The Writes of Passage

I began my final week of the road trip feeling especially soothed and transcendent thanks to all of last week’s spiritual beauty. So imagine the jarring experience of then driving into Salt Lake City and encountering a massive collection of intensely Mormonistic sculpture art.  At least that’s what Atlas Obscura recommended. Obscura indeed. Definitely not as transcendent, or at least not in the same way. Though you could argue perhaps still spiritual.

I’d planned to stay in Salt Lake City overnight, but the sight of all the heavy handed Latter-Day Saints influence made it hard to get excited about seeing the rest of the city. But I decided this was my trip and I could do what I liked with it. So I just hopped back on the highway and continued down to Moab one night early.

Plus it was quite nice to wake an easy two miles from the Arches park entrance the next day. Such a magnificent national park full of stunning contradictions. A motionless monotonous Park Avenue in the desert. Balanced Rock somehow resting just off-center. All the pane-free Window Arches looking into each other.(Though I did have fun climbing on their sills.) That hike up to Delicate Arch that was anything but delicate. The Garden of Eden which actually looked quite barren and menacing. And the Devils Garden which was rather more verdant and heavenly.

The next day’s plan was Canyonlands, the land of canyons. I only visited the biggest one, the Island in the Sky, but it was a beaut (or should I say, butte?). Drove down every scenic route to get the full spectrum of beautiful views: Mesa Arch, Candlestick Tower, Orange Cliffs, Upheaval Dome, Green River, and (last but not least) the Grand View Point. And ain’t it just grand?

Even then, I finished Canyonlands faster than expected and still had half the day left. So I decided to be ambitious and try to squeeze in Bryce that same day. It was tight but I did it. Managed to drive up and down the whole Rainbow Point drive and all its breathtaking lookouts, then take in the iconic views at Bryce Point, the inspiration at the aptly named Inspiration Point, and reach the final Sunset Point in time to witness its stunning view of the sunset at the end the day. (All while eating my Mountain House meal for dinner straight out of the bag. Multitasking.) I did actually skip one, Sunrise Point. But at that point in the day, what would have been the point?

And last but certainly not least, I’d saved perhaps the very best for the very end of the whole cross-country road trip: Zion! But unfortunately the visit did not do it sufficient justice. I crammed in as many small hikes as I could do: The Grotto, Weeping Rock, and Riverside Walk.But sadly The Narrows were too flooded to see (I waded in as far as I could go), and I didn’t have the time or means to hike Angels Landing.

Must be better prepared next time. And there will be a next time, coz it looks awesome!

But for now, it’s time to bring this epic road trip to an exhausting but successful end. I’m completely wiped out, mentally and physically drained, decently sleep deprived, and just generally spent. It’s gonna take another decompression vacation to fully recover from this one. So I’m likely gonna need to pause on the blogging for a bit to focus on that, and will resume when I’ve reached a solid enough state of mind and comprehension to write about all of this in more depth and deliberation.

Coming off that extra emotional last week, I was grateful for some more drone-like days of long distance driving this week. That is, until I hit my 10th consistent hour behind the wheel driving the Standing Rock National Native American Scenic Byway (say that ten times fast) and realizing I needed to cut the drive shorter than originally planned.

So I sadly did not make it the whole length of the Scenic Byway into North Dakota. I’ll have to save that state for another trip. But I did get to Mobridge, South Dakota to see Sakakawea and Sitting Bull’s monuments, as well as the Standing Rock reservation itself.

Then I drove back down to the SW foot of South Dakota and crashed so hard in yet another Walmart parking lot. Woke the next day to a fresh energy and tackled the infamous Badlands loop. 31 miles of some of the most amazing buttes, cliffs, and multi-colored spires my tired little eyes had ever seen. It actually quite reminded me of the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert, which now seemed so long ago.

After the Badlands, I tried to visit Mt. Rushmore nearby. But the weather was still so bleak and rainy, that visibility was near zero and I realized it would be a waste of my time and money. So instead I decided to learn from my recent exhaustion and take it easy the rest of the day. So I went into town, here being Rapid City, and hunkered down in a cafe for some productive work time and general life catch-up. Then I found another great Walmart right in Rapid City and slept like a log that night.

