and the more it was boiled, the more it will screw you up. The three designations were 6%, 9% and 18% respectively. The 60 minute makes you think you’re attractive, the 90 minute makes you think you can dance and the 120 minutes make you think you’re the president of a medium sized African nation. There was another bar, more cookies and a whole heap of nonsense chat (I think I may have signed a movie deal for the blog and Denny has already done much of the casting work) – my idea of a great night quite frankly.

Back on the road tomorrow (with a headache no doubt) to hit some quaint towns and continue the Delmarva tour.