Emilie Vardaman

Lake Lure Flowering Bridge

When I was visiting Carol and Aurora in North Carolina, they took me to a flowering bridge. I’d expected it to be like the one I visited in Shelburne Falls, Massachusetts.

I was wrong.

The bridge in Massachusetts is a footbridge. The one we visited in Lake Lure was a two-lane bridge that had been driven over for many years. When a new, nearby route was established, the community created this beautiful walking bridge on the old road.

The bridge is divided into separate planting areas, each one distinctive and independent of the others. Blocks painted as books are throughout the garden, each title reflecting the type garden it sits in.

Here are random photos.

And the most moving part of the garden was that dedicated to the wonderful doggies we’ve lost. The section was called the the Dog Garden, and to get there, we walked across the Rainbow Bridge. Grab your tissues.

If I’d known about this special garden before I left home, I’d have brought Chloe’s collar.

Some have left their dog’s favorite toy.

I definitely spilled a number of tears while walking through this section.

After we’d visited the whole garden, I sat awhile and reviewed my photos.

More to come one of these days when I get to it. I’m too busy having fun!

Louisiana to Mississippi

It was in Louisiana that I drove on the interstate the first time.

It was the most direct route to Lake Charles, where I’d planned to stop for my first official beignet treat. Also, I wanted a big state map, and picking one up at the welcome center seemed a good way to get one. Bonus? Beautiful grounds, and a safe, secure place to spend a night.

I headed out in the morning before dawn to be at Stellar Beans Coffeehouse shortly after opening. It was a good stop in that I met a few locals and spent time in great conversation. But I was disappointed in the beignets. I’d looked forward to them so much, but they were a bit heavy and doughy.

So on to Lafayette via back roads.

Rice paddy between Lake Charles and Lafayette

In Lafayette I’d have my first on-the-road housesit.

I got to my housesit right on time and was happily welcomed by the hosts. The cats weren’t exstatic, but they accepted me, and by the end of the sit, they were quite friendly. I also became friendly with the next door neighbor and donated one of my books to the Shelly Drive Little Free Library.

Cool weather and rain greeted me. Unfortunately, the cool weather stayed the whole time I was there.

While in Lafayette, I dropped down to Broussard to attend part of the Lao New Year Festival.

Bitty and Beau’s Coffee

I’d spent the night just north of St. Augustine. I wanted to get past Jacksonville near the end of rush hour and thought I’d treat myself to good coffee once I’d made it through the freeway and highway mess. So I looked online for a coffeehouse just beyond the tangle of pavement.

There were several spots toward the north end of the city, but one sounded familiar: Bitty and Beau’s Coffee. Why in the world did I recognize the name of a coffeehouse nearly 2,000 miles from home?

I clicked on the link and remembered exactly why I knew it. It had been on the news numerous times, and for sure I was headed there!

It’s More Than A Cup Of Coffee

Bitty and Beau’s is a special kind of coffeehouse employing special needs people. As a former special ed teacher and someone with special needs people in the family, this place was right up my alley.

I pulled into a spot right in front of the coffeehouse and went inside to order. A young woman, Lexi, took my order and handed me a playing card, the nine of hearts. She said they’d call out that card when my latte was ready.

Lexi was friendly, polite, and full of smiles while she took my order. She said she loves working there and had been working there since it opend in November of 2022.

Another employee, Andrew, has also been there since the coffeehouse opened. He says likes marking prices on the goods for sale and he also likes that he gets a lot of steps in his day.

I spoke to Lissie Hurst, the owner and manager. Lissie got involved because she’s a former special ed teacher and has an autistic son. She was delighted when she learned she could get a Bitty and Beau’s francishe. She knew it would be a perfect place for her son to have a job.

Lissie makes sure Andrew chooses the correct flavor to add to a coffee drink.

Lissie told me Lexi remembers all the reguals. She can call them by name and even remembers the drinks they order, which is better than I could do.

Soon a third employee came in. Raymond had just visited his brother in Colorado and was proud that he’d flown alone for the first time. He happily showed Lexi and Andrew some photos he’d taken.

Andrew and Lexi check out Raymond’s photos.

Before I left, I put a pin on the map to indicate someone from Naco, Arizona, had visited the shop. Pins show there have been visitors from every US state plus Canada, Mexico, and countries in Central and South America as well as Europe.

Yellow pins indicate locations of Bitty and Beau’s coffeehouses.

After I’d finished my latte, which was very good, and finished chatting with the employees, I headed on north.