The next day, I again paced myself, only aiming to hit one major attraction – Wind Cave National Park – and then relax once again back in Rapid City. And what an attraction that cave proved to be! The most intricate cave system in the US and the first cave to be named a national park. It was truly an incredible work of natural art. Unlike anything I’d ever seen before, even in other caves. Its signature boxwork was truly out of this world, and especially knowing the story of how it was created in the first place. Such delicate detail, hardened from mineral deposits washed into the cracks of the limestone cave walls. Literally works of art that formed between a rock and a hard place. One of the most gorgeous things on this trip so far, and that’s saying something. Maybe I missed my calling as a cave explorer. I do like me some tight damp dark spaces. 😉

Bet you were wondering how long it’d take me to write something dirty. And when better than in a cave?

So many dirty jokes at once. You’re welcome.

By now, I’d been in the area for a day longer than planned and spending more time in the city itself than at nearby attractions, given my goal to take things a bit slower. So somehow, I found myself forming a sort of reluctant bond with Rapid City. This wasn’t even a city I’d originally mapped as a must-see on my route. And here I was, settling into the energy of this city more easily than so many others I’d been excited to visit. And finding some hidden pockets of cool shit where I didn’t expect, like a super cool street graffiti Art Alley.

The weather thankfully cleared up the next day, and I was able to give Mt. Rushmore a second attempt. Visibility was indeed excellent, but that’s the only thing about it that was. Mt. Rushmore itself was incredibly underwhelming. I spent all of about an hour walking the whole limited path around the base of the thing, stopping at every viewpoint to take some more nearly-identical photos of this giant rock carving too far away to see any detail anyway.

Then I decided that was enough to justify the parking fee and headed back via the gift shop. Now gift shops have been a crucial part of my road trip experience thus far. I’ve been collecting stickers and postcards – being the cheapest items on sale that I can still do something creative with later – at every single national park and key city I’ve visited. So underwhelming or not, this one was going to be no exception.

I went into the gift shop, beelined for the stickers and postcards, and chose my selection. Then I saw them. Souvenir knives in rows upon beautiful rows with custom names carved into them. Now I’m not usually one for clearly overpriced trinkets that I can easily get cheaper elsewhere. But a knife with my name carved into it. That was catering right to me.

So I go up to the rack and peruse. But something feels off about it. I look and look, turning the rack one side to the next, and I start to realize what it is. There are NO girl’s names carved in any of these knives. None of them. There are only boy’s names here. I’m getting angrier and angrier as I spin the rack around and around, studying every row for any sign of a remotely feminine sounding name. I’m sure I looked strange, muttering angrily and slowly spinning this souvenir display. But inside, I was enraged! I mean, how dare they?!

This quiet rage proved just the right fuel for the rest of my day exploring the Black Hills Forest (dotted with some ironic white birch) and then, the highlight of my day, the Devils Tower National Monument.

I felt such a warm fuzzy sensation flush through my whole body upon beholding this towering beast of sacred significance, not to mention the biggest boulder pile I’ve ever seen stacked over a hundred feet high all the way around it. I spent nearly half my time there climbing up and down that giant boulder field to my heart’s content. I could have easily kept bouldering all day long. But the Tower Trail looping around the whole igneous intrusion also must be done so I could see the big beauty up close and from all angles.

With a skip in my step and a light sweat on my brow, I drove on through the Shoshone and Bridger-Teton National Forests (with an overnight stay somewhere in the middle), building up to the headliner of the next day, the Grand Teton National Park.

And look, there was snow! I didn’t think I’d see any on this summer trip, silly me. But up here at 6,500 feet, there’s enough snow and thin air to make a girl quite faint with excitement (or is that the altitude sickness again?). I drove the full Teton Park Road from one visitor center to the other, right alongside its gloriously glaciated peaks and shimmering lakes.

After camping in the park, I made the quick 18mi hop skip jump into the south entrance of Yellowstone National Park. Now we’re over 8,000 feet!

Once again, I drove the whole loop, stopping often to explore all the amazing wonders at every turn and trailhead. From Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces to Artists Paint Pots to all the geysers at West Thumb,and at Upper Geyser Basin, and Midway Geyser Basin, and Norris Geyser Basin, and of course the infamous Old Faithful (which was honestly the least impressive). I walked around and admired each one, their “potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence.” And as each geyser’s thermal sulfuric smoke washed over me, I felt a similar warm, spiritual sensation that blessed me anew. Like burning sage, only better.

