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Crossing into Israel

June 8, 2023June 8, 2023Posted in Art, History, Photography, religion, travel, videoTagged Allenby Bridge, Christianity, Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Israel, Jerusalem, JordanLeave a comment

Dateline: January 28, 2023

Leah and I were up at dawn, waiting for the car that would shuttle us from Amman W Hotel to Allenby Bridge, while the balance of our Viking posse was flying from Queen Alia International Airport to various destinations across America. We were excited about 9 extra days of travel throughout Israel, but we were having a last-minute case of shpilkes (anxiety) about our decision to cross the border by bus on Shabbos (Jewish sabbath).

Long before the start of our Middle Eastern adventure, Leah and I had vacillated between flying into Tel Aviv from Amman or completing a land crossing–so we did a time analysis of the two. By flying into Ben Gurion Airport, wading through long security lines before reaching Customs and Immigration, waiting at the luggage carousel, finding an airport taxi during Sabbath, and driving to Arthur Hotel in Jerusalem, we figured it would be a five-to-six-hour ordeal… for about $700.

Or we could taxi to Allenby Bridge, cross between countries, and hire an Arab on the Israeli side to drive us to Jerusalem–all for a hundred bucks and half the time! It seemed like a no-brainer to me.

In addition to our driver, we were accompanied by a handler (packing a pistol) whose job it was to massage the bureaucracy… and he made all the difference.

The ride from Amman was unremarkable–only half-an-hour to the Jordanian border. The immigration terminal was just awakening at 8 AM, with handfuls of early arrivals already waiting for officials to begin processing visas. The handler approached an open window on our behalf with our passports and $30 in hand for departure tax. After that, it was a waiting game.

Another half-hour passed before we were ushered to an open square where transfer busses were boarding for another $10 per person and $2 per bag–all for a 10-minute drive across no man’s land.

Once underway, I lost count of the number of checkpoints we crossed until we finally arrived at the first Israeli immigration building. No one told us what to do or where to go, so I watched what the others were doing and mimicked their behavior.

I grabbed our bags from the cargo hold. They were scanned against our passports, and joined an avalanche of luggage being fed into an x-ray conveyor disguised as a black rubber flap, where they disappeared inside the terminal.

Leah and I joined a chaotic queue outside the terminal that inched toward the entrance and eventually merged with a rowdy, serpentine line inside the terminal that crept toward a block of AIT scanners flanked by Israeli security. Today, being Shabbos, only one scanner was operational, which only exacerbated the crowd’s irritation and frustration, especially when VIPs were intermittently ushered past us in their special lane.

It took an hour to reach the scanner, which led to another half-hour wait in a subsequent line before we were interrogated by an immigration officer who finally issued our tourist cards, and directed us through a makeshift wall that revealed a warehouse of suitcases and packages waiting to be collected.

Picking through piles of Samsonite, Tumi, and American Tourister might have taken hours had it not been for our electronic tags. After reuniting with our suitcases, we had one final queue to master, staffed by a baby-faced security agent who double-checked our IDs against the luggage registry created outside. We were now free to travel about Israel for the next 9 days.

Once we were officially on Israeli soil, we were introduced to Abdul, the taxi driver who reeked of smoke and spoke limited English. Nevertheless, we negotiated a 200 NIS fee ($55) to our hotel in Jerusalem… or so we thought. Forty minutes later, we were standing outside Damascus Gate, where Abdul mimed that he could drive no further due to a military high-alert.

We learned from a passer-by that a 13-year-old Palestinian boy had shot and wounded an Israeli father and son near the entrance to the City of David National Park, while in a separate event the night before, 7 worshippers were killed and 3 were wounded outside a synagogue in East Jerusalem by a West Bank militant, making this the deadliest attack on Israelis in recent years.

In response to the attacks, authorities countered the violence by positioning officers from a counter-terrorism unit “permanently” in the Old City to “promptly respond to exceptional events whenever necessary.” Troops seemed to be omnipresent around the perimeter of the gate.

“Just our luck,” said Leah. Her voice was filled with resignation. “This was my biggest fear! Now what!?”

“I think we’re actually safer than before,” I answered. “The threat of violence is always a real possibility, but Israel knows how to respond to situations like this, especially with the arrival of Secretary of State Blinken.”

“That may be true,” Leah offered, “but many of these soldiers don’t even look old enough to shave!”

Once we got our bearings, we drudged down deserted Jaffa Street–our roller bags bumpety-bumping behind us–until we reached Arthur Hotel.

Since we were far too early to check in, we parked our bags at the hotel and set out on foot to get lost in the Old City and trust our instincts to get back. We discovered the Armenian Quarter, one of the four quarters of real estate within the ancient walls,

which somehow led us to the Christian Quarter, where we stumbled upon the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Christianity’s most revered site, and home to six Christian denominations–Greek Orthodox, Catholic, Armenian, Coptic, Syrian Orthodox, and Ethiopian Orthodox–

that have accepted from religious scholars that this church consecrates the ground where Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected, as seen in a mosaic interpretation of Jesus’s journey that hangs in the church vestibule.

We were unsurprised to find the Church of the Holy Sepulchre crowded with pilgrims and worshippers from around the world who were here to light a candle and prostrate on the Stone of Anointing;

or worship at the uber-ornate Calgary, under the Altar of the Crucifixion, where the alleged Rock of Calvary is encased in glass;

or hug the Aedicule, a shrine protecting the tomb of Jesus,

under the dome of the Catholicon.

We even came across some Crusader graffiti…

on our way to the lower level to admire the Chapel of St. Helena.

We exited the church with a profound respect for the millions of devotees who have made this their purpose.

And we were captured by the solemnity of the moment, as we sauntered down Via Dolorosa, now aware that this was the fateful route taken by Jesus as he dragged the cross to his final destination.

It was enough to process for one day. We were weary from walking, and it was time to find our way back to Jaffa Street.

Ancient Jerash

May 27, 2023May 29, 2023Posted in archeology, Architecture, History, landscape, Photography, religion, travel, videoTagged archaeology, Jerash, Jordan, King Antiochus IV, Roman Empire, Temple of Artemis5 Comments

Jerash is a modern city 45 km (30 mi) north of Amman,

that surrounds an immense Archeological Park designed to protect the ruins of a walled Greco-Roman settlement,

as well as human remains from Neolithic times.

Jerash evolved from an agrarian village on the banks of Wadi Jerash throughout the Iron Age and Bronze Age, to becoming a 4^th century BC garrison founded by Alexander the Great on his way from Egypt to Mesopotamia.

Subsequently, under the reign of Antiochus IV (175 – 164 BC), Jerash became a tax and trade capitol, with special thanks to Zeus for his guidance.

As an aside, it deserves mentioning that King Antiochus is regarded as one of Judaism’s major villains for his iron-fisted repression of Jewish laws and customs. He is forever vilified as the ruler who desecrated Jerusalem’s Second Temple by turning it into a brothel and sacrificing a pig on its altar to honor Zeus. His continuing persecution of Jews ultimately prompted an uprising commanded by Judah Maccabee in 167 BC that eventually led to the recapture of Jerusalem and rededication of the Second Temple, spawning the Miracle of Hannukah.

Only Greek inscriptions on city foundations remained after Jerash was sacked by Roman general Pompey in 63 BC. But under Roman rule, Jerash was rebuilt and thrived as an important trading center to Europe and Asia, as evidenced by the array of architectural riches that have been excavated and restored over the past century, making Jerash the most well-preserved, ancient, Roman city east of Italy.

A walk through the Archaeological Park carried us back in time when the Roman Empire flourished, and Hadrian’s patronage (Emperor from 117 – 138 AD) benefitted the eastern provinces.

There’s the Hippodrome, originally built for chariot races, and later converted to gladiator fights with the addition of amphitheater seating;

the Oval Plaza, with limestone pavers framed by 56 Ionic columns;

the Nymphaeum, the city’s primary water resource…

built to meet the demands of the Western Baths;

the olive oil press located below the floor of the Western Souk…

and a subterranean, water-powered saw mill;

divided spaces for artisan and trade shops lining South Street, outside city limits;

the North Theater, intended for political events;

the unfinished Temple of Artemis–built as a shrine to the patron goddess of Jerash, but utilized as a church during the Byzantine Period, and a fortress during the Crusades.

and other assorted churches built atop the foundations of earlier structures, like the Church of Mariano’s, assembled from stones of a pre-existing synagogue,

and the Church of St. Theodore, completed in 496 AD.

In 749 AD, a devastating earthquake flattened Jerash and turned this once great city of the Decapolis into rubble. It was soon abandoned and largely forgotten until the Crusaders seized the Temple of Artemis from the atabeg of Damascus.

Eventually, the sands of time buried the ruins. Jerash was discovered again in 1806 by German explorer, Ulrich Seezten, who recognized the ruins. But it was only after the British began colonizing the Jordan Valley in 1921 that Jerash became worthy of preserving.

Lucky for us, the British vibe was on full display at the South Theater…

Moses, Mosaics, and Manna

May 18, 2023Posted in archeology, Food, History, landscape, Photography, religion, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Hikayet Sitti, Jordan, Madaba, mosaics, Moses, Mount Nebo, Petra, Shobak CastleLeave a comment

According to the Old Testament (Deuteronomy, 34:6), Moses–at 120 years–ascended the highest crest of Mount Nebo (800m) to view the Jordan Valley.