A week later in Savannah, I stopped at another Bitty and Beau’s. Jeff Sanders is the manager and has been with the company for just a month and a half. Emelda has been there since it opened in 2019 and says she’s the one who trained Jeff.

Jeff’s another former special ed teacher who got frustrated that his students aged out of high school and there were no services or jobs for them. He feels good about his move to manage the Savannah Bitty and Beau’s.

Max has also been at the coffeehouse since it opened, and he confided that he helped train Jeff too. He likes the job because, “It helps people like me.”

The store has fourteen employees including a shift supervisor who has a develpmentally delayed family member.

Jeff said employees here, like the ones in Jacksonville, remembered the names of the regulars as well as their favorite drinks. He said in addition to the regulars, a number of tourists happen to wander in, and hopefully, they leave slightly changed.

He was delighted to tell me that just three weeks previously, two employees had gotten married!

And here, I also added a pin to the map.

Bitty and Beau’s, “A Human Rights Movement Disguised as a Coffeeshop.”

Quick Visual Tour of the State Botanical Gardens of Georgia

I wanted to roam a bit around Athens, Georgia, so I headed to Google looking for free things to do. One of the most highly reocmmended on the ‘to do’ list was a visit to the State Botanical Gardens.

Free? Yes, free!

I headed there, took advantage of my handicapped parking placard, pulled my walker out of the car, and headed in. I also grabbed my rain jacket since fat gray clouds threatened rain.

Free entry, but there was a $2 suggested donation. After dropping a $5 bill into the box, I stepped into the tropical garden greenhouse.

Then I headed to outdoor gradens but immediately fell into a conversation with a mother-daughter duo. The mom kindly offered to take my photo.

To the knot garden and herbal area.

Antique roses.

Cherokee Rose, the state flower of Georgia

To another area.

Prickly Pear and Sotol—I wondered if I’d time traveled back to Arizona!

And back through the greenhouse to leave.

There was much I didn’t see because I simply can’t stand long enough. The walker helped a lot and extended my range, but there was so much more!

I got to my car, stashed my walker, tossed my purse, water bottle and rain jacket in the car, and climbed in. As I reached my arm out to close the door, the threatened rains began.

Excellent timing!

Quick Visual Tour of the State Botanical Gardens of Georgia

Free? Yes, free!

I headed there, took advantage of my handicapped parking placard, pulled my walker out of the car, and headed in. I also grabbed my rain jacket since fat gray clouds threatened rain.

Free entry, but there was a $2 suggested donation. After dropping a $5 bill into the box, I stepped into the tropical garden greenhouse.

Then I headed to outdoor gradens but immediately fell into a conversation with a mother-daughter duo. The mom kindly offered to take my photo.

To the knot garden and herbal area.

Antique roses.

To another area.

And back through the greenhouse to leave.

There was much I didn’t see because I simply can’t stand long enough. The walker helped a lot and extended my range, but there was so much more!

I got to my car, stashed my walker, tossed my purse, water bottle and rain jacket in the car, and climbed in. As I reached my arm out to close the door, the threatened rains began.

Excellent timing!

Sanderson to Louisiana

I left off when I arrived in Sanderson, Texas. I’m going to just hit some highlights of the next ten days.

I spent the night and got a bit lost in Sonora, Texas, which is hard to do, then romed on up to Leander to visit a friend I hadn’t seen in nearly sixty years. SIXTY! The trip took me through the Hill Country of Texas which was in bluebonnet season.

Then down to Austin where I visited a friend from the mid seventies in Bisbee. I stayed there a few days and enjoyed a lovely visit and great views of Lake Travis.

Then down to the coast. The Gulf.

First to Corpus Cristi where I spent my first night (and only night so far) in a Walmart parking lot. Then to and across Mustang Island and on the ferry to Port Aransas. More coastal driving and a visit to the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge where I SAW A WHOOPING CRANE!!!

I didn’t get a photo, unfortunately.

I’d climbed a lot of stairs to a lovely lookout when the biggest egret in the world flew into the trees. I then realized no egret was that large, and besides, it had black wingtips. This bird was huge!!! I was mystified until I went down the stairs and saw a sign about nesting whooping cranes. That’s what I’d seen! The photo below is a stock photo.

https://kdhnews.com/fort_hood_herald/celebrate-the-winter-migration-of-whooping-cranes-to-the-texas-gulf-coast/article_40a0555a-9433-11ec-9933-7716cf44aa6e.html

Across Galveston Island and the ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula.