That night, I decided to treat myself to dinner, complete with amusing local beer, at the Canyon Village diner near my campsite. And I made a friend. The guy sitting at the diner bar next to me turned out to be a fellow nomad living out of his truck. We talked for hours, swapping travel stories and tips like his idea to use the space under the front passenger seat as a “wine cellar.” So clever.

I slept like a baby in my campsite that night, and enjoyed a rejuvenating shower the next morning (highly recommend that campground’s showers). Then it was on out the north entrance I went up into Montana to visit my dear friend Danny B and his little sweetie Edie in the wilderness of Hyalite Canyon. We spent a beautiful 24 hours together discussing synchronicity and our similar journeys navigating new paths and major life crossroads.

I left feeling freshly motivated in my self-exploration and the approaching end of my road trip. I had intended to have made some major life and career decisions by its conclusion, but realize now that may not be quite possible. And that’s alright. All I need to know, at any point in life, is simply what I want to do next. I don’t need to have all the rest of it figured out.

Leaving NYC and heading back across the northern half of the country, I had a hard time letting go of what I was leaving behind and getting excited about what was to come.

I’d been looking forward to Cedar Point for so long – one of my ultimate bucket list items, and once upon a time the inspiration for its own road trip. But now it seemed almost a burden, especially since I was now going to be doing it solo. I’d created a Facebook event and invited everyone I could think of who might actually come to fly or drive out and join me for just this stop. Because rollercoasters are better with friends.

But no one did. So I did it anyway, on my own. Turns out rollercoasters are also excellent solo, coz you can get on cars faster whenever there’s an empty single seat no one in front of you wants.

I drove into the parking lot, my entrance ticket and parking pass deal ready, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for the day. It’d been a long drive from NYC and I was tired, cold, and lonely.

But the moment I hit the drop on my first rollercoaster of the day, everything changed. I remembered how much I LOVE rollercoasters! More than that, these coasters were igniting and inspiring me beyond my wildest dreams. They are truly the best I’ve ever ridden.

The world’s 2nd tallest Top Thrill Dragster (1 of only 2 with a 400+ feet drop), the revolutionary “winged” Gatekeeper, the classic Magnum XL-200 (the first to start the global Coaster Wars back in ’89), the iconic Millennium Force, the legendary Maverick, the extreme-dropping Valravn, the rickety wooden Gemini, the equally whiplash-inducing Rougarou and Raptor,

and 2018’s “best new ride” Steel Vengeance, which seriously earned that title. Hands down my favorite.

Altogether, it was like a religious experience that only a true adrenaline junkie can have. It forever changed my relationship with rollercoasters. Elevated it. I found an even freer, deeper way to experience them by truly letting go and letting myself fully “fly.” I’m talking hands up the entire ride, no fear, letting my body rise and fall naturally with the rhythm of the coaster car as we flew down the track together. My arms outstretched going around every flip and corkscrew, imagining this must be what the characters in Harry Potter feel like on their broomsticks.

I no longer felt my stomach leap into my throat with that first huge drop. Instead, I embraced the drop, every drop, and leaned into it with all my heart. It makes such a difference. Instead of fear (however thrilling), I felt a flood of joy and lightness flow through my body as it dropped, swooped, and rose through the air. I grinned like an idiot through every turn, and giggled uncontrollably every time we pulled back into the loading area. I must have looked like a crazy person to the others riding next to me. But I couldn’t care less. I was having the time of my life.

This mind-blowing experience catapulted me onward to Cincinnati, a stop I’d picked largely in order to catch the Burning Man exhibit that had moved on from the Smithsonian before I could get to D.C. Its next stop was the Cincinnati Art Museum. So there I went too. And it was almost better this way, seeing the wacky world of Burning Man juxtaposed with the more traditional permanent art exhibits. The museum did a beautiful job of weaving the two together, side by side throughout most of the rooms, as opposed to keeping all the Burning Man pieces quarantined in their own separate room.

