Some of you may be wondering what happened to Bryan.  He started out in California, drove north to Oregon and Washington, then wound his way across the USA, passing through Texas and Louisiana on his way to the East Coast.  He was last heard from in Asheville North Carolina, before he totally disappeared.

Bryan actually drove north from Asheville on a sidetrip to visit some friends in New York, and suffered an unfortunate mishap.  He, somehow, injured his leg rather severely. The injury was serious enough to force the suspension of Bryan's odessey,  He returned to his home on the West Coast, via airplane, to seek medical attention and surgery. 

I communicated with Bryan last month, and can happily report that his leg is mending well.  Bryan would like to continue his country-wide jaunt, and resume his blog, but was uncertain when he could do it.

We wish you well Bryan!  Thank you for sharing your trip with us!  

I liked Asheville so much I stayed an extra day. In the morning I went for a jog through the neighborhoods on the west side of town. It was beautiful out, warm and sunny but not too hot. Everything was lush green - the trees were full of leaves and the lawns were full of grass. I found a hydrant for sale:

You don't normally find fire hydrants in such nice condition, so feel free to call if you're in need

I headed downtown and went to some cafes and a cool local bookstore - Malaprop's. I bought a couple books and read them in a park. Asheville has a good community feel. It's not a big town - around 75,000 - but it feels like a bigger town because the people come out together. I ran into Jim from the hostel and we went to a couple bars. At the second one there was a strange Irish bluegrass family band playing. They sat in a circle and each of them played a different instrument. It was pretty strange.

I ended up having a pretty slow night hanging out at the hostel and playing guitar with Nisha.

In the morning I hiked up to lookout rock - a tower built on the tallest point of the rim as a forest fire lookout. It gave pretty good views of the long flat valley to the southeast,

northeast,

and the industrialization and development creeping in from the west:

The Smoky Mountains have always appeared 'smoky' due to condensation trapped in the valleys by the mountain ranges. In the last several decades, smog from nearby industry and auto traffic have caused a 40-60% increase in smokiness (so says the sign at Lookout Rock).

I drove back through the National Park on Highways 73 and 441. Traffic was heavy through Cherokee, with lots of tourist shops and street vendors. It looked like some type of Native American festival was going on.

I finally reached Interstate 40 and quickly made it to Asheville. I'd heard good things about Asheville all the way back in Montana. It was kind of early and I ended up heading downtown and hanging out at a cafe. I tried to find a good spot to camp but there was nothing nearby. I ended up staying at the hostel in west Asheville. Everyone was really nice and I ended up making some friends: Casey, who was down from Brooklyn for a kayaking trip in the mountains; Deborah, from Colorado, moving to Asheville to do some forestry research; Jim, an architect from Atlanta who had traveled solo through Mexico; Nisha, a New Zealander who had just moved to Asheville.

Casey, Deborah and I went out to check out the town and found a pretty good Mexican place for dinner and some neat bars afterwards, including a great example of an authentically-named Irish Pub:

I left Memphis the next morning and drove east along highway 40 through Nashville. Memphis calls itself 'the home of the blues,' while Nashville calls itself 'the home of country.' I drove through the main strip and it looked about how you'd expect - lots of music venues and bars, lots of tourists walking around snapping pictures. I didn't feel like stopping and pressed on eastward.

When I turned off of Interstate 40 onto Highway 73 I could see the Smoky Mountains ahead in the distance. They were indeed pretty smoky-looking:

I continued along highway 73 through Townsend and into the national park. There was no fee to enter. The road became very windy and I got stuck behind RV's and buses moving like baby carriages around the corners. Back and forth, back and forth. It took quite awhile to get to the Elkmont Campground. Of course, it was full. The ranger said that all the campgrounds in the park were full, but that if I would backtrack 40 miles around the edge of the park I might have some luck at the Lookout Rock campground. So I headed back west along highway 73, through Townsend and Kinzel Springs and took Foothills Parkway south.

The road climbed uphill towards the lookout and as I drove along the sun was setting to the west and at a turn-off I stopped and admired the view. Sorry, didn't get a picture this time. Anyway, there were still a few spots open at the campground and I set up and made dinner in the dark. Around me the forest was quiet and for the first time in weeks it wasn't scorchingly hot. In fact, it was almost cool outside. It was pretty nice not to have to sweat. I took my time making food - I had picked up some vegetables, black beans, salsa, cheese(of course), etc. and was making burritos. I noticed a flash of light out of the corner of my eye. Then another. I looked more carefully and there were many flashes of light, all through the woods. Fireflies! I had never seen fireflies before. I sat there and watched the fireflies and ate my burritos in the cool night, then went to sleep.

