Idaho & Seattle

We were up and ready to go the next morning, bright and early. Having missed Yellowstone by a day, we were focused on finding a D3 to drown our sorrows.

Our original plan was to drive straight through to Seattle to see what they had to offer, but Jojo found a diamond in the rough along the way: Donn's Kodiak Grill, in Boise, Idaho. Not only did the restaurant look amazing, but stopping in Boise would cut the drive to Seattle in half. We checked into a hotel, washed up, and went to an early dinner.

When we sat down at the Kodiak, we noticed the wide array of costumers around us. There were leather clad bikers, dust covered a.t.v. riders, well-dressed business people, and tired travelers like us. If there's one thing Jojo and I have learned so far, it's that an eclectic group of costumers means that the food is usually good enough to pull diners from all over. Luckily, we didn't have to wait long after we ordered.

Our food was on the table before we finished our beers. Joanna ordered the Big Bear Burger: a juicy burger, topped with a smoked sausage link, all between two fluffy buns. I ate half. It was unbelievable. I ordered a pot roast steak sandwich with fried onions and chipotle mayo. It was on par with Jojo's burger. She ate half. It was unbelievable. All together, Donn's Kodiak Grill receives 5 burps. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RmLytVh90t4)

We left the restaurant convinced that nothing else Boise could offer would top those sandwiches. We went straight back to the hotel and hit the sack early; the west coast was close. We had no time to waste.

Seattle came into view around five pm; just in time for rush hour traffic. We weren't worried. To get in the Seatlle mood, I put Pearl Jam's "Vitalogy" in the cd player, turned the volume up, and headbanged through crowded freeways. It's safe to say, we knew we would enjoy Seattle just by the traffic. Unlike Philadelphia, when we needed to switch lanes, we didn't have to get out and fight the guy behind us to let us pass. Friendly traffic means happy citizens; and they were happy because they lived in such a beautiful city. The one thing we really noticed was how clean the whole city looked. There was no graffiti on buildings or trash in gutters. Public transit busses were powered by electric lines, suspended in air over every street, like spider webs. It made the air smell clean and fresh; not like the typical, bus smell that we areused to in our Northeastern cities.

We checked into our hotel, Downtown, and went to a little Mexican restaurant down the street for some dinner. With our bellies full on Mexican food, we figured we'd get into the Irish mood at a local pub called McMenamins; it was St. Patty's day after all. We ordered drinks and talked for a while with the bar tender and some of the staff. They gave us the lowdown on all the fun things Seattle had to offer. We were surprised at how friendly and accommodating everyone was. It made us feel right at home. As we were walking back to our hotel, we both commented on the overall safeness of the streets. almost everyone we passed gave us a friendly nod.

The next morning, we started early with our first Seattle D3. We drove across town, to Voula's Offshore Cafe, and settled in for a big breakfast. We were shown to a table with a view of the harbor and sat quietly, admiring the smell of hashbrowns. While we waited for our food, we went back and forth with conversations about moving to Seattle. We hadn't even been in the city for twenty-four hours, but we could already see ourselves as locals. Jojo shook with excitement when our food was delivered.

Her Greek Hobo covered the entire plate. It was an omlette with mushrooms and sausage, topped with hashbrowns and melted feta cheese. My chipotle pork eggs benedict was huge, and smothered with hollandaise sauce. when we were finished, we both agreed on three burps. The food was good, but didn't live up to its presentation. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfH_JXkVzWc)

After breakfast, Jojo and I decided to tour the Seattle Science-fiction and music museums. With both museums under the same roof, we knew we would be spending a lot of time there. We decided to do the music portion first, as Seattle was home to some of our favorite musicians.

The first exhibit featured Jimi Hendrix. It was full of his guitars, videos of his concerts, hand-written lyrics, and interviews of Jimi describing his creation process. The highlight of the exhibit was a video of Jimi playing the Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock; we had chills looking at the very guitar he played the anthem on, in a glass case right in front of us.

You could see the worn spots on the frets where he bent his strings. It was inspiring, to say the least. The next exhibit was called "Taking Aim: Unforgettable Rock 'n' Roll Photographs Selected By Graham Nash." All of the portraits were of famous musicians throughout different eras of music. From a naked John Lennon, to an airborne Elton John, to a crowd surfing Eddie Vedder, every famous photo of a musician you could think of was on display. We were in heaven.

