I'm just back from a week in central Florida. I was there for work, so most of the daylight hours were spent indoors at a convention, but I used the time before and after meetings the best I could. I'd have to check the weather almanac, but it seems like this winter in Utah has been one of the coldest we've had in a while. And after months of scraping ice off my car windows and walking the streets of downtown Salt Lake City in sub-zero temps, this trip to the Sunshine State was a godsend.

I flew into Orlando in the evening, and my first order of business was to find some good barbecue- something unfortunately Utah lacks completely. After checking in, I drove over to the Orange Blossom Trail and had dinner at Sonny's Barbecue on the recommendation of my brother, who served an LDS mission there for two years. I had the pork trio- ribs, pulled pork, and sliced pork, with coleslaw and beans on the side. It doesn't beat any of my favorite BBQ joints in Texas, but it was still extremely delicious. Once nice touch that brought joy to my soul- when they brought me my check, they gave me a 32 oz. Diet Coke to go.

It was too late to make the 46 mile drive to Cocoa Beach, so I went to Walt Disney World and walked around Downtown Disney for a few hours.

The next morning I left my hotel at 4 AM and drove to Cocoa Beach. Heavy rain had drenched the little surf town and was still falling strong when I pulled into the parking lot of the famed Ron Jon Surf Shop, which is open 24/7. The Cocoa Beach store wasn't the first Ron Jon's, but it is arguably the chain's most popular location.



I have a lot of Ron Jon t-shirts- all of which I bought for $3 or less at the Valley Fair Mall in West Valley City, Utah. The manufacturer that Ron Jon contracts with for their clothing also has a contract with this little store to sell their "damaged" goods. So whenever a Ron Jon t-shirt or hoodie comes out of the factory with an ink stain or a logo that's misplaced by a few millimeters, it ends up in this little Utah store for next to nothing.

Shirts in the actual store go for about $25.

I'm not sure where surf bums get their money, but they must be buying this outrageously priced clothing or companies like Quicksilver and Hurley would be going out of business. I was a little disappointed that all I could justify there was a bumper sticker (sorry, Hurley, as much as I dig your style and the "freedom company" tagline, what fool pays $45 for a mediocre quality shirt?).

When the rain stopped and the sun rose I walked to the Cocoa Beach Pier, a rustic combination of gift shops and restaurants- all of which were still closed. The pier itself was open, so I walked out and watched the waves, which seemed higher than usual- maybe because of the storm. A group of surfers were paddling the waves just off the pier, and the morning was so quiet that I could clearly hear all of their conversations.

Further in the distance a school of dolphins was surfing and hopping waves less than 50 yards from the shore. Aside from the dolphins, the surfers, some pelicans and myself, the beach was completely empty.


After strolling the pier, I returned to the sand and walked south for about a mile and back, picking up a few of the morning's best seashells to take home for the boys. After a few hours on the beach I drove to the Kennedy Space Center, stopping along the way at a private orange orchard to buy and chug a pint of freshly squeezed OJ. I don't know how I'll ever drink Minute Maid again.

Labels: American South, Trip Reports

Simpson Springs Pony Express Station
(photo by Clint Thomsen)

"It was 10-something in the evening and 20-something Fahrenheit in the high desert. Several hours of side road exploration had taken its toll, and the cold was sapping the day's remaining energy. Tired and happy, we stared into the flames in content silence the way campers have for millennia. It's difficult to translate into words the deep, intrinsic bond between man and fire. The pop and flicker of dancing flames zero in on any rightly constructed boy like a hypnotist's watch, warming the soul and sparking the mind as it mesmerizes.

Tyler opened cans of chili and Spaghettios with a hammer and screwdriver, as I had forgotten my Leatherman.

'I can't wait to see what this place looks like in the day,' he said."

Cold, cold night, awesome morning.

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Labels: American West, Ghost Towns, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

For those of you following the life of Hunter Greyson Keel, which I touched on a few weeks ago, I'm sad to inform you that he passed away on January 11. I received a note from his mother several days ago. In it, she said that Hunter's first Christmas was wonderful, and that Hunter passed comfortably as she held him in her arms.

You can read his obituary here.

Amber, you and Dennis are in my thoughts and prayers.

"Even if you're not familiar with the word "geode," you probably know exactly what they look like after they've been cut and polished. They're the rough rounded rocks with hollow, crystal-lined cavities that you see in abundance at museum gift shops and on bosses' desks at work. These spherical wonders began as gas-filled lava bubbles produced by ancient volcanoes and formed over millions of years. Large deposits of geodes are located along the old Pony Express route that winds through Tooele and Juab counties.