I made the long drive up Interstate 55 to Memphis. A friend of mine, Katherine, was in town for business, and offered me a place to stay on the couch of her hotel suite. I got there pretty late and we had dinner and went to bed early.

The next night we went out to Beale street. Memphis has a long and illustrious history as a music mecca, particularly for blues and rock & roll. Beale street is supposedly the heart of this. Beale is a couple blocks of nightclubs, bars, and venues. Live music blasts from each doorway, competing with other doorways, oozing out into a sort of punctuated hum in the street like tributaries creating a river. The night we went was biker night. Hundreds of motorcycles lined the street, and everybody was wearing leather.

Except Katherine; she wasn't wearing leather.

Beale street was pretty neat. We found an outdoor beer garden with a band. A couple guys were singing soul music very seriously.

Here is one of their lyrics:

"Now I'm 49,

My mind's a whole lot stronger,

My love making lasts a whole lot longer,

When people ask if I want to turn back time, I say 'no man' "

We wandered over to the B.B. King Club, where a blues band was playing. They were really talented.

We were very impressed.

Then, the front man started playing his guitar with his teeth.

The picture's not very good, but I promise this happened. It was on a crazy solo. It even sounded good.

On the way back to the car, we passed:

Elvis impersonators,

and what seems to be the Beale street motto.

 

I met up with my friend Rick, who, since I'd seen him in Sacramento a couple months ago, had set out on his own USA travel adventure. He was staying in New Orleans at a hostel, and we met up for an authentic New Orleans tradition - muffuletta sandwiches. Muffuletta sandwiches originated at Italian grocery stores in the French Quarter. Many of them claim to be the 'Home of the Original Muffuletta'. Central Grocery, on Decatur street, appears most authentic. No one seems to know where the name 'muffuletta' came from, but my theory is that it's the phonetic spelling of the cajun pronunciation of the phrase 'mother f****** lot of.' Piled high with salami, ham, provolone cheese, and olive relish, and the size of a human head, it's best to not eat an entire muffuletta sandwich. Rick and I split one.

For dessert, we had coffee and beignets at Cafe Du Monde, another New Orleans landmark.

Look at the handsome man and his sugar-coated pastries!

Rick took off for the Mississippi coast and I wandered around until bedtime.

In the morning I drove south along the St. Bernard Highway snaking along the Mississippi River to St. Bernard's Parish. St. Bernard's Parish had been decimated by Hurricane Katrina in the fall of 2005, and I had spent the summer of 2006 gutting flood damaged houses there. The volunteers all stayed at an abandoned middle school that had been converted to a barracks. When I arrived, 10 months after the storm, 2 houses were inhabited out of 5000. Row after row of houses were in the same condition the flood waters had left them. White FEMA trailers littered the yards. Wreckage had been pushed off the streets and laid along the sidewalks and in front yards. Abandoned vehicles were everywhere. Local businesses hadn't returned. Packs of wild dogs had claimed certain areas. Here's a couple pictures from the summer of 2006:

I returned to St. Bernard's Parish in the winter of 2006 for a week, and saw that there had been a lot of progress. Many more houses were occupied, the wreckage was cleaned up, businesses were open, the community was healing. I again stayed at the abandoned middle school with the other volunteers. 

This time, almost 4 years after the storm, it was hard to find any evidence that it had ever happened. Here and there buildings had been abandoned, but the neighborhoods were alive again. It was amazing to see.

The barracks was once again an elementary school:

I returned to the city and wandered around the French Quarter for awhile. It was certainly different than I remembered it. There were far more tourists and young non-natives riding beach cruisers and wearing berets. The quarter seemed crowded compared to my memories of post-hurricane New Orleans. There was less charm; it was less of an individual experience. Before, tourism hadn't returned but the attractions were all open, ready and waiting. It felt like the entire city existed just for my fellow volunteers and I. Back then, the city had this type of amazing flavor, this rich culture that you could feel in the air. All the non-essential parts of New Orleans were gone and it was pure, unadulturated, and wonderful.

But now all the other parts had returned and it wasn't like I remembered it. It wasn't bad - I will always love New Orleans - it was just different, and less magical.

I met up with Ben and we went to a couple cool bars. The New Orleans music scene is really good if you know where to look (the further from Bourbon street, the better). A band was playing upstairs at the second bar we went to. It was a week night and there were about 6 people watching the 4 person blues/soul band. 4 of them appeared to be the band members' girlfriends. The band was absolutely incredible. They were fantastically talented and we sat there slack-jawed for a couple hours listening to their set in the big vacant venue. It was surreal. It was like listening to a private show of Led Zeppelin. Like, that's not meant to happen. Apparently the band had just formed and hadn't even recorded anything yet. They need to get in a studio, like, yesterday. Jamey St. Pierre and the Honeycreepers - watch out for them!