After browsing through the music museum for an hour or two, we made a quick pass through the science fiction museum, then headed for the space needle.

This took some pretty persuasive speaking on Joanna's part, as it's a widely known fact that I absolutely despise heights. As we shot up the glass elevator, I had to question the structural integrity of a giant concrete disk, on top of three metal pillars. But it didn't matter at that point. We were seconds away from stepping out onto the viewing platforms to get a three hundred and sixty degree view of the Seattle skyline.

My fears calmed a bit when we stepped outside and saw the beautiful view. On two sides we were surrounded by mountain ranges. On another side, the harbor, opening up to the Pacific Ocean.

Then there was the Seattle skyline, with Mount Rainier looming large in the distance.

After a million photo ops, we went back inside and had a couple of cocktails while we soaked up the view.

We knew we couldn't stay up there forever. It was sixty-five degrees and sunny, and we had a million things to do. after leaving the space needle, we boarded the monorail right outside, and rode it into heart of the city.

As we walked the streets en route to the Pike Place market (where they throw fish around like hotcakes) we were overwhelmed with young people holding a hundred forms of protests for a hundred different issues. Everywhere we turned, angry youth had something to tell us. As we strolled the market, vendors came up with interesting ways to sell you their fresh fruits, fish, vegetables, jewelry, music demos, musical performances, poetry readings, and just about everything else you could think of. None of them forced anything upon people. If someone liked what they heard or saw, they stopped and talked to the vendors; If not, they were left alone. It allowed for a pressure free and friendly experience. We stopped for a while to watch an old man play the blues on his acoustic guitar before he switched over to Gnarles Barkley's "Crazy." It wasn't to bad, so we stayed a little bit longer, then found a quiet little chowder cafe, overlooking the harbor, where fishing boats unloaded their daily catch.

We had a small lunch of fresh salmon chowder and clam chowder, with a couple of mid-day cocktails. It tasted like the salmon had just been caught a few hours before. It set the seafood bar pretty high, but we both knew the rest of Seattle would have no problem meeting the standard.

After lunch, we searched around the market area for a pawn shop. I forgot my guitar at home, so i wanted to treat myself to a pawned guitar; something cheap that we could beat up, or carve. We found something simple and cheap, and started walking back to the hotel; debating our dinner options. Those debates stopped when one of those activist-hipster-sandaled-beard-guys crept up on us. His mission was tiresome, condescending, and unreasonable. After following us for a block, he noticed his annoyance on our faces; a lot of self-restraint.

We decided we needed another D3 for dinner. A strange and small place called Bizarro's Italian Cafe. The decor of the restaurant was creepy and bizarre. Upside down Rickshaws and kitchen sets, and a miniature piano stage for mid-meal concerts by oversized players. It made us laugh.

The featured dishes were Linguine and Clams, and Elk Bolognese. Jojo had the clams; it was a sultry affair. Complete with pancetta and roasted jalapenos, Joanna said that she felt as if she was cheating on her mom. She had never ordered Linguini and Clams in any other restaurant, ever. In her eyes, her mother's was truly the pinnacle recipe for the dish, and had never thought to bring a third party into the mix. With guilt-ridden eyes, she sipped the sauce slow. The excitement on her face forced me to taste. I no longer needed my Elk Bolognese. The game was up; the word was out: This was the greatest Linguine and Clams, we had ever eaten. Five Burps.

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRCzOmol7RI)

Slacking in San Fran

We know we have a lot of updating to do, but Brandon feels that we should be enjoying ourselves on the western leg of our trip. That's his way of saying, "I don't feel like doing this right now." Since, I cannot do this thing myself, our tale of Idaho, Seattle and San Francisco will have to wait a day or two. Type to you soon :)

Joanna

.........and Brandon, who doesn't know where he is right now due to a couple of Glenlevits. He also doesn't know I am writing this right now either. It will be our little secret.

