Preliminary Polling Results.

Many of you "commented" and many emailed so I can embellish here as much as I deem appropriate and unless you have access to my email inbox you’ll never know. Many voted for Bend, which is Dan’s favorite option, sighting the recreational opportunities and scenery. A few thought Salt Lake was a good fit, guessing that nice blonde haired, blue eyed kids like us could pass for Mormon in a bind. Some felt Portland held a lot of potential both for recreation and occupation; this is my personal choice for today.

Many came up with interesting places like Idaho, the Dakotas, small, remote, tropical islands, any place with a beginner surf break and a guest house, Durango (okay not exactly original), Gem Village ( “suburb” of Durango, slightly more original), rural Ohio, and southern California to name but a few.

My ever imaginative mother managed to circumvent my “no votes for Cincy by my folks” caveat, by emailing all of her friends and asking them to vote for Cincy . (Note to my mother: your best hope would be to arrange some serious tectonic plate action resulting in a great land mass upheaval, somewhere in the 10,000’ range, followed by a meteorological shift causing a champagne powder effect to coat the Ohio valley six months a year). And a few friends sent along some colorful antidotes that my self-imposed PG-13 rating will not allow me to comment further on.

Sadly no real job offers came in and no one offered to publish my book or to sponsor future travel. We did however get a nice house-sitting offer and a few people willing to petition the Travel Channel on our behalf. Sadly, though we are back to square one. Perhaps we just need more of a consensus to make up our minds, so keep the comments coming. If you have no opinion then just click an ad and help us that way ;). We love hearing from you all, and just think in a few weeks who else’s life choices will you be able to influence with a simple email?

So far away from home.

We have been in Maine for the past five days but our hearts have been back home in Durango. The little river we were both fortunate enough to work on for more than ten years dealt a tragic blow to two families, our town and the very tightly knit river community there. In 22 years there had never been a commercial death on the Upper Animas. This Friday marked the deaths of not one but two, a 30 year-old man from Texas and a 25 year-old guide that we knew. The effect on our friends is palpable to us even out here, more than 2000 miles away. May you all know that you are in the forefront of our minds right now, and though we are so far away we feel your pain as if we were there holding your hands.

The End is Near….

Note: We are in Acadia with no Intenet connection so we cannot currently reply to emails. We will when we hit the road again in a few days. Also if you use the comment button then we cannot reply to you, if you'd like a reply please include your email address in your post. Thanks.


A few of you have written asking about our final itinerary and where we will be relocating to when our trip is over in August. I have been hesitant to answer because:

A. We don’t know.
B. On those rare occasions when we think we know, we are hit with another variable that changes our mind.
C. We don’t want to admit that we have to grow up and get real jobs again.

So here’s what I do know. Currently we are en route to Cincinnati, Ohio via Acadia National Park in Maine. From Acadia we are torn between traveling through Canada or the U.S.

After a nice long visit with my folks in Cincy we will be bee lining it for Oregon which is one of our potential new homes. From there we will return to Durango, fetch our remaining belongings and move to our new home, wherever that may be.

Since no other factors have lead us to a clear cut a decision, why not open this up to public debate. This is the audience participation section of our Blog. Here’s how you play…

Click on the comments line below (it is light blue directly below the end of this post). Begin your comment with the name of the city, town, country, etc. of your choice and then follow that up with your reasoning. Suggestions containing actual job offers will be weighted more heavily.

Here are the choices, in no particular order:
1. Bend, Oregon
2. Salt Lake City, Utah
3. Portland, Oregon
4. Crested Butte, Colorado
5. Any other place that we can get jobs or that will grant us work visas.

Small print:
We reserve the right to completely disregard all votes and make up our own minds.
Votes made by my parents for Cincinnati, will be ignored.
Spiteful votes for places like Farmington, New Mexico or the moon will be ignored.
All votes for "grow up and get a job", or "make your own minds up you poser gypsy wannabees", will be disregarded.
Any votes containing the phrase “yuppie gypsy posers”, or anything similar will be highlighted and mocked in future posts.

Feel free to chime in on must sees between here and Cincy and any hair brained ideas that might help to keep us in perpetual motion. Happy voting.

