Jax Scouting Trip

It was supposed to be a trip to sunny Florida. Yeah, right. What a laugh!

We left Sacramento in a cold fog of sunrise, thinking we'd be on vacation. Amy's mother even reminded her to bring a bathing suit. We arrived just after a rainstorm, waking up to grey and black puffy overcast blobs in the sky. Fortunately, they did clear bt late morning, and we were off to meet Rebecca, the realtor assigned to us, whom we would wear out. (photo)

Over three and a half days we traversed the sprawling metropolis seven or eight times, adding 400-450 miles of wear to Rebecca's tires. We got to see and love a GPS unit in action; now we are addicted! Jacksonville, a.k.a. "Jax" has no grid at all, and lots of diagonal highways that merge to cross the river at four different junctions, then spread out again to follow the river's frontage, bending spastically (spelling?) to adhere to river views.

From mansions to decrepid bungalows, we saw it all, (we think.) The city burned to the ground in 1901. The first rebuilt district, SPRINGFIELD, is quasi-Victorian, previously abandoned and now in the midst of a six-year old renovation, much like the Western Addition of SF we used to live in. Unbelieveably intricate craftsmanship is hard to replicate. Some have tried and succeeded, while others have just tried. But an historic society has kept the bulldozers at bay, and this area could well anchor downtown's revival. (photo)

Golf communities and McMansions abound, the offal of the '90s and the '00s construction fever. Predictably sterile and isolated by choice from any nugget of culture, like diners. (no photo needed)

The downtown's AVONDALE district reminded us of the EastBay's craftsman homes, and the neighborhoods offer brief restaurant/clothing shop clusters, like College Avenue or Solano Street. Very charming, and walking distance from most residences, this area was culturally out number one choice. However, the 2 cats and 2 dogs kept our options limited to the degree where it just wouldn't work. (photo)

Sooooooo, it appears we will live at THE BEACHES, a string of Atlantic Ocean beach communities dating to the turn of the century. We'll be in a new house on a dead-end street, with a yard, a side yard and an undeveloped lot next door, so it feels like a lot of space. And a half mile to the actual Ocean. (photo) We expect to sign the lease today by email.

Completing the Beach image, we'll have to get "other" bikes, beach cruisers, with baskets and rubber pedals for our flip flops. Surf boards may be too large for a bike!

Being the South, fried food appears impossible to avoid... (I hope our trainer Suzanne doesn't see this.) We did work out and walk in the early mornings, (in freezing conditions in Florida!) but I don't think we erased the stain of fried food. But we did give it a good try and enjoyed some scenic walks downtown. (photo)

A mad dash to the airport got us there on time, and we flew the first leg to Atlanta. Of all the days, this evening was the storm-of-the-decade engulfing Atlanta! Delta, our airline, was already that morning announcing flight cancellations. At 7pm we boarded, then got stuck on the tarmac in a line of refugee planes. We were there two hours until we de-iced, but the engine had frozen in that tine. The airline crew had to drive out a machine to "jump-start" one of our jet engines, (not good thing to think about.) We were approaching the "three hour rule" whereby a plane on the tarmac must return after three hours so passengers are not sitting on the plane for an indefinite period. By then, the plane was again covered in snow and ice, so we had to be de-iced all over again, with the clock ticking. We made it with ten minutes to spare. (photo)

Snow had fallen about an inch every 30 minutes, and the flakes grew to the size of poker chips. We did take off, and the amount of snow being sucked into the jet was unbelieveable. We were the last plane out of Atlanta that night... If we had been grounded, we would have expected to have to stay there another two days.

Sierra Snow !!

Time can cause one to fee like a sloth. At least I believe that. I've lived up here three and a half years, yet today is the first time I've been in real snow. Just in time to leave California for a less likely snow environs: Florida...

Yeah, Florida. There goes my hard-won status as a hill-climber in the cycling club. Just when I've acclimated to dry-heat and brown-tinted summers here, the ever-present panic of wildfire in summer and the bott-grabbing mud of winter slop in the pastures, we're moving.

But we'll look at it as an adventure. Gators, and maybe some surfing, since we'll be on the coast. And Amy's already calling me her fiancee. (She HAS to, to give me official status!)

So as a gesture to the California we'll be missing, I went with Ian's family to see snow and slide around in saucers and pelt snowballs at his innocent -- or not so innocent -- kids... and while I was up there. I wandered off to snap some pictures, though all I brought was my cell phone.

The Sierras are so beautiful!

Time Warp in Minneapolis !!

Lana and I shivered through a cold pre-Christmas in Chattanooga, some record-breaking chills including the evening I arrived and drove through a spontaneous ice storm. Ice coated the entire car, including the windshield wipers, which sounded like "swish-thud!, swish-thud!"