A couple months ago - way back in the northwest Idaho mountains - I mentioned that a friend and I had composed and performed a song. Well, here it is (sorry, but you'll have to click the link - can't embed youtube videos here).

Ode to Cheese

Oh my hound dog's left me
and my truck's run dry,
Suzy done left me
for another guy,
With the whiskey low
and the beer run out,
I sure feel down and out,
But I got cheese...

What makes the night less lonely?
What makes the bread less moldy?
What can you feel to a pony?
Cheese...

What's like a whale's blubber?
What feels a bit like rubber?
What's better than any lover?
Cheese...

Oh my mother don't love me
and my dog's still gone,
If I got back Suzy
she'd be gone before long,
Drunk the whiskey bottle dry
and the well's run out,
My heart's all full of doubt,
But I got cheese...

What keeps me nice and mellow?
What's good for any fellow?
What's white and sometimes yellow?
Cheese...

What's the best thing to come from udders?
So good it makes me shudder,
Sweeter than cream and butterier than butter,
Cheese...

Well my mother stuck with me
slapped Suzy's behind,
Found my hound dog Luke
left the truck behind,
But the rain's a-comin'
feel it in my soul,
But I just don't care, y'know,
'Cause I got cheese...

Cheese refrain 

Casey and I finally split paths - she had to get to a medical rotation in Corpus Cristi, 5 1/2 hours west, and I was heading to New Orleans, 5 1/2 hours east. We said some small things and drove off. I took the fairy from Galveston to Port Bolivar. There was a huge line and it took me an hour to get aboard. Here's a picture of me waiting in line for the ferry!

Port Bolvar is a narrow strip of land that spits out into Galveston Bay. All the houses were built on high stilts to avoid flooding.

The drive to New Orleans was pretty interesting. I passed through the Bayou and there was much water - swamp land, rivers, lakes, etc. The freeway was built above the water on stilts for long stretches.

I arrived in Baton Rouge as the sun was setting. The Mississippi River ran through downtown and I crossed a magnificent bridge. I turned off the freeway and tried to find a good photo spot. I ended up coming across an abandoned shipping dock extending out from the levee atop the river.

Someone had broken the lock and the entire thing had been covered by graffiti art. It was really cool. I have more pictures of it on my blog.

I arrived in New Orleans pretty late and found the address of my couchsurfing host, Ben. Ben is a cool guy and we hung out and played guitar and chatted until late at night. He's an engineer from Milwaukee Wisconsin, and incredible musician, and an all-around good dude.

Casey and I returned to Houston Saturday morning. She took me to what appeared to be a very normal-looking neighborhood. And then I saw the rocket ship trailer:

After that I was pretty sure it wouldn't be a normal neighborhood. I was right, because next door was 'The Orange Show'. The Show was built by Jeff McKissack over a period of nearly 30 years. The idea was something to do with oranges, steam power, education, and entertainment, though I'm not sure how all of these things were supposed to combine. McKissack expected over 300,000 visitors per year. He figured that by charging each one $2, he would become rich. Unfortunately, his revenue projections were a little too optimistic, McKissack died of depression, and The Orange Show became an underground cult attraction. 

CLOWNS NEVER LIE! The Orange Show is a trip. Go, if you can. When you have finished visiting, they give you a questionnaire. Be sure to fill it out.

After that, we went to the Beer Can House. This is a house made out of Beer Cans. But it's not actually made out of beer cans, it's just sort of ridiculously decorated with them. Houston people are weird.

Here's the guy responsible for the Beer Can House:

Next, we went to the Saint Arnold brewery for a tour. Casey had quite the efficient itinerary and we just made it. It was about 110 degrees inside the huge warehouse. Saint Arnold offers 1 tour each week, and it's a favorite for Houstonites. Each week the founder, Brock Wagner, gives a talk outlining the history of the brewery, explaining what goes into making the different types of beer, etc. The place was packed with thirsty sweaty people holding empty beer mugs. We all watched him speak for the better part of an hour. I think he enjoyed the power he had over us. He could have said anything and we would have sat there and listened. Nobody was going anywhere - then you'd miss the beer.

It was very good. I liked the IPA the best. The heat wasn't so bad once you got cold beer. They gave everybody enough tokens to more or less get drunk by 2pm.

From there we went to the Houston Galleria shopping center, which has a giant ice skating rink on the ground floor.