Once on the peninsula, I bought a $10 beach permit. It allowed a full week of parking and sleeping on the beach, but my one night there, though beautiful, wasn’t really good. Way too windy.

Luna Azul, my RAV, was rocking and rolling all night. Plus it drizzled and blowing sand stuck to every square inch of my poor car. She was no longer azul (blue). Thankfully, rain over the next day or so rinsed her off.

I spent the next night in a sweet little park outside a small town, again a place on the water—but no blowing sand!

And north.

I visited Port Arthur. The entrance was awful—all refineries.

But I spent some good time in the Museum of the Gulf Coast which is an excellent small museum. Highly recommended!

In addition to information on history and culture, the museum’s second floor was devoted to the musicians and music of the area.

The main reason I stopped was Port Arthur was the home of Janis Joplin.

The best part of the display was a video board that allowed viewers to search musicians and music by decade.

In Port Arthur, I also found a Buddhist Temple …

and a beautiful Virgin of Guadalupe.

From there I headed, unfortunately, to I-10 which was just about the only way to get to Lake Charles where I wanted to spend the night.

More soon!

Marfa to Terlingua—Includes the Big Day! or The Route of Road Repair

I left the Marfa Lights viewing area just at dawn and headed south on Texas 67 toward the border town of Presidio. 67 is a simple country road with windmills scattered on the bases of hillsides. The scenery is beautiful—rolling hills of golds and greens, a lovely twisty road, and mountains as a backdrop in every direction. But not enough pulloffs for viewing and photos.

Two road repair areas held me up briefly, but in all, it was a loverly drive.

For some reason, in my mind Presidio was a little semi-ghost town, maybe a population of a few hundred. I envisioned collapsed roofs and falling-down, crumbled adobe structures.

Imagine my surprise when I found a small bustling town of about 3300 people. I learned there was a coffeehouse in the downtown area and, of course, headed right there.

Town was busy, but the lone coffeehouse was closed. A woman on the street said it was always closed. There went my only chance at a good cup of coffee.

On to Texas 170, the road to Terlingua, a road often called the most scenic in Texas. That claim gets no argument from me.

The views before, after, and in the middle of each curve begged me to shift my eyes from the road. And there must have been at least two hundred curves or twists in the sixty-two mile drive. Google told me it would take about an hour and half. Closer to two and a half for me.

Even the straightaways, which were few and often lasted only about a quarter of a mile, were stunning. But as on other routes, not enough pulloffs, and the those that existed weren’t near the view I’d wanted to capture. Pullovers! I want more pullovers!

Sadly, the several road repair stops never offered much of a view.

The journey took me quite close to the Río Grande, sometimes coming withing about ten feet of the river.

I took it slowly, stopping just to gaze around when I’d (finally) find a pullover. I saw a number of camping areas along the way, some close to the road and others further away. No services, just a place to stop and spend a few days hiking and taking in the beauty.

In a few hours, I reached the town of Lajitas. Once a booming town and location of a major border crossing, when area mines closed, Lajutas dwindled to just four residents by the early 1970s.

That’s when a Houston corporation bought it, restored what buildings it could, and created a golf resort.

Yes, it’s true. In the middle of wild rugged mountains, a small valley on the Río Grande is now a golf resort with a private airport.

Lajitas, Texas: A Big Bend Country Ghost Town (Turned Resort)

The irony of it all is not lost on me. My guess is the resort is filled with people who won’t go to “scary” Mexico, in general support a border wall, and under almost any other circumstances, would never go to a small border town. But they fly in to Lajitas, golf, and spend the winter in a beautiful area with daytime temperatures in the seventies.

And like the rest of this route, there is no border wall. A wall would destroy the wild beauty. As one who lives just a few blocks from a thirty-foot wall, I can’t tell you the delight I found in driving so many border miles of unspoiled, intense beauty.

I reached Terlingua near 1:00 and splurged on lunch at DB’s Rustic Inn BBQ. I then wandered town and found a $2 shower. Wow! I settled myself in the shade of an old porch in the ruins of the Terlingua ghost town to read and write a bit.

I camped in a quiet spot, had some great coffee at Espresso y Poco Mas, and headed for Big Bend.

My senior pass I bought years ago got me into the park free. I didn’t wander but headed right for Boquillas Crossing.

Yay!! Crossing to Mexico by rowboat had been the impetus for this entire trip. I got to Boquillas Crossing and entered the Customs building where a Park Service employee verified that I had a passport. Then, down the path to the river.