Although Moses led the sons and daughters of Israel out of bondage from Egypt, Moses was forbidden by God to escort them to the Promised Land.

With every step up the mountain, Moses would contemplate his sin of doubting God’s concern and commitment to The Chosen People. Was it anger or despair that provoked Moses into raising his staff and twice striking the Rock so his congregants and their cattle could drink from the wellspring that burst through the ground, and quell their complaining?

A shrine in Wadi Musa purports to be the perennial natural spring that arose from the rock struck by Moses. The site is most popular among Christian and Muslim pilgrims who travel from all parts to drink from the sacred well.

As for me, I took a hard pass; the water was running slow and low, and too risky to sample.

But the miracle performed by Moses sealed his fate. With Joshua assuming a new leadership role, Moses trekked to the highest point on the western ridge of the ancient Plains of Moab for a view of the Holy Land.

Perhaps God provided Moses with a befitting yet bittersweet panorama before he died, other than the hazy scene that I managed to capture.

All the churches atop Mount Nebo were erected over time to commemorate the death of Moses. The earliest known chapel dates to the 3rd century, followed by a 4th century monastery built to support Christian pilgrims.

20th century archaeologists excavated an intact mosaic floor within the baptistery of the chapel that depicts the cultural life of the Byzantine era–

surrounded by figurative motifs with geometric design flourishes…

that also adorn the walls.

and it’s all been preserved in a new church sanctified by the Franciscan Order in 2018.

The mountaintop is rich with artifacts sponsored by the Franciscans. The serpentine cross atop Mount Nebo was created by Italian artist Gian Paolo Fantoni to symbolize the miracle of the bronze serpent forged by Moses in the wilderness (Numbers 21:4–9) and the crucifixion of Jesus, whereas the stone Monolith was sculpted by Vincenzo Bianchi in honor of Pope John Paul II’s visit during the Great Jubilee of 2000.

As part of the Pope’s pilgrimage to Jordan, he planted an olive tree seedling that he dedicated to peace in the Holy Land.

Ironically, while the tree has prospered, peace has yet to bloom.

Having admired the mosaics of Madaba and Mount Nebo, our group got a personal look at the process at Jordan Jewel Art & Mosaic, which was created in 2008 through Jordan’s Queen Noor Foundation Community Development Initiative as a means of preserving an ancient artisanship introduced by the Greeks over two thousand years ago.

The project has also been a boon to tourism and employment within the governate, with over 100 mosaicists working at the studio or from home, creating historical souvenirs for tourists.

Depending on the pattern and the size, the mosaic can be extremely detailed, at times requiring tens of thousands of intricately-sized tiles and several weeks to complete.

Our crew eventually returned to Madaba for a traditional lunch at Hikayet Sitti (“My Grandmother’s Story”)–a family-owned restaurant in an old home belonging to the Karadsheh family through many generations.

It now belongs to Feryal, the gracious owner/chef who prepared a tasty array of mezza (appetizers) to start,

and a kettle-sized helping of Maqluba–a traditional Middle Eastern dish of chicken, vegetables and rice that’s prepared in a pot and presented upside down.

Feryal distributed the recipe to the home chefs among us, but as I read through the prep and ingredients, I was certain the dish was more complicated:

MAQLUBA

• Fry pieces of eggplant, cauliflower, and potatoes
• Boil pieces of chicken
• Arrange at the bottom of the cooking pan pieces of tomatoes, carrots, onions, sweet pepper,
and garlic
• Then add the fried eggplant, cauliflower, and the potatoes
• Add pieces of chicken
• Cook them together with water
• Add the rice to cook together
• Add black pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom, cumin, cloves, coriander
• Cook until water is evaporated
• Put it on low fire for 5 minutes
• Let it rest for 5 minutes
• Serve it as upside down

Feryal Karadsheh
Hikayetsitti@yahoo.com

As we savored every bite, we were invited to put our tastebuds to the test by identifying all seven spices in our food. My mind immediately raced to episodes of Hell’s Kitchen, when contestants competed in blind tastings for Gordon Ramsey, and the winner received a hot air balloon ride with a champagne lunch.

But Feryal was offering something much better. The prize at Hikayet Sitti was a cold beer from her brother’s brewery… and it was delicious.

After lunch, the coach stopped briefly at Shobak Castle (12th century) enroute to Petra, just as the sun broke through the haze to shower the ruins in golden light.

The castle is a stark reminder of Crusader glory amidst the plunder and ruin of the times.

Our coach driver raced the last hour to Petra with the hope that we’d arrive in time for sunset, and we were duly rewarded with a perfect sky in Wadi Musa just as the sun was falling behind Mount Hor.

It was a good omen for our excursion to Petra the following day…

Jordan Redux

May 11, 2023Posted in archeology, Architecture, Art, geology, History, landscape, museum, Photography, religion, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Dead Sea, Jordan, Madaba, mosaic, St. George Greek Orthodox ChurchLeave a comment

We were a crew of 48 aboard the Viking Ra, divided into 2 camps of 24 travelers who identified as Bus A or Bus B.

Most of the cruisers returned home at the end of our Nile excursion, but 18 intrepid globetrotters–a union of both buses–continued our journey to Jordan for four nights, where we were greeted at Queen Alia International Airport by Ahmad Al Khaldi, our tour director and self-proclaimed terrorist, who adopted the moniker after once guiding the brother of ventriloquist/comedian Jeff Dunham.

Upon arrival to Amman, we boarded a coach for a half-hour ride to Madaba. It was an ambitious itinerary with a lot of ground to cover before reaching the Dead Sea,

but we quickly knew–given the depth of Ahmad’s knowledge, wit, and organization skills–that we were in good hands.

During the half-hour ride to Madaba we absorbed some background about this ancient city that’s renowned for its skilled mosaic artisans,

and its deeply religious ties to Christianity and Islam.

After an orientation of one ofJordan’s holiest landmarks,

we headed to Madaba’s feature attraction… the Greek Orthodox Basilica of Saint George,

where the current structure, consecrated in 1896 is adorned by mosaic icons on every pillar…

but it’s the mosaic floor that’s the star of St. George and Madaba!

The partially restored mosaic map of the Holy Land originates from the 6th century, and was excavated in 1884 when the current church was built atop the ruins of the original Byzantine church. Over 2 million tiles comprise a detailed rendering of the Middle East with surprising detail and accuracy, making it both an artistic masterpiece, and the oldest surviving representation of familiar biblical sites.

We bypassed Mt. Nebo (to be explored the following day) and continued to the Dead Sea Museum,

where we enjoyed an aerial panarama of the Jordan Rift Valley with the lowest elevation on earth (-1410 ft).

and a closer examination of the area’s geological and cultural significance.

Developers see tremedous potential in promoting Dead Sea tourism, touting first-class accomodations and access to its briney beaches. And they’re wasting little time in hotel construction,

because at it’s current rate of evaportion, the Dead Sea will cease to exist by 2050.

Shortly after checking into the sprawling Movenpick village…

it was time to relax with a mud treatment,

and a bouyant soak. What a feeling!

There’s been lots of internet chatter about which country, Israel or Jordan, has the best beaches. The answer is easy: it’s whichever one you’re on!

However, the east coast scores extra points for hosting the sunset over Jerusalem most nights.

Shopping at the Lock

March 24, 2023March 24, 2023Posted in Adventure, landscape, money, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged commerce, Egypt, Esna lock, Khan el Khalili, Shopping4 Comments

The Viking Ra was cruising steadily from Edfu to Luxor on the final leg of our Nile adventure… until we encountered the Esna lock with a 6-ship back up. With each passage through the lock requiring about 20 minutes, we were looking at a 2-hour layover before we’d be underway, so what better way to spend the time than to shop… again.

Viking and I have visited a variety of revered venues vital to vending, but the finest one was the first one–Khan El-Khalili in Old Cairo–one of the oldest and largest open-air souks for whatever you never need, but find it necessary to own.

But that was just the beginning of so many other shopping opportunities we discovered along the way, whether it was sourcing a simple souvenir at a temple souk;

or buying a bolt of fancy fabric at a textile shop;

or funding a furnishing from a village storefront;

or securing a special spice at the food bazaar;

or raising thousands for a hand-knotted rug at a weaving studio.

There was also a gift shop aboard the Ra, where an Armenian jeweler could craft 18K gold into personalized cartouche earrings and pendants for a pretty price.

In fact, there was nary a place we visited, where Ra passengers couldn’t “get their shopping on,” to the extent that a few passengers required an extra suitcase to transport their trinkets and treasures.

Deck hands used the extra time to swab the main deck and raise a clean flag,

while passengers on the sun deck flocked to the starboard side to find our riverboat nearly surrounded by a band of merchants in blue rowboats, reminiscent of how Somali pirates operate, but with a enterprising purpose.

It was an interesting phenomena, but rather than explain it, I believe this video best captures the merchandising protocol.

^{Shopping on the Nile at Esna Lock}

Items for inspection usually arrived by air mail–rolled up and bagged. Unwanted items were returned the same way, but errant tosses to the boat got wet on occasion. Money was exchanged by sealing it in a tied bag with a returned item.