After Cincinnati, I decided to take the route through Louisville and St. Louis – pausing for only a few hours in each – on my way to Topeka, Kansas. Now why Topeka, you may ask. Well it’s where my mother was born. So I promised her I’d go find her old house and childhood haunts, and take pictures for her. I found them alright, and then stumbled upon a most interesting contradiction just a few blocks away. Here lived this beautiful, heartwarming rainbow house painted with words like “love” and “equality” and “acceptance.” And then across the street in stark contrast was this imposing, infuriating church flaunting huge banners that spelled out “Fear God” and “godhatesfags.com.” It was shocking, and yet quite evocative about our country’s increasingly divisive climate. Deep thoughts.

Kansas was proving too heavy an experience for me, not only because of the heavy downpours that rained down in sheets and thundered with flashes of lightning so close to me that I shuddered while driving and barely slept wide-eyed in the Kansas City Walmart parking lot on the way through.

So onward and northward I went to seek lighter affairs in Omaha. Noticing the state of my over-bitten and outgrown manicure, I’d decided to try to find a nail salon with availability last minute. But alas, everyone was booked solid. On a Saturday afternoon. Imagine that. So instead, I spent that time walking across the country’s longest river (the Missouri River) on the country’s longest pedestrian bridge (The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge)and standing in two states at once (Iowa and Nebraska).

Not a bad alternative.

From D.C., I drove north to my beloved New York City – the perfect bookend to mark the halfway point of my journey and mirror the opposite coastal city bookend of LA. So as with LA, I gave this city a full week of my time.

I lived here in NYC back in 2015-2018, and while it was the right decision to move away at the time, it also broke my heart to leave. That city holds such a special place in my heart, and will always light me up in a way nowhere else can.

So it was amazing to not only be back in this magical city of dreams, but also spend that visit staying with my dearest bestie Adam who still lives here.We did all my favorite NYC things: Bryant Park & Central Park wanders, explored The Met Cloisters, the New York Public Library, the Union Square farmers market, lunches with industry friends and nights on the town to classic bars and restaurants, and all sorts of shows (truly NYC’s speciality) including live jazz, movie premieres, friends’ plays, and of course Broadway musicals. I felt tingles watching Kiss Me Kate on Broadway, and it reminded me how magical theatre has always felt to me. And how much I miss it. That was an interesting realization, considering I’ve been seriously considering leaving the entertainment industry altogether. Definitely rethinking that now… All the world’s a stage. And that stage is in New York City!

This city certainly gives me a “feeling of wacky comradeship somewhere in some streets,” as Kerouac described it. I have to say, it’s starting to bring me back around to an empire state of mind.

… But not yet. I’ve still got a whole second half of my road trip to go. THEN I can figure out where I want to live more permanently thereafter. But right now, I’m here “at the end of America…no more land…and nowhere was nowhere to go but back.”

And so back across I go.

Feeling especially exhausted from a particularly packed week. And I thought the previous week was too full! I left New Orleans and drove up the Natchez Trace Parkway, a truly beautiful and historic route, to Nashville.

I’d planned to stay here two days as well, including a ticket to attend the Grand Ole Opry one night!

I wasn’t sure what to expect in Nashville. I hadn’t heard much about the city before or been recommended much to do here, so instead I did what any good traveler would – I asked a local. After some museum and downtown wandering, I stopped in for a drink at the Woolworth and struck up a conversation with the bartender. He was very nice and helpful, and recommended some great spots to go for dinner and fun-but-not-too-touristy live music.

So it was that I found myself sitting at the Merchant’s restaurant bar in downtown Nashville, chatting it up with the folks sitting around me, when I hear “Becky?!” I look up to see a familiar face placing my food in front of me. Who would be calling me that? I stopped going by that nickname in college. After a stunned pause, a lightbulb went off. “Melanie?!” I couldn’t believe it. I was looking at one of my dearest high school friends, all grown up and serving me my dinner. What are the odds? I haven’t seen this girl in 17 years!

We caught up all night, chatting in between her serving rounds, and then going out for drinks after she got off work until 3am. Then we hugged goodbye, promised to stay in touch, and onward I drove to my next stop: Atlanta. I only had a few hours to spend there. So I looked up the coolest spots on Atlas Obscura (highly recommend this resource!) and hit them one by one in rapid succession: the Rainbow Crosswalks, 54 Columns art sculpture, Junkman’s Daughter store, Krog Street Tunnel graffiti walk, and then dinner at Krog Street Market, where two men sitting next to me at the bar tried to give me $100 for winning their “bet” about who had done the craziest thing in their life. Guess being a former stuntwoman has its perks (though just to be clear, I did not take the money).