Fahgettaboutit

We arrived safe and sound into the outstretched arms of my decades-old friend Ms. Heather Jean Bates. It had been far too long since she and I had last spoken face to face and what a welcome face to see among the hoards of huddled masses in Grand Central Station. Heather expertly navigated us through the city to the sanctuary which is her apartment in Brooklyn Heights. After we moved in, learned which corner of her spacious 100 square foot studio was ours and learned the proper way to appease her attack cat we felt like we were ready for a night on the town.


Heather, Me and Dan.


We met up with Heather’s boyfriend Raf (Rafael) and went promptly to their favorite Japanese Restaurant. Heather is a very wise woman who knows that the fastest way to get two country bumpkins to embrace the city is through their stomachs. A few sushi rolls and a bottle of sake later we were throwing fahgettaboutits and vaclemts out like old pros. We strolled along the promenade in Heather’s neighborhood, staring at the city all lit up we marveled at how beautiful something entirely man-made can be.


The next day was marathon-see-everything-in-NYC-in-twelve-hours-or-less kind of day. Again our expert tour guide led us unflinchingly through the city. We raced over the Brooklyn Bridge, past Heather’s office, right into downtown Manhattan.


We paused to visit the World Trade Center Site and I was struck by how hard it is to reconcile the pictures we all saw on TV with the pit that is there now. Thousands died there, and yet I couldn’t wrap my head around it like I could when we visited the Vietnam Memorial just a few days before. It made me long for a Memorial- something to bring it into perspective. Then Heather took us to catch the Staten Island Ferry and en route we passed the sculpture that has become the de facto memorial. That is what made it hit home for me. It is what remains of a fountain that was in front of the buildings. Somehow it survived in good enough shape to be re-constructed here in the Battery and it, more than the site, is the place to come and pay homage.


We rode the ferry past the Statue of Liberty; it is a good, free, way to get a nice view of her. With three boroughs under our belt we headed uptown. A quick sprint through Time’s Square left Dan in shock so we opted to keep with that and thrust him into the East Village. His head swirling with Broadway and green-mohawked, pierced teenagers, we decided to spare him further trauma and retired to an Irish pub for a pint.

Back in the relative calm of Heather’s neighborhood we had another dinner out followed by a nice evening with friends.


Sunday morning we ate bagels along the promenade and said goodbye to Heather and Raf. Heather walked us to the subway station and made sure we got on the right train. Somehow we managed to navigate the city all alone and miraculously made it onto our Connecticut bound train right on time.


Back in New Haven cousin Heather met us at the train station and gave us a tour of the Yale campus where she used to work. We enjoyed a nice dinner with Heather, Lee and Lee’s two teen aged boys. One more night in the Mental Health Facility parking lot and it was time to head off on our own again. Lee and Heather took us to a nice place for lunch where we could stroll along the very pretty shoreline and relax to the sounds of the ocean. Once again we must thank them for saving us from certain divorce, should we have tried to in any way navigate NYC in our rig, parking in CT was a relief and a much, much better idea.


Monday night we made it to Rhode Island and enjoyed a very mellow night. It was really nice to be back in our routine again. Yesterday we drove to Cape Cod, rather than hob-knobbing with the beautiful people we opted for doing laundry and bowling. Fortunately for us the laundry mat is right next door to the bowling alley. Apparently they bowl a little differently out here. There was no bar, no greasy spoon and not even balls with holes in them. This is candlestick bowling, you use bocce-like balls and you get to throw three times instead of just two.

Here are some more New York shots:

The tree sculpture in Grand Central's Market.


Subway performers.

June 15, 2005

Today, June 15, 2005, is an important day for us. Not only is today our wedding anniversary but it also marks one year on the road . Daniel Lawrence Goddard and I have been married for three years and together for ten. Or as we like to think of it, nine regular years and one dog year, for a total of sixteen years. Trust me, you spend every moment of a year with your significant other and tell me it doesn’t count for seven!

Our trip is winding down, we have started searching through want ads and trying to decide what we want to be when we grow up. It is surreal to me that this trip which was just a dream five years ago is almost over now. Again I am overwhelmed by the experiences we have been so fortunate to have, by the people we have met, friends we have visited, family that has nurtured us and the time we have been able to spend with each other.