Next door was the Williams Water Wall - a giant water wall sculpture in a park.

The next stop on the whirwind tour was Casey's friend's house in the city, where we played a role playing game involving werewolves, villagers, magicians, and so forth. It had something to do with the werewolves having hidden identities and trying to eat all the villagers before their identities were discovered. I'm not really sure what was going on, but it was fun. 

Afterwards we hit some bars and chilled out before heading back to Galveston. Casey and I were exhausted and on the drive home we had to play loud music and keep the windows down to stay awake. It was one of those days that make you happy to be a person.

I hung around Galveston during the day. It's a long, thin island with tons of beachfront. I wandered around to the pier and saw the beautiful old oil tankers and barges and cruise ships at the dock, and the fishing trawlers dragging nets back and forth through the bay. It was hot out and when Casey got out of work we went swimming at Stewart Beach Park. I've never felt ocean water so warm. It was like a jacuzzi. It was very salty and easy to float in. The waves broke at odd angles and it was fun getting beat around by them. Little fish swam around between my legs.

We went to Houston that evening. We wandered around the downtown area and ran around to different spots. She grew up in south Houston and knew all the good hangouts. We had an amazing pepper pizza at Star Pizza and then went to a couple bars. There were many people around and lots of good live music. We listened to a few bands and wandered around.

Houston reminds me of Los Angeles, in that it's a huge, sprawling, decentralized city. It's a city built largely on the oil industry, booming in the 1980's when the oil industry there was growing exponentially. Development expanded further and further from the city center and everyone wanted to get out from the old inner neighborhoods to the new fancy developments on the outskirts. Now that the Houston-area oil growth has tapered off, many inner neighborhoods are blighted, many people live far from their jobs in the city, and regional hangout spots have evolved instead of a centralized destination that everyone wants to get to.

Steve went to work at 6:00 a.m., so I got an early start towards Galveston, Texas. I drove through Houston along the way, and decided to stop. Houston has an interesting and unique skyline that reminds me of Legos.

I stopped and found a cafe and got some work done for awhile, then drove the last stretch to Galveston. I hit rush hour traffic exaggerated by a car accident. It took me about 2 hours of stop-and-go driving to get 20 miles. The last 30 miles went quickly. 

Galveston is an long narrow island off the coast of Texas. It's a favorite beach destination for Texans - especially Houstonians - but was devastated by Hurricane Ike in September 2008. The water in Galveston Bay was green and brown, the wind was swirling waves around. I had never seen the Gulf of Mexico before and didn't know what to expect. The color wasn't appealing and I was disappointed. But upon reaching the island I drove inland along Offats Bayou and inside the bay the water was a pure deep beautiful opal blue and I was so surprised and invigorated that I forgot about the horrible traffic.

I met up with Casey (who I'd met in Austin), who generously invited me to stay with her. We went out exploring and took the ferry to Point Bolivar.

The sun was setting and it was very beautiful.

We regrouped and grabbed a bite to eat - seafood po'boys - and went to a couple bars. The first one had a good sense of humor about the hurricane.

We stayed out pretty late and I felt bad because Casey had medical school intern rotations at 7:00 a.m. the next morning. I didn't, so I slept in late.

I finally left Austin and headed towards San Antonio, where I had found a place to stay through couchsurfing.org. I arrived pretty late and had a low-key night hanging out with Chris (my cs host) and his friend Russell.

San Antonio was hot. I went downtown to see The Alamo monument and it was so hot walking around outside that afterwards I found an air conditioned cafe and sat there drinking fluids for an hour. The Alamo:

The Alamo is an old fort that was over-taken by the Mexican army prior to the Mexican-American war. I don't know all the specifics but the rallying cry 'Remember the Alamo!' more or less plunged the United States into war with Mexico. Davy Crockett and other mythical old-time American heroes died at the Alamo. It was hot and it was crowded. I wasn't all that impressed; I think it's mostly a Texas thing. There was a big monument out front.

The rest of San Antonio was pretty neat. The Riverwalk district is nice - there are lots of interesting shops and resteraunts surrounding it. It was too hot during the day but I returned one evening to walk along the river. River taxis went up and down and it was very pleasant.

The Tower of the Americas reminded me a lot of Seattle's Space Needle.

The heat burnt me out of seeing many San Antonio attractions - each day it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit well into the evening. I mainly hung out at cafes and the magnificent downtown library. On my third evening in town I met up with my friend Steve (who I had met up with in Austin the week before). We had dinner and a couple drinks. Steve is a cool guy - I love hanging out with him. He's got a really interesting perspective, he's in the top 5% of his class at the Baylor School of Law, and he likes to backpack alone into the wilderness and live off the land for several days at a time. I'm sure we'll have some adventures in the future.

