Kate's Queen City Notes

Blundering through Cincinnati, laughing all the way


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Hustling for a Home in Carmel

As a massive Kerouac fan, I was excited to visit Big Sur, the setting of Kerouac’s book of the same title. Kerouac’s epic descriptions of crossing Bixby Bridge had me captivated. And even though Kerouac was in the last stages of his surrender to alcohol when he wrote his last book, his appreciation for the natural landscape shined through all his episodes with DTs.

I thought I would make the trip to Big Sur during my time in Seattle. But my months there filled too quickly with hiking day trips, and work and personal trips out of town. As a birthday treat, Jeannine booked us a cabin there and some flights. Although I assumed this would be a trip I would take on my own, it’s clear I thought no one would have interest in joining me rather than a wish for solitude. The number of other Kerouac fans that I’ve known can be counted on one hand. And the intersection between close friends and Kerouac fans yields exactly one.

We flew into San Francisco for a couple of days. Since we have both been there often enough to have exhausted all the typical tourist destinations, we took leisurely strolls across the city looking for some delicious food and enjoyable parks. Food find of note: Tartine is not to be missed.

We declined the entrance fee to the San Francisco Mission, but the outside of the old church was anachronistic in The Mission and worth a look. We were lured away by the people walking by with free Noosa yogurt. Our desire to seek this out was admittedly silly. Unless eaten immediately the yogurt would have gone to waste in our bags without refrigeration for the duration of the afternoon. This low-key vacation was made for following random impulses though, so the Noosa distraction led to a street fair.

The only mildly tourist activities we engaged in were visits to The Beat Museum and Visuvios. The Beat Museum was, well, beat. It was rundown and lacking in much paraphernalia apart from a number of Allen Ginsberg’s photographs that I have seen reproduced numerous times. Yet I was surrounded by a period and culture that has fascinated me for much of my adult life, so I was pleased none the less. With Visuvios just kitty corner to the museum , it felt wrong not to stop in.

The AirBNB place that we stayed in was super. Matt and Jeff were lovely hosts. Give them a look if you are ever travelling there.

San Francisco

This was the view from our Air BNB room. Even with an overcast day it was sublime.

Picture of a do not poop here sign on Vulcan Steps in San Franciso

Vulcan Steps are lovely and should be explored. This is among its gems that appeals to my inner five year old.

Delores Mission. We could have paid 5 bucks to get in here. But I didn't think The Pope needed my money. We bought pastries instead. I still feel good about out choice.

Delores Mission. We could have paid 5 bucks to get in here. But I didn’t think The Pope needed my money. We bought pastries instead. I still feel good about out choice.

This is opulent. The signed on the door say no trespassing. Opulent and off limits.

This is opulent. The signed on the door say no trespassing. Opulent and off limits.

Picture of mission delores basilica

Weird to have that monster right next to the humble Spanish mission.

Abandoned bike locks. The key gets lost or the bike gets incapacitated. Then what?

Abandoned bike locks. The key gets lost or the bike gets incapacitated. Then what?

Picture of a door in The Mission.

But it looks so inviting.

A picture of the women's building in The Mission

El edificios de mujares indeed. A building of women, directly and poorly translated.

The women's building in The Mission

Yep. That’s a woman with a baby in her baby-maker up top. I am a feminist. I’m just not so sure we need to be so explicit about it.

Picture of Delores Park, San Francisco

Delores Park. Yes. It’s lovely.

The Santa Cruz Boardwalk

Santa Cruz boardwalk is like Coney Island but more bright and sparkly and less used needles and grime.

The Peter Pan Hotel in Santa Cruz

Oh, hey 50’s motel. THEY HAVE TV!! Which of course you need when you vacation at the beach.

The Pacific Ocean of California's Highway 1

Some random beauty from one of the many pull-offs on Highway 1. Seriously, it looks like that about half the time. When you aren’t seeing that you are seeing verdant hills and pastures.

We stayed at a wonderful cabin south of Carmel. It’s a little ramshackle place tucked into the side of a hill, filled with color furniture and fixtures that captivated the child in me. After we hiked up the hill, we were treated to a couple of days in this.