Eventually after two hours, it was our turn to pass through the lock. Surprisingly, the merchants who tied their vessels to the Ra were carried along–still haggling with their Habibis before finally disengaging on the downriver side of Esna lock.

Even more surprising… Leah and I didn’t purchase a single thing!

Dancing the Tanoura

March 9, 2023March 9, 2023Posted in Adventure, Art, culture, Entertainment, History, music, Photography, travel, videoTagged Dance, Egypt, Esna, Sufi, Tanoura, Whirling Dervish6 Comments

Tonight was cultural arts night aboard the Viking Ra, and all hands were decked out in their finest Egyptianized evening wear, in celebration of our host country.

It provided the perfect opportunity for women to shimmy in their cotton camel PJ pants, embroidered tunics, and spangled belly dance costumes,

while a few men rocked the casbah in their galabeyas (long shirts) and keffiyehs (square-shaped, cotton scarves).

Personally, my taste borders on Tommy Bahama does Margaritaville at REI, with little to no resemblance of anything Middle Eastern-related, so I reimagined a hand towel as a Nemes (royal headdress), and called it a night. Leah chose to ignore the fashion directive.

It was also a time for traditional Egyptian cuisine–served family style–followed by an hour of Sufi-themed music and dance.

With the riverboat tied up in Esna for the night, Viking passengers benefited from a wealth of local talent who came aboard to showcase their cultural arts–steeped in a medieval tradition of Islamic spiritualism that deals with purification of the inner self through a deep devotion and physical experience of God.

As enchanting as it was hypnotic, a member of the troupe performed the tanoura (Arabic for ‘skirt’), a trance dance not unlike the Turkish Whirling Dervishes, but with an Egyptian “spin.” Its origin dates to 13th century Egypt, when whirling in place became a means to reaching karma. The dancer spins anti-clockwise–which symbolizes Muslim pilgrimage around the Kaaba, while also preventing dizziness.

Our dancer wore a multi-layered tanoura of many colors (collectively weighing over 50 lbs.), as he performed his meditative ritual for over 15 minutes, dancing with trays, and scarves. Unbelievable!

Then the ship lights dimmed, and the tanoura turned psychedelic!

It was an enlightening way to spend the evening!

The Great Pyramids of Giza

February 12, 2023February 14, 2023Posted in Adventure, Architecture, History, landscape, museum, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Egypt, Giza, Pyramids, Saqqara7 Comments

I’ve dreamt of visiting the Great Pyramids nearly all of my adult life, and now, as I gaze through the window of our Viking coach, I catch my first glimpse of these ancient wonders rising beyond a construction zone. Somehow, I can’t escape the notion that these ancient Wonders of the World are part of a half-baked theme park, given their scale and juxtaposition.

We entered the vast necropolis of Saqqara, which served as the ancient cemetery of Memphis,

featuring the Pyramid of Djoser (frequently called the Step Pyramid), considered the world’s oldest known stone structure, constructed c. 2670–2650 BC. This 6-tier, 4-sided edifice rises 205 ft (62.5m).

That’s where I met Abdul the Bedouin, regarded by locals as the honorary mayor of Saqqara.

What luck! Seeing Abdul broadly smiling against this epic backdrop, I knew this was an irresistible photo op… and he knew it too–for he was adding instant authenticity to my visual narrative.

Not long after pressing the shutter release, Abdul eagerly approached me and offered to have Leah take our picture together, but not until I was properly costumed.

But don’t be fooled! Despite his diminutive stature, this mild-mannered goat herder with Clark Kent glasses had a secret power. Abdul the Bedouin could hypnotize me into giving him money in exchange for wearing his shemagh.

He wrapped his arm across my shoulder. “Habibi, you’re going to make me very happy,” he whispered as Leah was composing the shot of us. “After all, I have five children to feed.”

Egypt is a poor country. Wages in Giza average between $500 and $750 per month.

Yet, as a Saqqara personality, Abdul was very good at his job–equal parts ham and shmaltz. And he managed to squeeze me for 5 bucks.

Leah and I resumed our tour of the Saqqara necropolis,

at the site of King Teti’s pyramid.

We followed a dark shaft down a narrow passage…

into the belly of his burial chamber, replete with impressive and very rare pyramid texts traced to c. 2300 BC.

This led to an antechamber lined with relief engravings that showcased the preparations made by Teti’s royal staff in anticipation of his journey to eternity,

after having traveled beyond the alabaster alter to the kingdom of the dead.

Our next stop was the Great Pyramid of Khufu, the largest of the “big three,” standing 481 ft. and constructed c. 2570 BC. And what a site to behold!

Venders were omnipresent, with pop-up stalls surrounding the pyramid’s perimeter.

That’s where we met Mohammed and his camel. While chatting us up, he snatched my cellphone and insisted on taking our picture.

I paid Mohammed a $5 ransom for my cellphone ($1 for each of his 5 children), however, he expressed his disappointment knowing there’d be no camel ride, but only because another vendor was promised Viking’s business:

We ended our visit to Giza with a brief jaunt to the Sphinx…

with still enough time for one last parlor trick before boarding the bus.

As for Abdul and Mohammed, best $10 spent, ever!

Next stop: Luxor, Egypt…

Impressions Photographique de Montréal

September 3, 2022Posted in Architecture, Canada, culture, Food, History, landscape, Photography, religion, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Biosphere, Buckminster Fuller, Clocktower, Geodesic dome, La Grande Roue de Montréal, Lanzhou Noodle Shop, Montreal, Notre-Dame Basilica, Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel, Old Port, Parc Jean-Drapeau3 Comments

It took a few days of walking, cycling, and driving around Montréal before Leah and I found our bearings from atop Mont Royal.

We roamed the rues and parcs of the city in search of historic, cultural, and architectural significance–with an emphasis on good food…and we found it in many of the neighborhoods we visited.

***^{Nouilles de Lan Zhou – Noodle Shop}***

We followed in the steps of 6 million annual tourists who stroll, bike, blade and run between Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours Chapel (1771),

and the Sailors’ Memorial Clock (1922) at the Vieux-Port de Montréal (Old Port).

We shared a laugh after spotting yet another monster-sized Ferris wheel on the pier, but La Grande Roue de Montréal, erected in 2017 to celebrate Montréal’s 350^th anniversary is one of several family attractions that appeal to tourists near and far.

In 1642, New France took root on the banks of the Saint Lawrence River, where French traders and the Crown established a fort (Ville-Marie) in support of a flourishing fur trade. Roman Catholic missionaries followed, intending to establish a North American parish that could convert the Iroquois to Christianity, and build a cathedral that was worthy of a New World capital.

Notre-Dame Basilica was designed by James O’Donnell in a Gothic Revival style, and built behind the original parish church.

*^{Robert Auchmuty Sproule (1799-1845)}*

The sanctuary was completed in 1830,

and the towers followed in 1841 and 1843.

The interior’s intricate stone and wood carvings were completed in 1879.

The pipe organ dates to 1891. It comprises four keyboards, 92 stops, 7000 individual pipes and a pedal board.

Arson destroyed the more intimate Sacre-Coeur Chapel in 1978, but it was rebuilt from original drawings, and finished with an immense bronze altarpiece by Quebec sculptor Charles Daudelin.

It’s a 5-minute Metro ride from downtown to Parc Jean-Drapeau, an island park surrounded by the Saint Lawrence River. Half the park is natural (Saint Helen’s Island) and the other half is artificial (Ile de Notre Dame), conceived with rock excavated from Montréal’s Metro tunnels.

The park is a fitting tribute and memorial for its namesake, Jean Drapeau. As mayor of Montréal (1954-1957, 1960-1986), he was instrumental in bringing Expo67 to his city. Drapeau is also remembered for securing the 1976 Summer Olympics for Montréal, as well as successfully lobbying Major League Baseball for a major league franchise during its 1969 expansion (Kansas City Royals, Montreal Expos, San Diego Padres, and Seattle Pilots).

Few pavilions from Expo67 remain on the island. Notably, the French pavilion has been repurposed as Canada’s largest casino.

And the United States pavilion, featuring Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome has also been preserved, despite a fire in1976 that burned through the structure’s acrylic bubble, leaving only the steel trusses.

Fortunately, the exhibition space within the dome was spared, and has been transformed into an interactive museum named Biosphere, that tells the story of our environment through several rooms of multimedia presentations,

and a wraparound theater space.

But its the iconic geodesic dome that most visitors have come to experience. The New York Times picked the dome as one of “the 25 Most Significant Works of Postwar Architecture.”

Geometry majors may discover 32 triangles from the center of each vertex to the next vertex.

Montréal is also a culinary haven for foodies. We sampled wood-oven-baked bagels from St-Viateur, and smoked meat from Chez Schwartz in the Jewish Quarter. For dinner, Leah and I migrated to Chinatown to sample the fare with Jennifer, a dear friend in town for business.

We settled on a tasty meal of soup dumplings at Mai Xiang Yuan Dumpling, but wondered out loud about the long queue out the the door for Gol’s Lanzhou Noodle Shop.

We made a mental note and returned to Gol’s the following evening, only to find another long line of future diners waiting patiently. I spent my wait time studying the noodle maker through the window…

and tasted his skillset in my meal when we were finally seated and served a tureen-sized portion of steaming heaven.

