US50 - Washington DC to San Francisco in 13 days

[Paolo99]

We awake several times during the night in the Hotel Nevada. There are dogs howling and drunks yelling. And that's just in our room.
It's not a particularly restful night, especially as an inebriated local informed us that our room was haunted by a con artist. Didn't bother me but Donna's quite thrifty - she is an Essex girl after all.

After our restless night we're glad that the hotel restaurant is serving excellent FC [full cholesterol] breakfasts. My food comes first so Donna starts licking her arm for salt. Finally her roast cow arrives. She even uses a knife and fork. While re-filling our cups with coffee the waitress asks us where we're from. Donna looks up impatiently from gnawing at one of the cow's hind legs. I tell the waitress, "England." Then it happens. One of those moments you hear about but never believe will happen to you.

The waitress responds thus: "Cool, what language do you speak over there?"
We both look at each other. Donna drops the leg in shock. Is she joking?
From the vaguely inquisitive look on her face it appears not.
"Er, English," I reply.
"Wow, really? I thought you spoke English real good."
Better than you do, I thought, perhaps a little uncharitably.

We wander around Ely for half an hour or so taking pictures of the murals. It's a nice little town. On our way West Donna spots the "US-50 - The Loneliest Highway" sign and takes perhaps 4,567 frames.

Then begins another fantastic drive which earns the US-50 the loneliest road sobriquet. This part of Nevada is beautiful and huge and full of nothing. Absolutely astounding.

Then we get to Eureka. Before we embarked on this road trip we'd earmarked one hotel that we really wanted to stay in - the Jackson House Hotel in Eureka. When we'd called to reserve a room we got the Best Western down the road telling us that it was shut. I was, as we Cockneys say, gutted. It's owned by Jeff Bartley, the same man who owns the Best Western. I tried to see Jeff to have a chat but he was in Alaska. Likely story.

Anyway, we crept in to see the place as there were some very friendly guys performing some maintenance. It's a terrific old-style hotel, with real class. The bar itself must be 100 years old. We find out it's for lease. We discuss leasing it and setting it up as an upscale getaway boutique hotel. Then we remember. I'm a writer and Donna's a photographer. Neither of us has any knowledge of the hospitality business whatsoever. It was a brief but delightful dream.

We continue West. Suddenly the road is carpeted with weird brown insects. What the hell are they? Kamikaze crickets? Mile after mile of them just sitting in the road. We stop off at some petroglyphs although I've forgotten where. Out of the car all is still and calm. We are utterly alone. It's spinetingling. Then Donna's stomach rumbles. Uh-oh. Better get a move on.

We find food at either Austin or Cold Springs, I really can't remember which [the town was on a hill]. We find the loneliest phone which is adjacent to the buggy-infested Sand Mountain and the dried up Carson Lake and airbase. Donna has a brief reverie which includes Tom Cruise and a fighter jet. We spend some time just watching the pilots horse around in the sky, as though they were just riding bikes.

We head toward Lake Tahoe and find lodging by the lake. Bed.

The highlight of the next day is Lake Tahoe and me joining the Lake Tahoe Bear League. I'm the only English member. Still am actually. The drive down from Lake Tahoe becomes increasingly traffic-ridden and I find myself yearning for Nevada again. I think it might be my favourite American state. Well, it's certainly in the top two with Montana. The drive is now boring. We're nearing San Francisco and the end of our 3,400 mile road-trip. We feel sad and vow to do another next year. We're totally hooked.

[lhuff]

The waitress responds thus: "Cool, what language do you speak over there?"
We both look at each other. Donna drops the leg in shock. Is she joking?
From the vaguely inquisitive look on her face it appears not.
"Er, English," I reply.
"Wow, really? I thought you spoke English real good."
Better than you do, I thought, perhaps a little uncharitably

I'm guessing the looks on y'alls faces were similar to the ones on mine and my sister's faces when asked about speaking French at home. What?! Now Craig (UKCraig) can testify that I have a very redneck/Southern accent. How the heck they thought I could switch to French from that accent when at home, I don't know. Oh, this was in Upstate New York, not even a foreign country.

I'm almost sad that these daily installments are almost over. I've enjoyed logging in everyday and reading. I hope that you have a large backlog of trip tales to regale us with.

Laura

[Paolo99]

I'm guessing the looks on y'alls faces were similar to the ones on mine and my sister's faces when asked about speaking French at home. What?! Now Craig (UKCraig) can testify that I have a very redneck/Southern accent. How the heck they thought I could switch to French from that accent when at home, I don't know. Oh, this was in Upstate New York, not even a foreign country.

I'm almost sad that these daily installments are almost over. I've enjoyed logging in everyday and reading. I hope that you have a large backlog of trip tales to regale us with.

Laura

Thanks for your kind words, Laura. I've undertaken a few trips [mostly solo] but only two on which I kept a daily diary [you won't be surprised to learn that the ultra-efficient Donna is to thank for that]. The other one was a totally random road trip from Austin TX, to San Antonio, TX, via Nebraska.
I might have a go at writing that up this week.

And we'll be heading your way at the start of June. I've been to New Orleans three times and found it rather dispiriting but I've never spent much time in Cajun country, despite cooking a mean jambalaya. I'll have to remedy that in June.

[lhuff]

New Orleans is a great city to visit but I didn't like living there at all. Long story, but the pollution finally got to me so badly that a doctor told me the only cure was to move. That was my final straw. I was back in Shreveport within a month. There was a good amount of homesickness involved as well, but that was the final straw.

I actually live in the northern part of the state where Louisiana meets Texas and Arkansas. But, I've lived in New Orleans and done extensive travelling within the whole state. I'll be glad to answer any questions that you have.

Laura

[Paolo99]

So, do you live anywhere near Lake Providence?

[RoadDog]

DAYS 1 -3
Off in the morning towards the Ohio River scenic byway. Really lovely drive. Stopped off at Madison, Indiana. We could live here. Really special town, with a vaguely bohemian feel and a thriving downtown. [I later e-mail the local newspaper's editor asking if he has any positions available - the rude beggar doesn't even acknowledge my correspondence] Head off back towards US-50 through beautiful farm roads. Rejoin US-50 at Seymour. Pleasant rolling farmland all the way.

We were headed for Lawrenceville, Illinois, which turned out to be a slightly down-at-heel town with a Mexican restaurant selling gallons of margarita for about $1. We overindulge and end up with some locals in a bar drinking to the imminent incarceration of one of our fellow revellers' brothers. I am asked to say a few words in tribute to a convicted felon who I have never met. Surreal.

MORE TO COME SOON

That Madison is one of the neatest towns I've ever been in. I've also driven the length of US-50 in Illinois. Didn't notice that place with the cheap margaritas, unfortunately.

[Paolo99]

That Madison is one of the neatest towns I've ever been in. I've also driven the length of US-50 in Illinois. Didn't notice that place with the cheap margaritas, unfortunately.

Yeah, I really quite miss Madison, which is a bit odd. And as for missing the margaritas place, I wish we'd missed it too!