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Cabin south of Carmel, California called The Rainbow House.

The Pacific coast close to Big Sur.

What can I say about Big Sur that the pictures don’t? Nothing except it was everything and nothing that I thought it would be. It was just as intoxicating and raw as Kerouac described it. Like Kerouac I expected this pilgrimage to be a reaffirmation of the ways in which I am alien in this world. What a wonderful surprise that I found this place full of awe and gratitude and shared it profoundly with Jeannine, as though it was always to be so.

Cabin south of Carmel, California called The Rainbow House.

This was right off Highway One. I am standing about five feet off the road.

Bixby Bridge

This is the bridge I have been looking for… for years.

image

Caught at work.

Since this song… Since Big Sur

Bixby Bridge Highway One California

Bixby is just gorgeous.

Bixby bridge

Kerouac marvels at this bridge in Big Sur. He talks about the sheer power of nature, and how he felt insignificant against it.

Bixby bridge

I understand what he means exactly. But where he felt insignificant, I feel comforted that we humans aren’t so powerful after all.

Bixby Bridge

That time when you are trying to figure out how the timer works on your camera.

Bixby bridge

That time when you give up on making the timer work on your camera.

Bixby bridge

I wouldn’t have made it here without this one.

Big Sur, Pacific Ocean

The Pacific just passed Bixby Bridge in Big Sur.

View from Nepenthe in Big Sur

The Pacific from the deck of Nepenthe. I don’t know what voodoo they worked on their burger. I just know it was heavenly.

pfeiffer beach big sur california

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California. The pictures adequately show the raw beauty of the beach. It doesn’t show that the winds were driving sand up off the beach and blasting my face with it. My face was very soft after the sand and salt scrub.

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California. That kid was brave. It was very cold.

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pfeiffer Beach Big Sur California

Pretty…


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On the Road – Day Two

I left Mason City, Iowa with a full belly, gas tank, and twelve hours of driving ahead of me. I made a reservation at a pet-friendly Best Western in Billings, Montana, so I had no choice but to clock the hours across South Dakota. I gave little consideration to the location of my hotel aside from the time calculations that indicated that Billings was in the general vicinity of my driving goal for the day. This turned out to be unwise.

After wrestling Henry back in the crate, he settled into peering at me warily from his crate in the passenger’s seat. We roared through what remained of Iowa and the southern section of Minnesota. Most of our time was spent slogging across South Dakota, a state that is a little less than 400 miles across. Luckily, the state is also beautiful.

This is a tourist trap. But they make their own ice cream, and it's pretty good. The trip was not wasted.

This is a tourist trap. But they make their own ice cream, and it’s pretty good. The trip was not wasted.

That is the Missouri River. It seems a miss to me to not have a place to pull off the highway and take a picture, but it seems South Dakota isn't so great at recognizing its natural resources.

That is the Missouri River. It seems a miss to not provide a place to pull off the highway and take a picture, but it seems South Dakota isn’t so great at recognizing its natural resources.

Tail end of South Dakota before heading into Wyoming.

Tail end of South Dakota before heading into Wyoming.

This panorama shot in South Dakota was intended to show how big the sky is. But I'm not convinced it achieves the goal.

This panorama shot in South Dakota was intended to show how big the sky is. But I’m not convinced it achieves the goal.

We roared into Wyoming. I regret hitting that state at sunset, because what I did see of it looked gorgeous.

And Wyoming was stunning.

And Wyoming was stunning.

I had to snap this picture shortly after crossing the state line. There was precious little day light left.

I had to snap this picture shortly after crossing the state line. There was precious little day light left.

By the time I hit Montana, like the couple hours before close in a crappy bar, it was too dark for me to assess it’s attractive attributes. The dark drive to Billings was accompanied by Henry’s complaints. It only dawned on me then that he only got upset in the car after dark. I don’t know what offends the persnickety little man about night driving, but he is decidedly not a fan.