*^{Authentic Lanzhou braised beef and noodles}*

These were beef noodles to stand in line for, whenever I’m back in Montréal.

Flowerpot Rocks

August 28, 2022Posted in Adventure, Canada, geology, hiking, landscape, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Bay of Fundy, Cape Enrage, Flowerpot Rocks, Hopewell Rocks--Hopewell Cape, Lighthouse, New Brunswick, Reverse Falls, Saint John River4 Comments

Every six hours, twice a day–give or take a few minutes, depending on the tidal charts–the Bay of Fundy empties into the Atlantic Ocean,

and exposes the ocean floor.

When the tide rolls out,

the effect at the harbor is dramatic enough to leave fishing vessels resting on their laurels.

And peculiar things happen on the Saint John River…

on its way to the Bay of Fundy.

When the Saint John River drains into the Bay of Fundy at the Reversing Falls Bridge…

it triggers a phenomena seen nowhere else: water being pushed up the channel to create an inverted waterfall.

At its highest, the Bay of Fundy’s tide reaches 56 ft.–equivalent to a 5-story building…or boat.

But when the bay recedes, what’s revealed is often surprising and stunning.

Consider the rocky reef at Cape Enrage,

which supports a pop-up sculpture park…

overseen by the Cape Enrage Lighthouse–still protecting New Brunswick’s coastline since 1870.

However, there’s a different phenomena to behold during low tide at Hopewell Rocks Provincial Park,

that’s absolutely enchanting.

Tidal erosion has sculpted these magnificent cliff remnants into distinctive shapes, with sizes ranging from 40 to 70 feet high.

Scientists have nicknamed these formations Flowerpot Rocks for obvious reasons.

The cape is vast,

with so much to explore,

but time for roaming the ocean floor is strictly regulated, and closely monitored by security,

lest a tourist get pinned to the rocks by the surging tide,

and get swept away by unexpected beauty.

Olympic Pipe Dreams

August 23, 2022August 26, 2022Posted in Adventure, Entertainment, History, landscape, Photography, sports, travel, video, wanderlustTagged bobsled experience, Lake Placid, Mt Van Hoevenberg, Nordic and Sliding Center, Olympics4 Comments

I treated myself to a bobsled ride at the Nordic and Sliding Center in Lake Placid for no particular reason, and it was amazing.

Yet the notion of barreling down Mt. Van Hoevenberg in a pocket rocket was never part of my original bucket list…although it should have been. So I added it, just so I could cross it off my list.

True, there’s another bobsled run in Park City, but I’m not schlepping to Utah for another sliding track if I’m already here. Besides, Olympic history was made at Lake Placid, when the Americans defeated the Soviets in the men’s hockey finale.

Leah had less than zero interest in joining me, so I was on my own. Unfortunately, she was nursing a bad lower back the past few days, and missing out on a world of world-class activities–

while I was anticipating the thrill of winding through a dozen curves in a rumbling sled, and wondering how I would capture it all without dropping my phone. Carpe diem, all the way!

I filled out a “hold harmless” waiver online; showed the attendant my drivers license (although I wasn’t driving); and booked a 1pm run-time for $125. I thought it a bit pricey for a 55 second experience, compared to the “value” of free-falling from an airplane (Free Fallin’ Off My Bucket List),

or riding Class 4 and 5 rapids on the New River (New River Gorge), but at least I’d have bragging rights among friends.

Leah was willing and able to join me on the Legacy Tour, where we previewed the Olympic Center’s newest facility–the first of its kind, indoor push-track for bobsled and skeleton in the United States–

where athletes can practice start gate techniques for skeletons, and bobsleds. But they’ll need to dress for winter, because it was like a mammoth refrigerator inside!

We warmed up while examining the 1980 track, which is built atop the 1932 track, which runs parallel to the Cliffside Coaster, North America’s longest coaster.

Next, we boarded a bus that drove us to the 1st of 4 start gates of the Combined Track, completed in 2000…

for a look at what $50K to $100K will buy these days.

Then we walked the upper course…

past Curve 1…

to Start Gate 3…

with a distant view of the Ski Jump Center.

I shared my downhill ride with an anonymous coed, who took the first position behind the driver. I squeezed in behind her, with my butt planted on a quilted foam pad. Definitely, not the best position for a bad back, so Leah was right to sit this one out. Instructions were simple: hold onto the inside bars with both hands.

“But how will I video this?” I asked.

The attendant picked his words carefully: “You didn’t hear this from me, but if you hold your phone near the edge of the sled and brace your arm against the roll bar, your phone should fall into the sled if it slips out-ta your hand.”

We got a push and we were ready to roll…

^{Mt Van Hoevenberg, Lake Placid–Aug 20 ’22}

We posted a respectable 52.25 seconds over the 1500 meter run. Olympian athletes can reach speeds of 90mph barreling down the same course.

While not the fastest run at 48mph, it was quick enough to earn me a moment on the gold medal podium.

Completing the Golden Circle

June 19, 2022Posted in Adventure, geology, hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Golden Circle, Gullfoss, Iceland, Selfoss, Strokker, Thingvellir National Park2 Comments

Feeling exhilarated after our Silfra snorkeling adventure, Leah and I said goodbye to Thingvellir, and set out to complete the remaining natural wonders of the Golden Circle trifecta.

We continued to Haukadalur, a geothermal valley in South Iceland that boasts a plethora of fumaroles and geysers,

including the powerful and predictable Strokkur, Iceland’s most active geyser that regularly erupts every 5 to 10 minutes like clockwork,

sending boiling water skyward, 20 to 40 metres beyond its mineral-stained crust.

Afterwards, we traveled to Hvítá river canyon to visit Iceland’s beloved falls, Gullfoss. The water in Hvítá river travels from the glacier Langjökull, Iceland’s second largest ice cap, before cascading 32 meters (105 feet) down Gullfoss’ double drops in dramatic display.

We arrived in time for one of Iceland’s typical daily weather changes as we hiked to the closest observation deck. The blustery gales had driven the cold drizzle and falls spray sideways. While we were dressed appropriately in warm parkas and rain pants, Leah was miserable and could only manage a walk to one of many overlooks of Gullfoss.

I tried to ignore the weather, but the poor visibility and annoying spritz was affecting my ability to keep the camera lens dry while trying to capture the “perfect shot.”

Leah retired to the comfort of the Land Cruiser, while I climbed above the canyon wall in search of a different perspective, thinking that if I distanced myself from the water, I could keep my camera dry.

The best that I could manage, given the circumstances was adequate…

However, to my chagrin, I found the perfect shot at the base of the foothills, but it belonged to a park graphic with information about Gullfoss…

However, looking southeast, I also discovered a telling view of Thingvellir’s distant topography just beyond the Visitor Center.

Of course, being a national park, certain rules apply; and understandably, drone photography is a no no. But Gullfoss is so expansive that it would surely benefit from an aerial approach, so the Park Service sanctioned a third party to capture the awe and splendor that only a drone can see.

We ended our day in Selfoss,

where more adventures await…

New River Gorge

June 3, 2022June 3, 2022Posted in Adventure, geology, hiking, History, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, sports, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Cathedral Falls, New River Gorge Bridge, New River Gorge National Park, Outpost, Thurmond, West Virginia, whitewater6 Comments

The New River has been carving the Appalachian Valley for the past 10 to 360 million years–depending on who you ask–which makes it an ancient river–ranked behind the Finke and Meuse as the world’s third oldest river. Of course, there is the obvious non sequitur, given the river’s moniker and apparent age.

One story claims that its name comes from a translation from Indian dialect meaning “new waters.” Another explanation tells of Captain Byrd who had been employed to open a road from the James River to Abingdon in 1764. Byrd used the Jefferson-Fry Map published in 1755. However, this map did not show the river, so Byrd noted it as the “New River.”

Originating in North Carolina, the New River flows 360 miles north until it meets the Gauley River in southern West Virginia, providing some of the best whitewater (Class IV rapids and above) on the planet, and the main reason for our visit.

Our first look came from an overlook behind the Canyon Rim Visitor Center,

treating us to canopied canyon walls as far as we could see, soaring 876 feet above the water.

and a profile of the New River Gorge Bridge (the Rusted Rainbow).

When the New River Gorge Bridge opened in 1977, it was the world’s longest single-span arch bridge for 26 years. With an arch 1,700 feet (518 m) long, it is now relegated to the fifth longest.

While I appreciate the engineering feat of a half-mile span that saves travelers 45 minutes of detouring,

it’s the river I’ve come to conquer.

New and Gauley River Adventures shoved off from Stone Cliff at 10am–14 miles downriver from the bridge–with six eager adrenalin junkies and our guide, Costa Rica Scott in one raft, and a support raft to tag along. Leah refused to float with us, despite my gentle coaxing.

Once we were properly outfitted with life jackets and helmets…

off we went…

While the first half of the trip was relatively lazy, with fountains of 60^oF spray coming from occasional haystacks and laterals, the spring run-off and torrents of rain before our arrival had turned the second half into a fast-moving, turbulent churn, filled with hydraulic traps, and 7 foot waves.

which had us threading our way through Keeneys, Dudleys Dip, Double Z, Greyhound, and Millers Folly Rapids with increased caution.