Not many couples get to really know their spouses like we have this past year. I can tell you honestly that I love Dan more and more every day. Save for the days that he questions my navigating skills, cooking skills, knowledge of geography, history or socially acceptable behavior. Also on occasion when he forces me to listen to pop country I question my love. And when he cleans after I have because of his OCD tendencies then sometimes I wonder. But on every other occasion I know that I have found not only my mate but my best friend and I am eternally grateful for the time and experiences we have been able to share.

Capital City

Some final pictures from West Virginia.




We got back onto the Blue Ridge and followed into Shenandoah National Park. We wanted to hike along the famed Appalachian Trail, so the next morning we got up early and hiked for about eight miles. We passed by three waterfalls, were surrounded by fern chocked fields and white tailed deer.

Deer at our Shenandoah campground.



Timber Ratler at our lunch stop.


This is one of the rivots that hold on the milemarkers along the Appalacian Trail.


The Appalacian Trail logo.




Dan hiking the trail.

Wednesday we planned to spend the day touring around Washington, D.C., but were our plans were foiled by a four and a half hour oil change and the need for a new marine battery. After we got all the kinks worked out we made it into the city around 4pm. We unloaded our bikes and rode past many of the Capitals famous buildings. We camped at a state park about 20 miles south of the city.


The U.S. Capital.


The Korean War Memorial.


The Lincoln Memorial.


The Supreme Court.


The White House.


The Vietnam Memorial.

Thursday we met up with Rick and Edith for lunch since they happened to be in the city that day too. Then we toured the Smithsonian Natural History Museum and Art Museum as well as the sculpture gardens.




The Smithsonian Natural History Museum.

After our museum tours we had a very special date. We drove out to Silver Springs, MD, where I got to meet my Great Aunt Kitty and Uncle Raymond. Our visit with them was something I will always remember and once again I am overwhelmed at the opportunity we have been given to travel and re-connect with friends and family.

Yesterday was a six-state day, Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. Dan and I stymied the anxiety attacks which were welling up inside us as we drove I-95 through New York City. Have I mentioned lately that Dan is an excellent driver? We spent the evening in Branford, CT with my cousin Heather and her husband Lee. Today we will board the train to NYC, leaving the rig safely parked in CT, and will rendezvous with my long-time friend Heather Bates, in Grand Central Station- wish us luck!

The New River, West Virginia

West Virginia.
When you live and raft out West you hear these stories about Eastern rafting and most of the really good stories are about the New and the Gualey rivers in West Virginia. This past Thursday Dan and I had a chat about what each of us really wanted to do in our remaining two months and Dan said The New. So we detoured off of the Blue Ridge and made our way to Fayetteville, which is home to the 18 or so companies who commercially run the river.



After a few discouraging hours we had almost given up on Dan getting to paddle the lower gorge (the class III-V section). Since I am not as good a boater as Dan I cannot go with him on those kind of stretches and it is unsafe to attempt it alone. We tried to find some local boaters that Dan could tag along with, but this too is a bit dicey since you don’t know their capabilities and vice versa.

Additionally given some of the “neighborhoods” we had been driving through we were starting to have some serious Deliverance flashes and were getting a bit scared. I heard a joke yesterday…”Given the choice I’d rather be dropped off at night in Compton than West Virginia. In Compton they just shoot you, in West Virginia they keep you.”

This is when we stumbled onto Rivers’ base camp and met up with Jeremy. Jeremy is a video boater; he follows commercial river trips down the river in his kayak, stopping to video the trips at the bigger rapids along the way. He and Dan discussed the possibility of Dan working for him on the Gauley and next thing we knew we were booked on the 8:30, full-day, lower gorge trip for the following morning. Since Dan is a potential employee we were allowed to camp with the other dirt bag rafter types for free. Note: in this context dirt bag is an honorary title.

Rivers has its own bar, restaurant, campground and outfitters store, very near the take-out for the lower section. The bar is genius because raft guides like to drink so they will never be short of customers. When you go down the river with these guys you get two free drinks after the trip, so everyone gathers in the bar and has a drink with their guide while watching Jeremy’s video. Friday night we met a bunch of the guides at the bar and I managed to secure a seat on a guide boat instead of the usual customer boat.

Dan barely slept that night. This was going to be one of those “check off your list of things to do” kind of days, and he was excited. The river was everything we had heard. The gorge is beautiful, deep and lush and steeped with history. The river is a hoot! In the first rapid, which is named Surprise, we flipped out 12’ boat, more or less on purpose, since we were all guides this was just a fun flip and we had the boat righted a minute later.