To Mexico, where I then rode a burro into town!

I had a nice lunch and returned to the US where I had to go into the Customs building again. A Park Service employee took my passport and held it up to a computer screen where its image was sent to a human somewhere else. The Park Service man returned my card and I approached the screen. A bored, disembodied voice asked if I had anything to declare. When I responded that I didn’t, he sent me on my way.

What a bizarre re-entry to the US!

From there, I searched for a (free) place to spend the night, but everything was either taken or w-a-y down a bumpy dirt road. Spring break. What did I expect?

So I headed out of Big Bend, my mission to cross the Río Grande accomplished, and headed to Sanderson for a visit with another woman who has roamed the country. She landed on my property at the beginning of the Covid shutdown and was basically stuck there for a few months. But at least she had a full van she could stand up in! I’m in my RAV.

An aside: As I sat in the shade in Terlingua Ghost Town and wrote, a couple walked by. The woman waved. Just then her husband got a call and wandered the other direction to talk. The woman and I chatted awhile, exchanging bits of info.

We found we were on a similar route. I then mentioned I was from Bisbee. “Bisbee! We were there a few weeks ago for the Vulture Festival!”

I told her I’d been there also. We laughed and kept chatting. She said they were headed to Big Bend next and planned to take the little rowboat across the Río Grande the next day. I laughed again and told her I had plans to do the same thing.

And guess who I ran into in Boquillas the next day! By the time we’d talked in Boquillas, I had an invitation to their home in northern New York. And then we found we were both headed to Texas Hill Country! And we laughed again realizing they live just a few blocks from the northern border while I live a few blocks from the southern.

To finish, here’s the hardware store in Sanderson.

More soon!

Marfa and Alpine, Texas

I didn’t reach Alpine and Marfa until my third day of travel even though I could have easily made it in under eight hours. This trip is much about leisure, so much leisure that the one-hour trip between Van Horn and Marfa took me nearly three hours.

I left the Van Horn area at dawn and cruised slowy down Texas Highway 90 to Marfa.

Whoever is promoting Marfa has done a fine job, because the first references to were about thirty-five miles north of the town. That’s where I found Prada Marfa, a sculpture created in 2005. There are even some Prada shoes and purses inside the little building.

Then another twenty or so miles down the road, I found the next Marfa sculpture.

The diorama came complete with music seeming to emanate almost from the car.

Then about seven miles before town, there was a big “Welcome to Marfa” sign.

And finally the town, about 1800 people if you ask Google, or about 1500 if you ask the locals.

But I continued to Alpine, another twenty-five miles east.

I wanted to see Alpine because I’d been there once before, maybe twelve or fifteen years ago, on a train trip from Arizona to New Orleans. What I remembered about the town was the train stopping and Border Patrol agents having everyone get off while they searched the train.

Alpine is a sweet little town filled with artist’s studios, cafes, and murals and more murals. It has a population of fewer than 6000 people, but there are probably close to fifty murals! The last count was forty-four, but the woman at the welcome center said she knew more had been added since the mural map had been made.

Map in hand, I roamed town a bit looking at murals.

MURALS

And other art.

After wandering and seeing the art, I headed back to Marfa.

My first stop was Wrong, an art gallery and store. I’d met the owners in Kino in January and wanted to stop in. Well worth the stop! Jewelry, a lunar calendar, artwork, and much, much more. If you’re ever in Marfa, visit there and spend money.

There are some beautiful historical buildings in town, too, including the county courthouse. I elevatored up three floors and then walked up the last two levels.

There’s a beautiful old hotel, the Hotel Paisano (originally El Paisano Hotel) designed by Trost and Trost. (Bisbee, by the way, has a Trost house.) The hotel opened in 1930. It’s famous for headquartering the cast and crew of the 1956 movie Giant and is on the National Register of Historic Places.

Part of what drew me to Marfa was the Marfa Lights, lights that are sometimes seen at dusk and ocassionally later at night, about nine miles east of the town.

https://visitmarfa.com/visit/page/marfa-lights

I went there to watch and hope, and to spend the night. About thirty other people showed up, but unfortunately, you can’t prove the Marfa Lights by me. I did however, see a fine sunset.

After a quiet night, I headed south to Presidio and then northeast to Terlingua, which you’ll read about in my next post.

The Vultures are Back!

Bisbee loves its vultures. Bisbee also loves parades.

My friend Christina Nealson took this photo. She lives in Arivaca, Arizona, where the community is having its first vulture festival this weekend! Check out Christina’s blog at http://christinanealson.com.