Miraculously, we never flipped and everyone remained in the boat throughout the ride. However, the soul behind me spent most of the time stretched across the raft with his head pinned over the gunwale, retching. Fortunately, whenever our pilot commanded us to “dig in” (paddle like our lives depended on it), I avoided smacking him across the face.

After 4 hours on the river, our take-out was just shy of the bridge, beyond Fayette Station.

What a blast! If only there was time to run back and do it again, but that would have left little time for hiking to Diamond Point;

visiting Cathedral Falls in Ansted;

investigating abandoned beehive coke ovens in Nuttallburg;

strolling through a mining ghost town (pop. 5) in Thurmond;

or just chilling at The Outpost, “Where Wild Meets Wonderful.”

Perhaps another visit is in order.

Ballistic Badlands: Avoiding a Nuclear Winter

October 29, 2021Posted in Adventure, geology, History, landscape, museum, National Parks, Philosophy, Photography, Politics, Science, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Badlands, Cold War, Delta -09, Duck and Cover, Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, South Dakota2 Comments

Long stretches of telephone totems tethered as far as the eye can see…

Free-ranging livestock sprinkled across the flatlands…

Barbed wire perimeters surrounded by pastureland and littered with cow pies…

From 1963 to 1993, one thousand Minuteman II missiles (ICBMs) capable of delivering a 1.2 megaton nuclear warhead to a Soviet target in 30 minutes were housed in underground silos like Delta-09 that stretched across the Great Plains,

with 150 launch sites dispersed throughout South Dakota, transforming the serenity of the prairie into a hibernating military zone.

The Minuteman Missile National Historic Site commemorates a period in America’s history when “Mutually Assured Destruction” (MAD) imperiled the world, and delves into the birth of the Cold War, the nuclear arms race, and development of ICBMs.

At the height of the Cold War between Soviet Union and United States there were more than enough nuclear missiles in both arsenals to destroy the planet 5 times over.

As I walked through a maze of interactive exhibits, childhood memories came flooding back.

While growing up in an era of “duck and cover” mindfulness, we were acutely aware of the danger outside our global window.

With the school claxon sounding in 3-clang intervals, my classmates and I responded by hunching under our desks in silence until the principal gave us the “all clear” over the PA. It was our way of showing the Commies that we were prepared and doing our part in the recurring struggle to keep ourselves safe from a political bogeyman.

Of course, as we got older (these drills lasted through middle school), we doubted that “duck and cover” would ever protect us from a nuclear firestorm or subsequent fall-out.

Because of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the realization that Pittsburgh’s steel mills were a likely military target, my father’s master plan in the event of a nuclear attack was to convert our basement closet filled with dusty canvas awnings and rusted paint cans. We painted the concrete blocks a putrid shade of green under the glare of a single dangling light bulb swinging from the ceiling, and filled the 6 x 6 closet with mattress slabs, jugs of water, and a box of batteries for our flashlights. I always wondered how our family of four (at the time) would survive inside this moldy space.

After touring the Visitor Center, we rode 15 minutes on I-90 West to a decommissioned missile silo roughly the size of a football field, and the feeling was ominous.

Locked beneath a sliding 9-ton hatch…

was a vertical rocket in-waiting. I pressed against the tinted, transparent armor and peered into a hole 185 feet deep for a first look and a photograph.

Despite being disarmed,

it was no less unsettling to consider that humanity holds the power of mass destruction, and the Badlands backdrop–75 million years in the making–could vanish in an instant.

The Mountain Is Out Today

August 26, 2021Posted in Adventure, family, geology, hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Alta Vista, Glacier Vista, Grove of the Patriarchs, Mount Rainier, Myrtle Falls, Narada Falls, Nisqually Glacier, Paradise Inn, Reflection Lake, Skyline Trail, weather4 Comments

Mount Rainier is so imposing that it makes its own weather, and on most days the mountain disappears under its thorny crown of rain clouds.

In fact, weather analysts calculate the odds of “seeing” Mount Rainier likely hovers between once or twice a week, considering the 189 rain-days per year, producing 126 inches of precipitation annually.

On the other hand, July is Mount Rainier’s driest month, with an average of 7 days of rainfall, amounting to 2 inches on average, which improves the odds tremendously for the millions who live and travel the I-5 corridor between Tacoma and Seattle. They invoke a familiar colloquialism that captures the moments when Mount Rainier reveals itself. They say, “The mountain is out today.”

My youngest son Nathan, who lives in nearby Bellevue had arranged long ago to glamp with Leah and me for a summer weekend at the National Park so he could experience Paradise, up close and personal, for the first time.

Happily, during our visit, “the mountain was out,” and it was magnificent!

On our first day together, we sought out a few of the requisite park sites as part of Nate’s Rainier orientation, including:

a wobbly walk across a suspension bridge…

to gaze at ancient trees…

in the Grove of the Patriarchs;

a hike to Myrtle Falls, cascading 72 feet into a rocky gorge;

a gambol across Sunbeam Creek on the Wonderland Trail before it rolls into Stevens Canyon;

tracking iconic, Narada Falls,

as it plunges 168 feet into a canyon of split rocks;

admiring Reflection Lakes, sans the reflection (ruined by wind-swept ripples);

and relishing the trove of jaw-dropping, mountain vistas that seem to vanish into thin air–

which we reflected on while enjoying a soft-serve swirl at the historic Paradise Inn.

The next day, the mountain was still out, and it was a picture perfect day for hiking the Skyline Trail to Panorama Point.

Of all the trails I’ve trekked, I can say with cautious certainty that the Skyline Trail may be among the most magnificent of them. With the sun out, and blooming wildflowers dotting the landscape, there are few hikes that can compare.

We started on a paved path from the Paradise Inn at 5,420 feet elevation, and continued to climb through flower-carpeted meadows for a mile…

until we reached the Deadhorse Creek Trail spur, and looked back in wonderment.

We were now traipsing through packed snow and rocky terrain as we reached the tree line. We paused for a break where other hikers were keenly aware of something or someone through binoculars and long camera lenses. I scanned the mountain for movement through my viewfinder, and discovered the attraction–a team trekking across the glacier on their way to the summit.

Nisqually Glacier was now looming large in our sights.

The spectacle of watching the snowmelt pummeling the moraine below was thrilling.

It seemed to us that Rainier was so close, we could almost touch it.

With one last push, we arrived at Panorama Point, having climbed 1400 feet in 2 hours. I should have felt drained, but I was giddy with excitement with views from the overlook,

while also spotting Mount St. Helens far in the distance,

and capturing the Nisqually River as it meanders through the Rampart Ridge gorge.

On our return trip, we opted to take the Glacier Vista spur for a beauty shot of the mountain,

and ourselves.

Returning via the Alta Vista Trail gave us a very different impression of the valley below,

but also prompted us to occasionally glance back to admire the source of all the magic.

Rocky Reservations

July 15, 2021July 16, 2021Posted in Adventure, Food, hiking, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Bear Lake, Bob and Tony's Pizza, Colorado, entry reservation, Estes Park, National Park Service, Rocky Mountain National Park2 Comments

Leah and I have been planning our current trip since January–looking at various routes, places of interest, and RV park availability. At times it seemed like a logistical nightmare–having to shift dates and locations to accommodate timing, anticipated weather and RV park amenities (service hook-ups).

By April, most all of our mapped destinations (44 in all over 20 weeks) were booked. That’s about the same time the National Park Service (NPS) announced that two of our anticipated stops (Rocky Mountain and Glacier) now require timed-entry permits to be eligible to visit.

Because NPS is grappling with record attendance and overrun facilities at many locations, this additional measure is intended to relieve congestion at the park gates at best, and eliminate park closures due to limited parking and staffing woes.

At Rocky Mountain National Park, two reservation options were available for visitors between May 28 and October 11: Bear Lake Road Corridor plus full park access, which includes Wild Basin, Long’s Peak, Trail Ridge Road, and Fall River Area from 5:00 AM – 6:00 PM; and all park roads except Bear Lake Road Corridor, with a reservation period from 9:00 AM – 3:00 PM.

When the reservations window opened on May 1 at 8 AM (MDT), passes became available on a first-come basis—up to 60 days in advance–with approximately 25% of day passes held for guests planning to arrive within 2 days. I logged on to recreation.gov bright and early, and was eager to claim my permit, but apparently the rest of the world had the same idea.

When the online dust settled, I had my coveted entry pass, albeit with a 2:00 PM start time. While it wasn’t the most ideal situation–losing half the day–it was better than making the trip, only to be turned away. Yes, it’s happening.

On the day of our permit, Leah and I meandered through Estes Park for a few hours, breezing through art, jewelry, sporting goods, and general stores, where Leah found an eyeglass lanyard for a buck. We passed a dress-up cowboy spieling in front of Bob and Tony’s Pizza on Elkhorn Ave. and laughed it off, but we returned for some of the worst pizza we’ve ever tasted, although comparable to spreading Ketchup over a cardboard circle, which I did as a child.

Once we passed through the Bear Lake ranger checkpoint, we stretched our legs with a walk around Sprague Lake, the site of a one-time mountain resort, and immediately, we were greeted by a curious teenager,

who looks as if he had a bad reaction from a slice of pizza from Bob and Tony’s…

and is returning to a healthier diet of tall grass.