That night, after a long transit across country for me and some exhausting anticipation on Lana's part, we were deep in slumber and woken suddenly at 3 am by: A FIRE ALARM! We had to evacuate the hotel in the bitter cold. Luickily, Lana had new warm pjs!

We took it slow, and even walked the next day instead of drove to our usual muffin spot, where we invented several card games... a good start to the day!

I had shiped ahead of time a number of presents, so Lana was able to pick a few each morning, and even a few at night, making the most of a Christmas tradition away from home. In the evenings we had popcorn and watched movies like "School of Rock," and "Huckleberry Finn."

When I left we both cried a little, but we remember an excellent visit. I told her Amy and I are moving to Florida, so I'l be able to see her more often, (becauseI can drive.) She smiled and said that sounded really good to her!

So the long trip back to California began by driving to Nashville airport (2.5 hours), where the outbound plane was delayed 1.5 hours. So I got a beer. When we landed in Minneapolis, it was a whiteout, and incoming planes were delayed in holding patterns. A 9:40 departure time drifted to 10:10, then 10:30. then 10:55, then 11:30. When the pilots finally landed, we cheered, but quieted when we learned the stewerdesses had been diverted to Omaha, due to weather. Departure moved to 12:25. Finally some tired-looking stewardesses were lured to do double-duty and walked by our area to cheers, though they didn't smile.

I took some snapshots of the heavy snowfall as they got the plane ready. At about 12:45 we boarded, then sat still in a weird car-wash of de-icing fluids. I've never witnessed that before. This took almost 45 minutes. Meanwhile, the winds were blowing and the snow continued to fall at an increasing rate. I thought i saw ice re-form on thewings. But we launched, successfully, right into the snow soup, and I thought I felt the plane struggle, but kept my thoughts positive.

We vertically cleared the snowstorm, and flew into the jetstream, landing in Sacramento at about 250 am, a plane of survivors with universally dry, red-rimmed eyes, with no coffee in sight...

Trucksicle !

You'll never believe this is the warm sunny South!

With this "trucksicle" in the background, it certainly is hard to believe...

Not exactly the warm welcome I expected, says Brian;

Lana says it is unusual, too. And her zipper was stuck open!

At least we had a warm hotel to go to...

it must be warm if there's a fire,

which, apparently there was at 2:30 in the AM because

a whoopin' and a screetchin' came upon us,

and while Lana was sure it was just a dream, or Brian's alarm clock too early,

it was an emergency.

So out in the street we were, in pajamas, on ice,

some people were even barefoot. Luckily, Lana stayed warm in new owl pajamas.

The firemen had cool knee patches, but not as nice as Lana's pajamas.

So we made up for the night alarm by sleeping til 10:30 this morning!

BBBRRRRR!

This morning I crossed the threshhold into insanity. In case, there was any lingering doubt, this morning erased that. I got up at 6:30 to ride with the Sierra Foothills club. We met above snow level and rode beginning -- and ending -- in 34 degrees. Because the storm ended24 hours ago, we avoided Colfax. Icy roads and all.

But it was cold enough this morning, I foolishly showed up with half-finger gloves, but luckily Larry lent me full finger gloves. My old frostbite reanimated in fingers and toes, as expected. But I didn't realize that my cheeks felt like they would just peel off. Beginning our ride with a downhill at a safe 25-30 miles an hour, the wind chill broughgt the temps down close to zero. And in the shade.

With each turn, though, the environs revealed more sunshine, crisp clean air and sedate farmsteads. These, scattered along the hillsides, is what the Foothillsare all about. What a glorous way to begin the day, even if it involved a little pain!

The ride wasn't terribly long, but we climbed, descended, spun, cornered and did all the fun stuff one can look forward to on a bikeride. Thanks, SFCYCLISTS !

Yo-Sem-It-E

We did it! Took the time, made the big drive. And had loads of fun! We found a great little B and B near Mariposa, drove each morning along the torrent that is the Merced River, and entered the tourist-filled park. Besides the people, the park was, uh, respendent. (I'll look at that spelling later...)

And Lana proved herself a formidable photographer!

The valley floor was lush, and the greens were very saturated. The sky was crystal blue. Like a picture book. We even saw some nice deer, although too close to the road for comfort.

On our one full day we hiked to not one, but TWO waterfalls. And they were gushing, not just flowing. Lana slept well -- ah, "rested her eyes" -- in the car on the way back to Mariposa!

After puff-pancake breakfast and fruit platters the next morning, we went back into the park. One last look around and dipping our feet in the river.... and WHOOSH! Lana slipped and fell in the icy water and let out a scream that rebounded off the trees in the pine forest around us. We hustled her to the car and held up a towel as a changing room. We soon had a story we could laugh about.

INTERMISSION....

Just returned from Yosemite, where the water was still running strong. Very nice, except for all the people and litterbugs and animal feeders.

That adventure follows very soon, but in the meantime, here are some swimming pics since the summer havs been relieved with water-playing-around-time.