After Atlanta, I drove back north to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Smoky indeed! It was so smoky and windy that day, I could barely see any of the 522,419 acres many call the “Wildflower National Park”, even from the lookout on Clingmans Dome at 6,643 feet.

Slightly disappointed, I drove on along the Blue Ridge Parkway, which was much more visibly beautiful. That more than made up for it. The beauty was so distracting (not to mention the hilarious scenic outlook names like Devils Courthouse, Big Witch Gap, French Broad, and Grassy Knob), that I didn’t notice I was starting to speed. A lot. Well much to my surprise, I got pulled over. My first of the road trip! Didn’t help that I was one of the only cars on a less-traveled road in a remote area where rangers/patrolmen have little else to do. Don’t worry though, I sweet talked my way out of a ticket. Not my first rodeo. 😉

Despite that one minor mishap, I will say the Blue Ridge Parkway’s distractingly beautiful backdrop did provide excellent inspiration for all that introspection I’d intended to do on this road trip. And the long monotonous route allowed me to switch my brain into self-talk mode. Which is to say, I talked to myself. A lot.

And so as I continued on down that picturesque parkway, I found myself making some significant discoveries and decisions about my life, my goals, and some potential next (post-road trip) adventures. I only stopped when I reached Asheville, and felt it a good pausing point for a breather, a brief wander, and (breakfast for) dinner break. What a strange pocket of hippies in the middle of North Carolina. This is the same state where I saw a billboard to this effect:

Christian: “God, why haven’t you sent us another savior?”
God: “I did, but you aborted him.”

I was so distracted by the absurdity of it, that I totally failed to get out my phone and snap a picture as I drove by. So you’ll just have to take my word for it.

After Asheville, I realized my schedule was running a tad behind. So I got on the highway and (after an overnight along the way) booked it to and through the lush green paradise that is the George Washington and Jefferson National Forest.

And then shortly thereafter, a slightly-less-brief exploration of the Shenandoah National Park. I basically just drove the incredibly scenic 105-mile Skyline Drive through the length of the park, stopping at nearly all of its 75 overlook turnouts for some gorgeous photos.

Then in the same day (because time was still tight), I made it all the way over to Washington D.C. where my dear friends Lauren and Chris were awaiting my arrival. I hadn’t seen Lauren in ages, and in that time she’d gotten married and pregnant. So a visit was long overdue. I’d set aside another two whole days of my precious road trip time for this part. And it was a thankfully quite relaxing one. Instead of rushing around trying to pack in the sites (partly coz Lauren was less mobile and partly coz I was so exhausted), we just lazed around their home, took their dog for short walks, ate home-cooked meals, and did lots of catching up.

A lovely and perfect end to a lovely but overwhelming week.

Continuing this week up I-25 through Denver into Boulder to visit another old friend. I’m starting to see what Kerouac meant calling the landscape here an “endless poem”. Such a strong sense of space to breathe and think. Will definitely need to come back and explore it more someday. Hopefully soon.Until then, it’s on down I go the entire length of Texas, top to bottom, to Austin. Spent a full day and overnight driving like the wind, like “something, someone, some spirit was pursuing [me] across the desert of life and was bound to catch [me] before [I] reached heaven.”Maybe it was the ghost of one of these crazy Cadillacs in Amarillo.Reached Austin and got to stay put for a whopping two whole days exploring the wonderful world of all things weird, uncommon, BBQ’d, booted, and batty, all while waiting for a forecasted thunderstorm that mysteriously never came. “It was a rainy night. It was the myth of a rainy night.”Stumbled upon a small show at the Museum of the Weird and somehow found myself volunteering to assist the performer who was sending electric current through his body to turn on a light bulb!Another thing Austin boasts, in my opinion, is some of the best 24 Hour Fitness gyms in the country. One in particular, because it actually had a punching heavy bag available. They never have those! That just made my day.