Half way around Sprague Lake, we encountered his girlfriend romping through the water, courtesy of Leah’s iPhone…

Completing the lake loop, we stood in awe at the doorstep of the Continental Divide and admired the view…but not for as long as I would have liked, since we only had a narrow window of time to explore our immense surroundings.

Naturally, being inside the Bear Lake Corridor gave us an opportunity to circle Bear Lake,

and its neighbor, Nymph Lake.

But running short on time, I abandoned my goal of hiking the rest of the trail to Emerald Lake,

and opted for time in the higher elevations. Our drive took us through Moraine Park,

till we reached Horseshoe Park at the junction of Trail Ridge Road.

Once we rounded the bend from Hidden Valley…

it was one spectacular lookout…

after another…

and another…

and another…

until we reached the Gore Range, the highest elevation on the park road at 12,183 feet.

We drove as far as Medicine Bow Curve, when a herd of elk happened to wander across the tundra to graze, as if to remind us that we were approaching dinner-time. It was our cue to U-turn.

As we doubled back, our conversation turned to the timed-entry, reservation system. The time we were allotted was just a teaser, considering the 355 miles of hiking trails throughout the park.

While I would have preferred a whole day or two or three to satisfy my craving for mountains, I support more people having a chance to appreciate this country’s beauty without annoying crowds, and to capture a lasting memory…

Wings of a Fallen Angel

July 9, 2021July 9, 2021Posted in Architecture, History, landscape, museum, Photography, Politics, travel, videoTagged Angel Fire NM, David Westphall, David Westphall Veterans Foundation, Disabled American Veterans (DAV), Victor Westphall, Vietnam Veterans Memorial, Vietnam War4 Comments

U.S. Marine Corps 1st Lieutenant Victor David Westphall III and 16 Bravo Company soldiers under his command lost their lives in an ambush at Con Thien (“Hill of Angels”), a combat base near the former Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone.

But Victor “Doc” Westphall shaped his grief differently than 58,000 other Gold Star families who were looking to find meaning in their child’s death from a senseless and unpopular war. He and his wife Jeanne would dedicate the rest of their lives working to fulfill their son’s legacy by honoring ALL victims of the Vietnam War.

When sons or daughters die in battle, parents are confronted with the choice of what they will do to honor the courage and sacrifice of that son or daughter. Following the death of our son, Victor David Westphall, on May 22, 1968, in Vietnam, we decided to build an enduring symbol of the tragedy and futility of war.

With $30,000 seed money from David’s life insurance payout and another $60,000 in savings, Doc commissioned Santa Fe architect, Ted Luna to design a chapel on his Moreno Valley hillside property off U.S. Highway 64 in Angel Fire, NM.

After three years of sweat equity, Doc presented the Vietnam Veterans Peace and Brotherhood Chapel…

to commemorate the loss of his son.

The spartan, triangular-shaped chapel was intended as a non-denominational sanctuary, with the exception of a towering cross-like torchiere at the vortex.

But Westphall’s vision was running on fumes; he needed $20,000 per year in maintenance expenses, and donations were in short supply, especially after Maya Lin’s national memorial (the Wall) was dedicated in Washington D.C. on November 13, 1982.

Fortunately, the Disabled American Veterans organization committed to funding Doc’s memorial, and ownership was transferred to their foundation. The Disabled American Veterans charity tended “Doc’s” dream till 1998–building a much-needed Visitor Center into the hillside in 1986, and acquiring an additional 25 acres for a buffer zone before reverting ownership back to the David Westphall Veterans Foundation (DWVF).

In 1999, DWVF inherited a decommissioned Huey for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial grounds from the New Mexico Army National Guard, acknowledging the impact that the Huey had in Vietnam combat assault, resupply, and medivac missions.

After 17 years of ground service at the memorial, their Huey was lovingly restored…

and returned to its hallowed perch.

On Veterans Day 2005, Gov. Bill Richardson granted the Vietnam Veterans Memorial state park status, which secured state resources for needed renovations and a newly built amphitheater behind the chapel.

In 2007, a commemorative walkway was inaugurated for all U.S. veterans. The dates on the bricks-for-bucks signify the dates of service. Two stars denote the person was killed in action, and one star designates missing in action.

On July 1, 2017, management of the Memorial was transferred from the NM State Parks to NM Department of Veterans Services.

Doc Westphall died in 2003 at the age of 89, and his wife Jeanne died the following year. Both are buried at the memorial.

At the time–during the Vietnam War–I would have registered as a conscientious objector if necessary, as I had no taste for war. Lucky for me, I side-stepped conscription with a college deferment in 1970, and a high enough number (#181) in the Selective Service Lottery held on August 5, 1971. By then, Nixon had ordered phased withdrawals to coincide with Vietnamization. Consequently, fewer numbers were being called up to relieve the soldiers returning home, who received little fanfare and support from society at large.

Approximately 2.7 million men and women served in Vietnam over the course of 20 years without America ever realizing its objective–to thwart the spread of Communism in Southeast Asia.

So many young soldiers made the ultimate sacrifice to defend their country with honor, and so many paid the ultimate price with their lives. Moreover, far too many came back broken from their war experience. At the very least, we owe them all a debt of gratitude, and above all, our respect.

Thankfully, the Vietnam Veterans Peace and Brotherhood Chapel offers us a place to share our grief, heal old wounds, and bring us closer to awareness and acceptance of our past.

Bandelier Delivers

July 3, 2021July 3, 2021Posted in Adventure, Airstream, hiking, History, landscape, National Parks, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Alcove House, Ancestral Pueblo people, Bandelier National Monumnet, cliff dwellings, Long House2 Comments

Leah and I were en route from Albuquerque to Taos when I noticed an early road sign for Bandelier National Monument. As we got closer to our destination and signs for Bandelier became more frequent, I proposed that we make it a stop–not for overnighting, but a daytrip to break up the travel monotony–considering it wasn’t more than an hour out of our way.

While there wasn’t hardcore support for the idea, there wasn’t serious objection either, which meant I still had a chance to sell the idea.

“I think it’s been 46 years since I was there–probably some side-trip while visiting Santa Fe during my first cross-country honeymoon trip,” I started.

“I think I was there sooner than that,” Leah commented, “like in the past 10 years.”

“Really? It couldn’t have been with me,” I asserted. “Do you not have an interest in going?”

“I don’t know,” she maintained. “I mean, is there anything there that we haven’t seen before?

I thought, “Are you kidding me?! Would you pass up Niagara Falls because you saw Victoria Falls?”

I said, “It’s the site of an ancient pueblo village. It’s similar to Mesa Verde, and I think you may be mistaking one for the other, because we last visited Mesa Verde when we flew to Santa Fe for Carrie’s wedding 12 years ago.”

“Are you sure?” asked Leah.

“As certain as I was about Blue Hole,” I replied.

“What do you propose we do with the Airstream, ’cause we certainly can’t pull it around the canyon,” Leah asked and answered.

“We can work that out when we get there,” I proposed.

Sometime that answer gets me in trouble…but not this day!

We first passed through Los Alamos (with maybe more nuclear physicists per square mile than anywhere else on earth), and climbed a ridgeline of the Jemez Mountains,

overlooking the Frijoles Canyon.

“Any of this look familiar,” I teased.

We followed a serpentine road that wound around the mountain, carrying us deeper into the canyon. A park ranger stopped us at the park entrance station.

“Sorry folks, but your trailer–nice as it is–doesn’t fit on our mountain roads. To get to our Visitor Center and trails, you’re gonna have to drive to the Juniper Campground parking lot and unhitch there,” he advised.

“Sounds reasonable,” I confirmed.

“You’re prepared to do all this work just to drive the park?” Leah asked.

“You’ll see. It’ll be worth it!” I said.

We walked the Pueblo Loop Trail, passing Big Kiva (a ceremonial underground chamber)…

and the 700-year ruins of Tyuonyi (QU-weh-nee) village—

originally a 3-story ring of sandstone rock debris exceeding 400 rooms.

From a distance we saw several families poking through the cavates, chipped out of porous rock.

We soldiered on, beyond the remnants of the Long House…

lined with protected petroglyphs,

and imagined what it once looked like…

when all that remains are chiseled-out rooms,

once hidden behind adobe walls.

We took the trail extension in anticipation of climbing to the Alcove House…

but Leah chose to sit this one out.

The climb was steep and narrow, and the ladder rungs were on fire from baking in the sun all day.

While Leah enjoyed the shade beside Frijoles Creek, I had an aerie to myself with a nestled kiva,

and sculpted rooms for meditation.

Which may have prompted me to say a prayer or two before my looong climb down.

Blue Hole

July 1, 2021July 1, 2021Posted in Adventure, Airstream, Entertainment, family, geology, landscape, language, Nature, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Route 66, Russell's Truck and Travel Center, Santa Rosa6 Comments

With Amarillo behind us, we were finally on our way to Albuquerque to visit Leah’s family. Earlier in the week, Leah had made preliminary plans with Carrie, her daughter to take the grandkids to Santa Rosa, NM to visit a popular water park the day after our arrival.

But not so fast!