South Dakota and the Badlands

After driving XDMLX into a ditch, a long night's sleep was just what we needed. But you can't always get what you want; not even on your birthday. Jojo was up before the sun, eager to get back on the road to make up for lost time; or so I had assumed. As we headed out of town, and West to Mount Rushmore, Jojo flashed me a mischievous smile. She had something up her sleeve. As she dictated directions, I quickly realized that my shortened sleep would most definitely be in vain. I could only laugh when she revealed our destination: Corn Palace; Mitchell, South Dakota's only attraction.

I guess she figured we needed a little comic relief. She was right. Corn Palace was exactly what you would think it would be: a palace, made entirely of corn. As funny as it sounds, it's detailed murals, made from corn husks, kernels, and stalks, were truly impressive. It made us smile the rest of the day.

The drive to Rapid City was nerve racking, to say the least. With last night's events still fresh in our minds, I white-knuckled the wheel, as we maneuvered XDMLX over the unplowed highway. After the most intense four hours of driving I've ever experienced, we pulled into Rapid City, eager to get our day started. We had a birthday lunch at the O.G. (Olive Garden), and made the trek to Mount Rushmore with tumultuous stomachs.

Towards the end of our ascension, Washington's stoney head came into view, and Joanna voiced her voiced her disappointment. "Not that it isn't impressive," she said, "I just thought it would be bigger." Her views changed once we walked through the flag path, and onto the

viewing platform.

We stood alone, in the silence of the Black Hills, staring, in amazement, at the beautiful sculpture. Apparently, March isn't exactly tourist season in South Dakota, and the lack of any other patrons made us feel as if we were granted our own, private viewing of the mountain. Adding to the serenity of the situation, the high altitude seemed to absorb every sound, and every breeze, allowing us to view the Presidents in total silence and stillness. The eternal expressions of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln seemed to smile upon us, in the warmth of the setting sun; the perfect blend of mother nature and human manipulation. It was truly breathtaking.

Adding to the drama of the moment, I watched as a man knelt at his girlfriend's feet, at the base of the mountain. I nudged Jojo's arm to get her attention. She already had the camera fixed on his proposal. As the couple hugged, Jojo and I cheered in congratulations. The man pumped his fist, knowing he was truly B.O.C. (ballin' outta control).

Our second day in South Dakota began with another mountain carving: Crazy Horse.

A monument to represent the culture and traditions of all North American Indians, It is the largest mountain carving in the world. To give everyone an idea, each face on Mount Rushmore is approximately 60 feet high.

Crazy Horse's head alone, can fit four Mount Rushmores inside of it. Crazy Horse, who was a respected warrior of the Oglala Lakota, led his people in battles against U.S. forces in the Wyoming, Montana, and Dakota territories (most notably against General George A. Custer, on the Little Bighorn), and was eventually murdered while under arrest, in September, 1877 by a U.S. soldier. In 1948, sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski was commissioned by Lakota Chief Henry Standing Bear to create a sculpture of Crazy Horse to show the American people that, they too, had heros amongst their people. It was agreed upon that the sculpture should be carved into a large mountain, deep in the Black Hills, with Crazy Horse perched high upon his horse, and with an arm outstretched, pointing his earthen finger towards the mountainous forests of the Black Hills; the ancient lands of the Lakota. This theme stems from a quote Crazy Horse made when asked by U.S. officials, "Where is your land now?" He responded, "My land is where my dead lie buried."

Ziolkowski dedicated the rest of his life's work to sculpting the mountain. When he died in the 1980's, his ten children, all of whom were born on the mountain, continued his legacy by vowing to finish the sculpture themselves. On multiple occasions, the family has refused millions of dollars of federal and state funding for the project, claiming that it wouldn't be right to stand with their hands out to the very government that slaughtered the people they are trying to honor. It was refreshing to see people stick to their principles, regardless of the decades of hard work they will have to endure. We can only hope that, in twenty years or so, we have the chance to see the mountain again, in its final form; with a hopeful Crazy Horse, marking the land of his fallen kin.