So what does Bisbee do when turkey vultures migrate back here for the summer? We have a vulture parade!

This parade has been happening for many years, at least 13 but maybe more. It used to be held in Old Bisbee, but for the last three years it has been in Vista Park during the regular Saturday Market.

Enjoy!

A vulture announces the beginning of the parade.

A vulture feasts while hatchlings (the children in white, in the background) look on.

And of course the famous Bisbee Chickens showed up because, well, it’s Bisbee after all.

After the parade, only the hatchlings’ shells remain.

California’s Central Coast

I cannot capture the California Central Coast in words. I can’t even capture it in photos. I can share only little tiny pieces: waves, flowers, and sunsets. Sea lions and otters. Food. Oh, the food!

Majestic. Awe-inspiring. Comical and whimsical. Views that captured me so completely I couldn’t move. Traffic that terrified me enough that I had to hand over the keys. I live in a town of 800 and was unprepared for LA freeways.

Elle and I drove straight through to California on day one and stayed two nights in a northern suburb of LA, heading into the city on day two. I didn’t drive, of course. Elle and her mother wanted to hit the garment district, shopping for fabrics and checking out fashions. I chose to do what I do well: visit a coffeehouse. I chose one that specialized in French pastries.

We also got caught in traffic.

When the others finished shopping, we ate some fine, fine food at a little hole-in-the wall. We had sandwiches on fresh, crusty baguette. I had tuna salad, and it was the best tuna salad—and maybe the best sandwich—I’ve ever had, the secret recipe handed down to the cook from his Cuban mother.

The following day Elle and I headed north, stopping at a coffeehouse in Santa Barbara and visiting Old Santa Barbara Mission, built in 1786. Our visit to the coffeehouse had my sister dub our visit the California Coffeehouse and Pastry Tour. She was not wrong. We hit a coffeehouse every morning and a few afternoons, often supplementing our caffeine with baked goods.

In Santa Barbara I also saw my favorite hedge and gate.

Slowly, slowly up the coast, visiting Guadalupe and its cemetery.

If you look closely, you can see workers in the field beyond the cemetery.

In Pismo Beach we stopped to see monarch butterflies but could see them only from a distance. Next, late lunch on the pier.

Further north to have some beach time near San Luis Obispo. Then on to San Simeon where we saw the Hearst Castle from afar and elephant seals from a lookout point. We spent the night in San Simeon.

That’s the Hearst Castle left of center.

The next day, day four, we headed north again, stopping in Ragged Beach for, yes, coffee. And a killer breakfast with a fabulous view from the patio.

Had to stop to watch the waves on the way to Ragged Beach.

On up to Gorda which is the southern end of Big Sur country.

About five miles further on at Sand Dollar Beach, the road was closed due to the major slides that happened during the rains last month.

More beach time, a visit with friends, then back south and east to Highway 101 where we headed north to Salinas then west to Monterey for the next three nights.

Stopped at Ragged Beach on the way back south to refuel.

Day five. A lovely coffeehouse in Monterey, then south.

We splurged and paid to take 17-Mile Drive along the coast. Views, views, and more views!

The iconic Lone Cypress on 17-Mile Drive

We had breakfast at the famous lodge at Pebble Beach where we split a breakfast of eggs, potatoes and and Kobe beef—the best, most tender beef I’ve had in my life.

And coffee.

Further south through the village of a Big Sur and finally to the the northern road closure.

Back slowly north to Monterey and our motel.

One of the many bridges between Monterey and Big Sur

On day six we stayed around Monterey and Carmel, visiting Cannery Row and other local sights, battling mobs of tourists for parking and walking space and viewpoints.

The words read as such: “Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky tonks, restaurants and whore houses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flophouses….”

Day seven we had a heavy breakfast on a pier and a visit with a group of sea lions. A group is a herd, a harem, a rookery, or a bob. I rather like rookery.

Then down 101, west to coastal Highway 1, with more beautiful scenery and then traffic jams as we neared Los Angeles

After a final night outside of LA, we drove through morning rush hour, which was about as awful as you can imagine. Then across the desert, into clouds, drizzle, and into Tucson’s afternoon rush hour. It was a long, nearly thirteen-hour day before we got home.

The beauty was spectacular. I was completely enchanted by the waves, their constant crashing as they slowly erode the cliffs. About five or six times daily I’d exclaim, “The waves! My god, look at those waves!”

I must return for a more leisurely trip. More time with sea lions and sunsets and waves. Especially the waves.