We were driving on I-40 West with very light traffic, and had just crossed the border into New Mexico when a couple in a pickup pulled along side me and grabbed my attention. The woman in the passenger seat looked concerned. She mimed a circle with her finger while shaking her head, and pointed in the general direction of our Airstream before the pickup sped away.

“Oh, shit!” I grumbled. “There’s trouble back there.”

“What do you mean, trouble?’ Leah asked.

“I don’t think she was playing Charades…hopefully nothing serious” I answered.

I slowed to a crawl–pulling off the road to inspect our rig.

I hadn’t anticipated another blowout (see https://streamingthruamerica.com/2019/06/12/blowout/).

The original set of Goodyear Marathons looked nearly new upon general inspection, and I‘d only pulled the Airstream about 5,000 miles since starting out on our Great American Road Trip. Thank goodness for tandem axles. As for the blown tire, the tread was gone and the cord plies were shredded, but miraculously, the wheel and wheel well were still intact.

“We need a new tire,” I sighed. “The one that used to be there looks like spaghetti.”

“So now what? We’re in the middle of Bumfuck,” she panicked.

“Not exactly,” I tried to reassure.

“And on a Sunday to boot!” she continued.

“You’re not helping,” I advised.

Analyzing our location on GPS, I responded, “It’s showing that we passed a truck stop the moment we crossed the border.”

I called Russell’s Tire Center and learned that Cole was on-call. He agreed to meet us at the shop in half an hour. He also advised that he would be charging his travel time back to me at $95/hr. in addition to the emergency repair at $95/hr. It was a different kind of highway robbery, but I was out of options since I lacked the tools to lift a 7500 lb. trailer.

“There! It’s arranged,” I crowed. “We just need to get to the next exit and head back.”

“How are we gonna do that without a tire, genius?” she asked.

“Slowly and carefully,” I suggested.

It seemed like forever, but we limped along at 20 mph with flashers flashing until we approached the next westbound exit. Ironically, Jennifer (our GPS voice) routed our return along Route 66–parallel to I-40 West–as if she knew that slow-going was ill-suited for Interstate travel.

We got to Russell’s first and waited for nearly an hour when Cole arrived. He got straight to work. With the wheel off, I discovered what became of the tread. Luckily, no harm was done to the shock or the brake system.

Feeling insecure about using the spare under the Airstream, I opted for a new tire. When all the dust had settled, we were finally on our way to Albuquerque after a 2-hour layover and $300 in expenses. But I was feeling weary from the incident and wary behind the wheel, knowing that the other tires needed to be replaced.

90 minutes of drivetime took us to Santa Rosa, NM.

“Wait a minute! Aren’t we scheduled to drive here tomorrow with Carrie and the kids?” I asked.

“That’s right,” confirmed Leah.

“But we’re already here. Why on earth should I drive another 90 minutes to Albuquerque, only to return here the next day with your family,” I reasoned. “Why can’t they meet us here instead? They could even camp with us tonight if they want. Besides, I’m exhausted from this expensive mini-adventure.”

“Not a bad idea, Einstein,” she quipped.

Good News! Google confirmed that 2 walk-in sites with services were still available at Santa Rosa Lake State Park. Jennifer navigated us to the park campground, where we looped around twice to locate the open sites as advertised. Turns out, one site was handicap reserved; the other site was reserved for camp host.

As with most self-help campgrounds, Leah put our payment in an envelope and dropped it into a paybox at the entrance kiosk. After plugging into the host site, it was a relief to finally kick back with a cold beer and a blast of A/C to melt my stress level.

But not so fast!

Two park rangers have approached Leah, and it didn’t go well. We have been evicted, unapologetically.

So we rolled back onto Route 66 and found an overnight spot at a local RV park. Leah made arrangements with Carrie, who eventually drove to meet us and spend the night car camping with Devin and Gabe outside our Airstream window.

The next day, we drove to the Blue Hole—

–ready for excitement.

When we arrived, I had this nagging feeling of déjà vu.

“We’ve been here before,” I mentioned to Leah.

“I would have remembered this place,” she disagreed.

“I’m telling you, this place is very familiar to me,” I insisted.

“Maybe you were here with someone else,” she theorized.

“Nope! You were with me, and I can prove it,” I stated emphatically.

I scrolled through the picture gallery on my phone, as if by chance…until…

“There it is!” I insisted. “We were here on October 18, 2017! And here’s the picture to prove it!”

“Congratulations! You’re right again, as usual,” Leah said without conviction.

“We never went in the water,” I said, “But that’s about to change today.”

It took some coaxing, but eventually everyone braved the 61^o F temperature…

except me. I was going for the whole enchilada.

I watched as several youngsters scrambled to the ledge 20 feet above the Blue Hole and jumped,

which was all the preparation I needed for my jump.

The water was freezing–enough to take my breath away. But at least I left with bragging rights.

P.S. After we reached Albuquerque, our Airstream got a new set of shoes…

and they fit just fine.

Soul Food for Thought–The History of Stax Records

June 9, 2021Posted in Awards, culture, Entertainment, History, museum, music, Photography, travel, video, wanderlustTagged Al Bell, Atlantic Records, Booker T and the MGs, Carla Thomas, Estelle Axton, Isaac Hayes, Jim Stewart, Memphis Horns, Otis Redding, Rufus Thomas, Staple Singers, STAX Records, Steve CropperLeave a comment

After a spin around Sun Records, Leah and I altered our orbit a couple of Memphis miles to the center of a parallel universe of talent, originally known as Satellite Records in 1957.

Inspired by the success of Sam Phillips, Jim Stewart–a banker by day and frustrated fiddler by night–decided he too could produce hit records despite no music industry experience. Upon realizing his need for professional recording equipment, he enlisted his older sister, Estelle Axton who mortgaged her home for an Ampex 350 console recorder.

In 1960, Satellite Records moved to a converted theater on McLemore Ave. and Stax Records (a fusion of their last names) was born.

Rufus and Carla Thomas recorded the new company’s first hit record, Cause I love You, in 1960…

which caught Atlantic Records’ Jerry Wexler attention and willingness to negotiate a distribution deal for all future Rufus and Carla recordings, and right of first refusal of all other Stax artists.

Steve Cropper also added to the early success of STAX.

Originally, his guitar playing fronted the Royal Spades, but Jim Stewart invited Cropper to Stax where the group was re-billed as the Mar-Keys and became the house band, playing sessions with newly signed artists as well as recording their own sounds, like Last Night, a 1961 hit.

Steve Cropper would leave the Mar-Keys to become head of A&R for Jim Stewart, but continued to play back-up sessions as needed, always a part of the Mar-Keys floating membership. One day, while awaiting a session, Booker T. stepped in for a turn on the Hammond organ, and Green Onions was instantly conceived in 1962.

The Mar-Keys had just morphed into the next Stax session band, a/k/a Booker T. and the M.G.’s,

Stax success continued when Otis Redding, driver for Johnny Jenkins’ took the microphone after Johnny’s dismal performance. Subsequently, Otis auditioned with Booker T. and the M.G.’s on accompaniment, and wowed everyone with his song, These Arms of Mine, released October 1962.

Otis Redding would become the label’s biggest star, continuing with hits: I’ve Been Loving You too Long; Respect; Just One More Day; and Try a Little Tenderness. But like Icarus, who flew too close to the sun, Otis and several members of the Bar-Kays lost their lives in a plane crash on December 10, 1967, enroute to a performance in Cleveland.

Only 6 months earlier, Otis was headlining at the Monterey Pop Festival, backed by Booker T. and the M.G.’s. At the time, he was fully aware of the opportunity and exposure. He said, “It’s gonna put my career up some. I’m gonna reach an audience I never have before.” He was 26 when he died.

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay, co-written by Steve Cropper was released one month later, and reached #1 on Billboard’s Hot 100.

In 1968, the wheels came off the Stax bus. They lost their distribution deal with Atlantic Records after Atlantic was sold to Warner Bros. Records in 1967. Warner Bros. also reclaimed the library of master tapes held by Stax, citing a clause in Atlantic’s contract that entitled them to “all right, title and interest, including any rights of reproduction.”

Adding insult to injury, Warner Bros. also reclaimed Sam and Dave, who were “on loan” to Stax from Atlantic.

And to make matters worse, the country was at war with itself after the murder of Martin Luther King, Jr. on April 4,1968 just blocks from the label’s headquarters.

With their back catalog depleted and no distribution deal, Stewart sold his shares of Stax to Gulf & Western for millions, but stayed behind to continue running the company. Enter Al Bell, record producer and songwriter, who joined Stax in 1965 as director of promotions, and became co-owner and vice-president after buying out Estelle Axton. In 1969, Bell shepherded the “Soul Explosion,” generating 30 singles and 27 albums within eight months,

utilizing house talent like the Memphis Horns (an off-shoot of the Mar-Keys) and new talent like the Staple Singers.

But musically, the resurrection of Stax records can be attributed to Isaac Hayes, the Black Moses.

In 1969, Isaac Hayes released Hot Buttered Soul, his four-song, soul-defining masterpiece which sold 3 million albums.

The Stax Museum has many alluring features and exhibits. There’s the reassembled Hoopers Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church from Duncan, Mississippi built around 1906;

there’s also a disco dance floor, that ideal for busting a move and showing your groove;

but the crown jewel of the collection has to be Isaac Hayes’ rotating 1972 peacock-blue, 24K gold-plated Cadillac.