Our next stop was Jewel Cave, the second longest cave in the world. It had just recently been expanded to one hundred and fifty miles. Jojo's excitement level was through the roof, mainly because she was convinced that we would be able to harvest jewels straight from the cave with little rock hammers. She was mildly disappointed when the park ranger announced that visitors were not even permitted to touch the formations with their hands, as a single drop of human body oils could stop formations from growing for the next ten thousand years. Even though she wasn't able to wear an illuminated hardhat, she still seemed to be excited, especially when the park ranger announced that he was going to shut off all of the lights, and let us sit for a while, in 100% darkness, three hundred and fifty feet below the surface. Standing quietly in the darkness, Jojo and I considered hiding from the park Ranger, just to see how he would respond if, when he turned on the lights, two of the ten members of the tour were missing. We quickly dismissed that thought after recalling how angry he became when he saw a little boy kicking rock formations like field goals.

Putting our caving days behind us, we headed to the town of Deadwood for a little taste of the real wild west. When we galloped into town, we figured we'd mosey on down to the Gem Saloon, to rustle us up some grub. We were a bit confused when we found ourselves fighting through crowds of drunk people, as we walked down the casino and saloon lined Main street. At the restaurant, we were shown to a table, upstairs by a window, overlooking the crowded street. We found out that the drunken mob was celebrating St. Patrick's Day a few days early, and all of the drinking was building up to a parade later on that evening. After an amazing meal of prime ribs, rib-eyes, and buffalo chile, we decided we better get downstairs and start drinking, if we planned on hanging around the town for a while. In the true spirit of the old west, Jojo decided to get a little bit of gambling in, while I chose to pound whiskeys at the bar. Now, properly intoxicated, we headed through the crowds to see a few famous sights. We found The Number 10 Saloon, and ordered more drinks.

This place wasn't just your average bar. "Wild Bill" Hickok, one of the most feared gunmen in the west, was murdered in the back section of the building. We stood in the exact spot where Jack McCall shot Wild Bill in the back of his head during a poker game; a pretty rash decision, considering Wild Bill's reputation. Hickok was revered all over the western territories for his ability to fire faster and more accurately, with both hands, than any other gun-hand of the times. It was also widely known that Hickok's speed on the draw was contributed to the trademark "butts-forward" position of the guns on his hips. Unfortunately for him, no man, regardless of reputation,or speed of hand can outdraw someone if he's sitting with his back to a door. McCall simply opened, fired, and ended the legend of Wild Bill Hickok.

We joined the festivities out on the street just in time to see the irish marching band pass by. It was time to be heading back, so we hit the old dusty trail.

Early Sunday morning, we were up and ready to make the eight hour drive to Wyoming. At the gas station, I went to fill the wiper fluid, only to feel it pouring out on my feet. The I-90 crash was finally catching up to us. Concerned, we headed back to the hotel and asked around about mechanics. "On a Sunday?" was a common response. So another night in South Dakota it was. Not much to talk about here; We ordered a bedside buffet from Ruby Tuesdays, and ate our worries away.

The next morning, we dropped XDMLX off for a check-up. The crash bent a few things around, and it was a good thing we had it looked at. A few hours later we heading West again, through Wyoming, en route to Yellowstone National Park.

On the way, we stopped by America's very first national monument: Devils Tower.

The picture should speak for itself here. Although impressive, it was simply an odd shaped mountain in the middle of miles of flatland. While driving back to the main highway, we ran into a type of traffic that we definitely aren't used to back in Jersey: a rancher's entire herd of cattle. Massive, delicious looking, cows moseying across the highway without a care in the world. As they eventually dispersed, we were given a wave of gratitude by the rancher on horseback, and we were free to pass at last.

We arrived at our hotel in Yellowstone around midnight. We grabbed a few brochures from the lobby and decided to call and book a reservation on a snow-tour bus for the next morning:

"Hi, I was wondering if I could book a reservation for two on the tour tomorrow," Jojo asked, surprised someone answered the phone at such a late hour.

"I'm sorry, we closed at 6 pm."

"Oh I know ma'am, I was interested in making a reservation for tomorrow," Jojo said, thinking accents were clouding the issue.

"I'm sorry, but we closed today at 6 pm."

"I understand that ma'am, It's TOMORROW i'm interested in."

"No, no. We closed today, Monday, March 15th, at 6 pm, for the season. The whole park is closed."

Jojo hung up the phone and turned to me.

"Sooooo, I hear Idaho is really nice."