After lunch we splashed through rapid after rapid all ranging from class III to V (really probably III’s and IV’s by western standards, at this water level). It was like a giant wet rollercoaster, boats flipped, swimmers swam and everyone had a blast. Rivers puts on a good show and runs a safe trip, we were impressed.


Meanwhile Dan was busy spinning and surfing in every hole he could find. He had an ear to ear grin all day, even after he got surfed upside-down in a nasty hole named Nose Bleed and only popped out when a raft ran him over. He grew up watching videos of eastern kayaking and now he has gotten to run one of the big eastern legends.


We returned to the campground happy and satiated. We were recounting the day’s adventures to each other when Jess and Kimball, both Rivers’ guides, came knocking at our door with great stories, conversation and a jug (really a jug) of moonshine. This might be Dan’s perfect day.


A big, no a HUGE, shout out to Jeremy, Goldie, (Dingle)Barry, Amanda, Kimball, Jess, Thomas and all the folks at River’s. We’ll see you again.

I was a bit behind in my posts so this is the second one today. Click here to read about our time on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Blue Ridge Parkway

Each and every person who reads this should promise themselves right now that they will take the time to drive the Blue Ridge Parkway some day. This road is so stunning that I am sad now writing this because we have temporarily veered off of the parkway.









After we left Kevin and Leslie we spent a night in the Pisgah National Forest, which while the forest was very pretty I cannot recommend the campgrounds there. Our experience was that the campground was unkempt and overly expensive. The campground host told us repeatedly that the cost was worth it because we’d get a hot shower unlike the Parkway campgrounds. Well there was a shower there, but it did not work the first night and didn’t drain the next morning. In hindsight I wish we would have pushed on to the Parkway that night.


But then again if we'd pressed on we would have missed sliding rock, which was hilarious.



We picked up the Blue Ridge outside of Brevard, N.C. at around milepost 415. That day we drove only 100 miles but we took our time and didn’t get into camp until late. Along this leg we toured the Folk Art Center, Craggy Gardens, and Mt. Mitchell (the highest point in the eastern U.S.). We detoured only once due to the extensive damage last year’s hurricanes caused to the parkway. In three spots the road was simply washed away and the rebuilding projects, already long underway, looked daunting. We camped at the Linville Falls campground which was immaculate and nice. That night it began to rain and it wouldn’t stop for the next 56 hours.




Mount Mitchell lookout tower.


Mount Mitchell nature trail.


View from Craggy Gardens.


Us at the highest point in the eastern U.S.

The next morning we drove down to the Community of Linville and spied some of the falls and cascades along the road. We stopped at the caverns and saw remnants of mudslides and pictures of the aftermath of hurricanes Francis and Ivan. At noon we met up with Vicki a dear family friend of ours. We along with her golden retriever Sweetie Pie hiked all around Linville Falls. Around three we returned to our cars soaked to the bone. That evening we spent in Boone with Vicki and her husband John who was out of commission due to a very recent Achilles tendon injury. We tried not to rave too much about how great our hike had been, since poor John won’t be hiking for a while.





Linville Falls.


Rock slide from hurricanes.


Dan, Vicki, Sweetie Pie and me.

Thursday morning we all drove out to John and Vicki’s recently acquired land where they will be building their dream home over the next two years. For the first time I was the jealous one. Their home will be surrounded by forest with a view of the cascades and nearby mountains, no more than a mile off of the Parkway. Perhaps it is an effect of our impending settling down phase, but I sensed a new dream coming clear for us. A nice piece of land with a simple home, near water and surrounded by trees.


The cascade.

John and Vicki sent us off with a goody bag filled with sugared pecans and we promised to return soon, hopefully some fall when I can only imagine how beautiful it must be there.

Yesterday we drove from Boone, milepost 280-ish to Rocky Knob campground at milepost 170. Again we drove very slowly and made lots of stops. Most notably we visited the Mabry Mill. The first photo on this page is the standard/ required Mill photo, complete with rhododendron in the foreground. Again we were impressed by the campgrounds here; we camped in a completely empty loop, and enjoyed our solitude.






The Mabry Mill still.






Dan's new favorite place.