As I navigated to the hotel I learned that Billings is a larger city than the little town I had imagined. I also learned that Billings has a downtown that is less than appealing, and that my motel was located there. And this is when I was plunged into an immersive Agent Dale Cooper experience.

The odor that greeted me upon entering the motel office made me wince. It was though all the intensity of a Yankee Candle warehouse focused itself on this very small room. The receptionist was irrationally excited to see me at any time of day, but especially so at midnight. The check-in process seemed to take an eternity, but I am sure that is just my perception due to the sinus raping that was happening to my face. I fled the office with my key card feeling unsettled.

I pulled my car close to my room to unpack. While doing so a middle-aged man leisurely rode his BMX bike past me as though he had no particular place to be. At midnight. With his knees up in his armpits while pedaling because the frame was so small. He gave me a neighborly enough greeting, but this did nothing to remedy my unsettled feeling. It was at this moment that I noticed what seemed to be another motel guest lounging in a lawn chair intently watching me unload. I made eye contract several times thinking he would recover himself and attend to something else. Not so. The unsettling continued as I hurried to finish unloading.

The parking lot of the hotel was full. I had to park my car, loaded to the gills with stuff across the street in the less than desirable downtown of Billings. In and of itself this would be ok, but while walking away from my PLEASE-BURGLE-ME vehicle I noticed a couple screaming at each other at the end of the ally. Upon closer inspection the couple looked like crack heads (thanks OTR circa 2004 for helping me spot that) having a throw down, with a person … spectating? I don’t know what other word to use for this third, as he contributed in no way but his body language suggested he was in rapt attention.

At this point, my attention is drawn to the other end of the ally to see a trio of men. Two men are carrying a man between them. It seemed the man in the center had consumed a too much booze. The peculiar thing about them was that the incapacitated man was in a tux while his assistants were in shorts and T’s. They also waved at me as though I knew them. At this point the unsettled feeling is developing into alarm.

On the way back to my room, I run into another crack head couple arguing. They had the decency to pause their fight to greet me, a nicety that didn’t make me feel any better. At midnight. Once safely in my room, I felt compelled to search for a? What? A camera? A dead body? I don’t know. I didn’t find any of those things, but I did find what appeared to be blood stains on the carpet. My thought while falling asleep?  If I don’t get kidnapped into a sex slave ring or worse tonight, I will call it success including if my car has been looted.


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On the Road – Day One

I packed as many of my belongings in my Mazda 2 as possible. I drove from Cincinnati to Seattle. There’s a whole other blog that will happen one day explaining how I came to be shoving all my belongings in my subcompact car with a cat named Henry and driving 2000 miles. Until that happens this will have to do.

I got a late start on Friday morning. Partially, because I had a late night on Thursday. Starting the trip with a sleep deficit seemed less appealing than making the time that I wanted to. I rolled out of Cincinnati at 11 AM. With this poor little guy.

Henry was not impressed with this adventure. To him this was much like his

Henry was not impressed with this adventure. To him this was much like his “adventures” to the vet, but of a significantly longer duration.

Henry didn’t start out as my cat but became mine. I can’t help but think that at this moment, he was really regretting where he ended up. I had a small litter box in the car for him. I let him out of the crate to use it when I would stop for gas. Turns out he can’t even with the bodily functions while in the car. He didn’t eat/drink/pee/poo in the car. I was at once worried and relieved when I noticed this pattern.

Henry was a surprisingly good travel companion, except that he would cry when the sun went down. I am afraid that I only noticed this pattern at the end of day two. I was hoping to get through Minnesota on my first day, but at 9 pm Henry had been serenading me for some time. I was done.

I found a Quality Inn in Mason City Iowa. I was perfectly happy to pay the ridiculous $120 dollars to stay there. Henry was beyond pleased to get out of the crate in the hotel room. Everything was uneventful except for one thing.

What is the purpose of that?

What is the purpose of that?

Seriously? What is the purpose of that?

Seriously? What is the purpose of that?

Who needs a window in their shower? How did this happen? Is this a really poor attempt at a sexy clouded glass shower? But honestly, at this point I was so tired that I give this no thought whatsoever and fell into bed.