After Austin, I drove over to New Orleans for another two-day long visit, which still somehow seemed like not enough time. I’d reserved one of those days for the New Orleans Jazz Festival. The festival ran for two extended weekends, but I could only go one day. So naturally I chose the day Diana Ross would be performing. She sang “Ease On Down The Road” from The Wiz! So worth it!Also discovered a new favorite artist Judith Owens who covered some of my favorite songs and artists beautifully, as well as her own hilarious original hit “Secondhand Sexbot.”But the day before, I’d had perhaps a little-too-fun-filled day. It started with brunching in Jackson Square,shopping in the French Market and wandering the French Quarter,a classic cemetery tour,and epic donut lunch in the Garden District.I nearly called it an early night then, but decided to take myself out to dinner at Coop’s, where I couldn’t help but make some new friends who kept me out till all hours afterward drinking and dancing to all the great big band music of Marigny’s historic Frenchmen Street. Living my inner Kerouac. “‘I just won’t sleep,’ I decided. There were so many other interesting things to do.”

So I was understandably a little stumbly the next morning as I tried to rally and navigate the freshly inclement weather (the event parking all flooded!) to get to the festival fairgrounds. Just another humorous adventure on this wacky and wild journey of mine.

Bidding LA farewell, I first made my way to Joshua Tree National Park. But as it would turn out, I barely got to see much of it at all.

This being my first stop on an already-too-aggressive trip schedule, I’d not yet learned how much extra breathing room I’d need for food stops, bathroom breaks, navigating the more confusing routes, and (most annoyingly) the surprisingly long line of cars trying to get into the same national park at the same damn time.By the time I drove up to the Joshua Tree National Park entrance, I only had a mere hour and half left to drive in, see the park, and leave. If I took much longer, I wouldn’t make it to my next stop by nightfall and the whole schedule would be thrown off by a day. It was not a promising start.

I’d barely driven into the park itself when I had to turn around and drive back out. But I did manage to stop at one lookout point and take some photos. And it was enough to know that I definitely want to come back someday, with a lot more time to spare.

So with that in mind, I drove onward into Arizona for a quick Tucson visit to see an old friend.

Then then left Tucson like Ed Dunkel left Galatea, and drove through Saguaro National Park (71,000-acres of the country’s biggest Saguaro cacti)…on my way out and up I-10 and I-17 to the stunning red rocks of Sedona.

Spent a restorative night in a wonderfully peaceful and picturesque wild camping spot on Deer Pass Trail road, “with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.” Grabbed tea at a Sedona cafe, and then continued up and east along I-40 to the Petrified Forest National Park and Painted Desert to see 50,000 acres of rainbow colored petrified wood and fossils, hundreds of millions of years old. So much unique beauty in just a few days!

My week ended in New Mexico, finishing the drive along Route 66 (aka I-40) and up I-25 with “huge gold sunburning clouds above the desert that seemed to point a finger at me and say, ‘Pass here and go on, you’re on the road to heaven.'”

That road led to Santa Fe and my dearest oldest friends Becky, Max and their wonderfully crazy old kitty Ruckus. Definitely one of the mad ones. And I’m mad about her.

At 7,200 feet, my altitude sickness wasn’t terribly happy. But it was worth it, after an exhilarating day of chopping wood and a gorgeous Grasshopper Canyon hike, ending in a gorgeous sunset like “purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red.”

The greatest highlight of Santa Fe though was without a doubt Meow Wolf. Spent four solid hours in there unraveling its intricate, mysterious narrative that echoed of a “complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotuslands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven.” That, or aliens.

Either way, it was a most magical wondrous experience. Can’t wait till Becky and Max help launch the next iterations in Las Vegas and Denver.

Until then, I have plenty more to occupy me as I continue on this epic journey. As Kerouac says, “the road is life.”

This summer I embarked on a massive solo cross-country road trip that would take 2 months and 9,000 miles in total coverage. And I began my journey in a city I know and love well – Los Angeles – the perfect launching off point for a whirlwind excursion of the unknown.

I’ve been here in LA many times before, but I never feel like I get enough time to see everyone and do everything I love here. So it’s been nice to spend a full week packed with fun, good food, fitness, and a super fantastic (super belated) birthday celebration.

Dinner at Musso & Frank. After drinks at Black Rabbit Rose. Burlesque show at No Vacancy. And back to Black Rabbit Rose for a great live jazz show. Not a bad night.

Now it’s time to head off toward the first new destination of my road trip adventure – Joshua Tree! (Can you believe I’ve never been there?!)

Farewell Los Angeles, you “ragged promised land” (that Kerouac). See you in about two months.

On the road I go!