The release of Theme from Shaft— which won an Oscar for Hayes for Best Original Song in 1971–

put Hayes in the drivers seat when it came time to renegotiate his contract…

In 1970, with the wind at their backs, Bell and Stewart repurchased Stax from Gulf & Western with borrowed money from Union Planters Bank.

In the summer of 1972, in pursuit of a wider audience, Al Bell brought an all-star revue to Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum–dubbed Wattstax–to commemorate the 7th anniversary of the Watts riots. The sold-out crowd of 100,000 fans spawned a highly regarded documentary film and a live double album of the concert highlights.

Stax archives recount the final years of Stax Records:

By 1971, Stax had grown from a family production company distributed by Atlantic Records, to a freestanding independent record company. Stax now manufactured, marketed and distributed its own recorded music in America and through licensees around the world. The racial harmonies that typified Stax’s early years was becoming an issue. Trust was an issue. Jim Stewart, producer-cum-chief executive officer was tired, disillusioned, and pushing paper instead of making records. He had not attended Wattstax. He told his partner Al Bell that he wanted out.
Change and challenge were pervasive after so much growth. One major problem became the theft of Stax property, including master tapes. Stax hired one of the country’s premiere white-collar crime investigative firms. Their search did uncover improprieties involving some employees, but Jim Stewart and Al Bell decided not to prosecute. Instead new security measures were designed and implemented at the McLemore Avenue and the Union Avenue Extended offices to specifically protect and preserve Stax masters, East Memphis copyrights and other valuable assets.
Al Bell was enjoying a Midas touch. Isaac Hayes, Johnnie Taylor, and the Staple Singers had all emerged as superstars. Rufus Thomas had entered the most successful era of his career. Albert King had broken through to the white rock album market. Mid-level artists such as Soul Children, Frederick Knight, Luther Ingram, and Mel & Tim were all hitting the charts. Bell was pushing company expansion in many different directions at once, issuing pop, rock, jazz, country, gospel, and comedy records in addition to its staple of classic soul tracks.
Though Stax thrived in the independent world, it had still not broken through in mass-market distribution venues like Sear and Roebuck. Seeking a buyer for his company’s other half, Al Bell kept that distribution goal in mind. He wound up, surprisingly, making a distribution deal with Clive Davis at CBS Records. CBS, though successful with many white acts, boasted no major black artists. “The company was” as Bell says, “larger that life white with no real knowledge of the black market.”
Stax and CBS each complemented the other’s weakness. Stax could help CBS reach the small, privately owned stores, and CBS could get Stax into huge chains. In 1972, through a complicated agreement, Bell bought Stewart’s half with money loaned from CBS. Jim Stewart, agreeing to remain with the company for five more years, received $2.5 million, up front, and millions more in payments to come.
Though the new relationship began well, a disaster occurred in May 1973: Clive Davis was fired from CBS. The deal he’d struck with Al Bell was full of nuance and personal commitment between two parties, and Davis’ replacement neither understood nor appreciated the arrangements.
Faced with a contract it felt was a mistake, CBS began systematically reducing payments to Stax for records sold, precipitating a tangle of legal battles and a shortage of operating funds. Stax was bound to CBS as its sole distributer, and could not get its product in to stores nor receive monies for records that had been sold.
To keep the company going, Stax founder, Jim Stewart secured operating loans with his forthcoming CBS payments as collateral. Going further, he gave Stax a personal loan and then personally guaranteed even more borrowed money. But CBS continued to withhold payments and Stax continued to hemorrhage.

Continuing:

By summer 1974, Stax defaulted on payments to Isaac Hayes, and was forced to relinquish the marquee artist. Around the same time, Stax gave Richard Pryor, in lieu of payment, the master tapes for his groundbreaking album That Nigger’s Crazy. Pryor took the album to Warner Brothers; it went gold and won a Grammy award. By the end of 1974 Stax had given 85 of its employees their pink slips.
Bell, Stewart, and Stax vice-president John Burton campaigned for capital to pay off both CBS and Union Planters Bank, from who, Stax had borrowed heavily. Leaving no stone unturned, they approached Saudi Arabia’s King Faisal, A tentative agreement was worked out, and Burton headed to the Middle East. Faisal was assassinated by his nephew on March 25, days before the meeting was to take place.
Stax persevered but times were increasingly turbulent. The nation itself struggled: Watergate led to President Nixon’s resignation. Recession gripped the U.S. economy. In Memphis, Union Planters Bank—which had loaned hundreds of thousands of dollars to Stax—struggled for its own economic survival.
Despite chart topping hits during late 1974 and 1975 by Stax artists including Rance Allen, Little Milton, the Staple Singers, young pop sensationalist Lena Zavaroni, Shirley Brown, Albert King, the Dramatics and others, distribution challenges perpetuated by CBS Records strangled Stax.
When Union Planters abruptly called in Stax’s loans and they were unable to pay promptly, the bank immediately and aggressively pursued the company. Stax’s daily operations were crippled. On June 8, 1975, the company basically ceased being able to pay anyone. In October, Stax officially laid off all its remaining employees. Many still continued to work for free. The battle between the bank and Stax was rancorous and bitter. Many believed that racism was the motivation which drove Union Planters pursuit while others believe that it was strictly a business decision.
For years, Stax had contributed to community efforts. In the company’s final days, the local community gave back. In latter 1975, when Stax could not pay its remaining employees, the proprietor of the College Street Sundry, Ms. Ethel Riley Flowers, regularly fed them at no charge. Merrit’s Bakery also gave food to the last employees “because,” in the words of William Brown, “she knew we didn’t have no money. These people were surviving on the love of each other. They weren’t surviving on waiting for that dollar to come around the corner. They knew it wasn’t coming!”
Unable to pay its bills, its artists, its loans, Stax was shut down on December 19, 1975, forced into receivership by an involuntary bankruptcy petition.
Union Planters Bank, that had helped Stewart and Bell buy back the company from Gulf & Western, moved to collect on personal guarantees given by Jim Stewart. He lost his fortune, his assets, and his home.
The Stax building was padlocked.
In January 1977, Stax’s assets were parceled out in a bankruptcy sale on the courthouse steps. The catalog of tapes was sold to a liquidating company, the office furniture to an auction company, and the recording equipment to an individual who hoped the magic would continue to work.
The Stax building was sold for ten dollars in 1980 to the Church of God in Christ (COGIC).

For Jim Stewart, it’s always been about the music.

He was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2002 for his important contribution to the music scene.

Start Your Engines

May 29, 2021May 31, 2021Posted in Adventure, Architecture, Entertainment, History, landscape, Photography, sports, travel, video, wanderlustTagged auto racing, Indiana State Fairground, Indianapolis, Indy 500, Mecum Auctions, Santino Ferrucci8 Comments

Motor sports awaits its biggest day on May 30, when 135,000 spectators will gather at the Brickyard for the start of the 105th running of the Indy 500. It will be the largest assembly of people anywhere for a single event since the coronavirus pandemic overwhelmed the country and the world.

Last year, the race was held without fans, but this year the Indianapolis Motor Speedway will accommodate 135,000 of 257,325 available seats, or 40% capacity. The number is staggering until the onlooker realizes that the curved rectangle is 2.5 miles long and occupies 559 acres,

with tiered grandstands reaching 7 stories on both sides of the track.

Having checked in at the Indiana State Fairgrounds for overnight accomodations,

we couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming noise coming from the nearby critter pavilions…

so off we went to follow the commotion, and found the source. Apparently, it was a tire spin-off to Mecum’s 2021 Indy Auction:

The Dodge Challenge

…an annual event that brings out the best and most coveted collector cars for bidding:

But Leah and I were in Indianapolis during the Indy 500 Practice to watch drivers rocket down the straightaways in their IndyCars at 240 mph,

in anticipation of bringing home the trophy and chugging a bottle of milk.

So off we went to the fabled racetrack, built in 1909 and mostly unchanged, until the addition of the Pagoda, completed in 2000.

Trying to track the cars as they went screaming by in a blur…

would have certainly resulted in whiplash if we continued watching with each passing lap, but thankfully, the video screen provided necessary neck relief.

And then the unexpected happened…

With 1hr 44min left in the practice session, #45 Santino Ferrucci turning too early into the #2 corner careened into the wall,

collapsing the front end of his racer.

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Out came the yellow flag…

and it was time for us to call it a day at the track.

Fortunately, Ferrucci escaped serious injury, and was taken to the hospital for observation.

He has subsequently been cleared to race on Sunday, qualifying for the 25th position in a field of 33 cars, with Scott Dixon enjoying the pole position at the start of the race.

I hope the winner likes milk!

UPDATE:

Helio Castroneves wins the Indy 500 for a record-tying 4th time, finishing ahead of Alex Palou by half a second.

Top qualifier, Scott Dixon finished 17th in the field after his car ran out of gas before his first pit stop, and Santino Ferrucci finished sixth.

Castroneves celebrated with a chilled bottle of 2% milk, but swapped that bottle out for some strawberry milk, which perfectly matched his hot pink and white fire suit and No. 6 Honda.

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