48stateroadtrip.com

I kind of think that the guy who asks my brother questions at work is right: the 1980 US hockey team defeating the Soviets and winning the gold medal is probably the greatest (American) sporting event of all time. Granted, I like the romantic idea that the victory was what started the country’s overall turnaround from, well, the 1970’s — but still: morning in America.

So, went to Lake Placid and checked out a couple venues. I think ski jumps make for good photo subjects.

Ski jumps, where no miracle happened in 1980. At least, not for any American.

Kind of doesn’t look that imposing from on top.

Looking up the ski jump.

Colors, viewed from ski jump. Woo!

Eh. I’m kind of bored of my own photos. Maybe I just need more sleep. Sort of reminded me of a film strip or something.

Inside the “1980 Arena”. No, you can’t go in (it’s still used as an arena). And the “olympic museum” at the “Olympic Center” isn’t worth the $5.

The Olympic church, with double-parked Hummer.

Lake Placid is a pretty area. I didn’t go to the bobsled run. People are a little reserved, but friendly when you talk with them. Parking costs $1 an hour in town. Downtown Lake Placid is located on Mirror Lake, a mile away from Lake Placid. It cost $10 (IIRC) to go to the ski jumps. It came with a free chair lift and elevator ride, though.

bkd

Wendesday, Telkontar and I went out to Nauvoo, Ill. If the name’s not familiar, then you’re probably not Mormon. (You can check out Nauvoo Mormon history separately if you want or here’s the two-sentence version:

Nauvoo is a city on the Mississippi River in Illinois to which the Mormon church relocated in 1839 after the state of Missouri legalized exterminating them. After eight years, mobs forced the Mormons to leave Illinois for, well, Mexico (present-day Utah), leaving behind a bunch of pretty cool old brick buildings and the sites of some key events in the church’s history, some of which have since been re-acquired and restored.)

Anyway: I gotta figure out how to take better architectural photos. Maybe next trip.

Seventies Hall, grass, fence. Back in the 1840s, there would’ve been a bunch of out-buildings on the grass.

My great-great-great-grandfather’s porch. And house.

My bro and I posing in front of our own grandpa, who started the restoration of Nauvoo back in 1960 (or so) and ran it for a couple of decades. Our great-great-great grandpa is in the portrait in the room behind us.

The re-built Nauvoo Temple.

Joseph and Hyrum Smith ridin’ home with the temple tower straight ahead.

Same statue, other direction.

Illinois sky, ground.

It was a fun trip. My bro drove the whole way, which was a very welcome change. The missionaries in the homes seemed like they all had just gotten yelled at by the mission president that morning. I figure someone spouted space doctrine to a local journalist or something. It was kind of weird. Made a rope, though, which was cool. Got another prairie ring. They always seem like a good idea until you realize they don’t really fit. Oh well. Also got to introduce someone to the paradox of choice, which may or may not have been appreciated.

Nauvoo is my favorite part of the church’s history. It’s the time in church history that I best identify with — “we’re sick of getting treated like crap, so we’re going to do something about it — we don’t need you”. I kind of wish more (any?) of that spirit showed up at church on Sundays.

I also get a little choked up at seeing a portrait of my grandpa in a place that doesn’t belong to one of my relatives. And one day I’d like to claim my 1/24th of that house.

bkd

I’m catching up. Oh yes, I’m catching up. Went to Chicago (all things go, all things go, I know) to meet up with my buddy Dayn Perry and check out burger #18. Was in Chicago sort of recently, so I didn’t make much of a day of it. And I only took my cell phone cam.

Here’s a picture I took with my phone from the train:

Taking photos in trains always makes me feel like I’m part of a Journey video — although I suppose that’s a bus rather than a train. Tja.

Yep, it’s a large city at sunset alright.

There should be a chili restaurant inside.

Those last two photos were not taken from the train. Ended up at Poag Mahones, the only Irish pub I’ve ever seen that closes before, I dunno, 2 AM? They were kicking us out at 8:30. Here’s the burger.

Pretty standard.

Regarding the burger:

• It was straightforward.
• It was good.
• Any burger place that will allow you to order medium-rare is good, IMHO.
• It wasn’t spectacular.

I sort of wish the GQ list had more gimmick burgers on it. So many of them are just plain, straight-up burgers and therefore hard to differentiate. #18? Eh, sure, why not? Seemed like a nice enough bar/restaurant, didn’t think it was cool to get kicked out at 8-fetchin’-30.