I got up pretty early when smelled food cooking in the adjacent kitchen. I'd slept on Catherine's couch and everyone was up very early making breakfast. They're all doctors and med students, so it's programmed into their circuitry to wake up very early no matter what time the night ends. I'm not a doctor or a med student and I wanted to get some more sleep. But I also didn't want to miss breakfast. It was a tought decision, but I woke up. It turned out to be a good call because breakfast was good.

We hung out for awhile and then everyone dispersed. Casey drove off to her cousin's son's birthday party in south Texas, but the rest of us planned to meet up later that night in Austin. I was bummed out that Casey was leaving because we got along real well, but we made plans to meet up if I ended up heading towards the Gulf of Mexico.

Maya, who I had met a couple days before, invited me to a water balloon fight. I drove over to her place and about 20 kids were dressed up in war paint and crazy costumes. They had about 500 water balloons packed into the back of a pickup truck. I put on some warpaint of my own and made a war vest out of a big piece of fabric. All of us climbed onto the truck and drove to a nearby park. Apparently there was some type of rivalry between their house and one of their neighbors, and someone had found out that their neighbors were having a picnic. It was less of a fight and more of an ambush. There was lots of elaborate choreography, including a war drum, cream pies, fireworks, a dedicated photographer, etc. We very graciously gave the picnicers a box of water balloons with which to defend themselves before commencing the attack. Then we attacked and totally soaked everybody. Afterwards we brought them a watermelon as a peace offering and they gave us some picnic food. I wish I had pictures, but I didn't bring my camera.

I hung out at Maya's place for awhile afterwards. It was extremely hot and everyone was lazing around like we had won a battle in an actual war. Half of the ambushers fell asleep and I left to get some writing done.

It was Independence Day, and the city of Austin was putting on a fireworks show later that evening along the riverfront. 100,000 folks were expected at Zilker Park and I wandered over there. The crowd was at least that large - every spot of grass was taken. It was like a carnival; tons of food vendors, attractions, entertainment. As the sun set, the Austin Symphony Orchestra played.

No one was answering their phones so I found a spot along the river and watched the fireworks through the trees. The show was really spectacular. It was kind of hard being there alone when everyone else was there with their families and girlfriends and buddies. Normally Austin is great for meeting people, but July 4th is about friends and family, not making friends with sleepy vagabonds. After the show I walked across the river to town. Everyone was dressed to impress and headed to the bars and clubs. I was all sweaty and exhausted and I wandered around for awhile but didn't get too far.

I went back to Randy's place hoping I was still welcome. I hadn't heard from them in awhile, but when I arrived they were all sitting on the porch and they welcomed me back. We played some patio games and I went to sleep.

I stayed in Austin, writing and wandering around for much of the day. On 6th street I ran into this old hotel.

I went to the Whole Foods store again to get some food and ran into Sy. Sy was born in India, but has lived in Texas for years working as an engineer and a teacher. He is a very friendly guy. We chatted for awhile and then he asked me if he could show me his special talent. I said sure. He told me he needed something to write on and I gave him my notebook. He pulled out several colored markers and worked for a few minutes, and then gave me this:

Now my notebook is much fancier. I plan to make a stamp out of this and use it to sign things dramatically. Maybe I'll put it on the front cover of the books I write. Anyway, it was a surprising moment.

At the waterfront the sun set along the river and I got a couple good photos.

I ran into another buddy from school who happened to be in town - Brian. He attends medical school at the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston, TX. He is in Austin doing clinical work and was planning to go out with some friends that evening. He invited me to tag along to get some sushi. I met him at his friend Catherine's house. Brian's medical school buddies Forrest, Katherine, Rod, Casey, and Catherine's brother Wayne were already there. They were all cool and we got along fine. We headed to a fancy sushi place and I wore my first collared shirt in probably a month. On the way from the car to the restaurant a bird crapped on my shoulder and I had to take my shirt off. I think it was a sign...

Dinner was fun and tasty and afterwards we went to the Ginger Man, which had an entire wall of beers on tap. I would say around 75. Maybe more. We hung out for quite awhile and then tried a few other places. 6th street is the epicenter of the downtown nightlife in Austin. The entire area goes crazy every single night. The streets are blocked off and there is live music flowing out of every respectable venue. Tons of food vendor stands fill the air with all sorts of delicious smells. We couldn't resist and stopped at a hot dog place - 'The Best Wurst.' Clever.

We stayed out late and had a blast.