• This was the seventh I’ve eaten so far out of the 20.
• Stay tuned to hear about the eighth, which has (in the actual now) been eaten and digested.

Always cool to hang out with old friends, btw. I’m always sort of surprised how well I always still get along with people I haven’t seen in a long, long time.

bkd

The headline overpromises, although, yes, I did visit Mackinac Island and my niece and her husband, whose last name is Nate. Maybe it doesn’t overpromise so much as it leads the post to under-deliver.

The island is basically like being ont he TV show The Prisoner, but with better special effects. The concept is that you start out in Mackinaw City, just across the bridge from the Upper Peninsula, then take a 20-minute ferry ride across (a small part of) Lake Huron to Mackinac Island, a small island community where internal combustion engines are not allowed. As such, transportation is done via horse-drawn buggy, bicycle, and foot.

Should’ve skipped straight to the fourth paragraph.

Mackinac Island waterfront.

Main Street, which features the highest per-square-foot concentration of fudge retailers in the Lower 48. I would know.

Horses, buggy, people. Road also. Grass, trees.

Prisoner with bubble.

Pathway up to Fort Mackinac, which dates back to the Revolutionary War. It wasn’t our fort back then.

I’m not sure why the six-year-old gets to be the officer, but I’m guessing nepotism.

Pretty similar picture to that other one, but I figured if I put the one with the rifles in between you wouldn’t notice so much. I think it’s an Episcopal church.

And on the way back, I took this photo of the Round Island Lighthouse.

• Cloudy day.
• The fort was cool.
• I pretty well liked hanging out in a non-motorized town, especially walking around a little further to the island’s interior. It was easy to imagine horse-drawn carriage rides to someone’s house in the woods.
• OTOH, the streets all smelled like horse manure.
• And if I wanted to get rich, I’d open up a shop on Main Street there and sell something *other than* fudge.

After escaping the island I drove down to Grand Rapids and saw Andrea and Preston, went to dinner with them, and then left. No pictures. Their new house is pretty nice.

bkd

PS, Mackinaw City (where I stayed in a hotel before catching the ferry over in the morning) was a nice place also — friendly locals and it’s a very well-kept town. Someone there’s doing *something* right. Probably mafia.

I’m guessing Deadwood’s peak is when the bikers flock back to Sturgis. I’m a little disturbed by the number of bikers there are on our modern highways. Actually, I’m mostly just disturbed by the fact that 75% of them are retirees and don’t seem willing to travel at speeds approaching, you know, the speed limit. Meh.

Deadwood: the only town left in America that still thinks Kevin Costner is pretty cool. But good for him — he probably needs it. They’ve revitalized the town’s 19th-century mainstreet through gambling — which is probably appropriate for a town that was sort of built on gambling to begin with. Plus Wild Bill Hickok died here.

In this chair right here, in fact. Look!: you can still see where he ripped the original vinyl!

Main Street, restored.

Most of the people wandering around here were senior citizens. Sort of like Vegas: eyes glazed over, absent-mindedly pushing buttons on slot machines, discussing the qualities of a diverse set of buffets. Oh well. It sort of looked like an old wild-west town anyway.

bkd

As I was driving down I-90, I realized I had a craving for a small- to mid-size city. Realizing that Spokane was nearby and that I hadn’t ever spent any time there, I decided to exit the freeway and check it out.

Eh. Enough with the Yelp review. I didn’t exactly see *all* of Spokane, either, just some of Riverfront Park, which seems like it would be better named “Riverstraddle Park”, but whatever. This is the area that was the site of the 1974 World’s Fair (also: Wod Fir) (the less I watch the Simpsons, the more interesting references to the show become). I kind of liked it. It was a cool blend of small-scale Central Park and ruins from 1974 that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in 1991-93-era Mittweida or Döbeln, although the people in Spokane were considerably more pleasant and there was somewhat less coal smoke in the air.

There were also some waterfalls and a gondola ride that seemed a little unnecessary. IMHO.

Bikeway/walkway through the park. The tower, I learned, was donated by Burlington-Northern.

Urban wildlife.

A loving homage to the Flintstones, which had been canceled only eight years prior to the fair…

Never quite recovered from that 1980 April Wine booking. I love ruins, especially recent ones.

Upper Spokane Falls. This is all right in the middle of downtown, btw (in case you don’t know your Spokane geography). Maybe I should’ve mentioned that.

Lower Spokane Falls and the purple gondola ride rolling on, defying critics who have labeled it “unncessary”.

Spokane kind of reminded me of Reno — IMHO, a good thing.

bkd