My friend Dave had invited Tyler and I down to the Dugway geode beds, and we decided to bring our kids along for the adventure. I jump at any chance to drive the Pony Express route because it's a history-paved road through some of the most desolately beautiful terrain in the state. The 133-mile-long byway passes strange geological phenomena, station house ruins, and the only real pet cemetery I've ever heard of or seen. Whether you're a trail-weary express rider in 1860 or a Mountain Dew-sipping road-tripper in 2008, the landscape along most of the route looks exactly the same."

A drink of Lake Bonneville, anyone?

Head over to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Regular readers of this website know of my fascination with the American South. I'm a 5th generation Utahn on both sides, and before marrying my Texas belle I had never set foot in a southern state. Yet every time I visit the South, I feel like I'm coming home. The South is an essential element of Americana. It's more than just the food, the music, and culture. It's the underlying roots of these things- a unique blend of nature, peoples, and history- that have fused together in time's crucible to form a rich and enduring character.

I'm not sure, as an outsider, that I can ever truly understand the South. Author/Guide/Blogger/History buff Debra Goodrich does. Deb was born in Mt. Airy, NC- Andy Griffith's home town and the real-life model for the fictional "Mayberry". She grew up in the nearby Blue Ridge foothills and is a southern girl to the core. She has spent much of her life researching the historic figures and events that shaped the South. I recently asked her for some insight on the South, and the following is the first half of our cyber interview:

BONNEVILLEMARINER: If you could travel back in time only once to any point in southern history, where would you go and which event would you witness?

DEB GOODRICH: I would go back to about 1850, to Ararat, Virginia, and Mount Airy, North Carolina, where I grew up. The communities--The Hollow, Doe Run, My great-grandparents and great-great grandparents would have been children, and when I read the census reports from that year it awakens so much curiosity in me about the families that would intermarry, the roads that would be built, the men who would go off to war. Jeb Stuart's family was still in the neighborhood, and I would like to hang out at the post office and watch the families stopping to get their mail. I'd like to go to Galax and Fries and Independence, over to Indian Valley, up to Roanoke, down to Winston and Salem and Boone and Yadkinville across the state line. So there is no real event I'd choose to see, just the daily lives of my ancestors.

BM: If you could have dinner with one historical southern figure, who would it be and why?

DG: I've thought often about this and posed the question to several folks myself, and the answer is difficult. Since I've been working for so long on the life of Varina Davis, I would most enjoy sitting down with her, but at what point in her life and in what context? Varina, like most Southern society, or society of any part of the world, was conscious of class. Would she accept me as a reporter? Since she was a writer, I think so, but I'm not sure. As an author, I might be acceptable on her social level, but as just a "Common White," as my former professor put it, Varina might not feel free to open up to me. Would I want to interview the First Lady of the Confederacy, a woman shuffling children and national diplomacy? Or would I choose to speak with the elderly Varina who had suffered the deaths of five children and her husband who could reflect on her extraordinary life? Would she be insulted, embarrassed, exposed to know I had read the private letters between her and her husband or closest friends? She possessed a tremendous heart, which grew as she grew older, but had been so wounded. A part of my desire to talk with her is simply woman to woman, not as a journalist or historian, but simply as someone who has been inspired by her courage and compassion. I would very much like to take her hand between mine and tell her how often I have thought of her and wished her peace.

BM: A southern-based travel agent once told me "When you come here, the South will get in your blood. Doesn't matter if you go to Louisiana, Kentucky, or North Carolina. It's all the same. It'll be in your blood for the rest of your life." What is it about the American South that makes it so distinct? What makes it bleed so deep into the American psyche?

DG: Many people have tried to answer this, and I understand it more deeply and believe it more strongly as I travel, but find it more difficult to put into words. Perhaps watching Paula Deen on the Food Channel explains it best. People perceive Southerners as having more fun. I hate to make it sound that trivial, but I believe at the heart of the matter, that is it. There's all this hype about storytelling and Southern hospitality, and the pace of life's being slower in the South, but I think what this all boils down to is "We're having more fun!" That's why people visit the South, move to the South, won't leave the South. Church and Family and Society translate to getting together-for food, for music, for drink. Even for the Baptists who don't drink in public, the ultimate goal is always a party. People are forever planning how to get together, where to get together, when to get together, and who's going to bring the potato salad. That is the focus of Southern life. Some folks manage a job or some major accomplishments along the way, but that's pretty much it--getting together.

Stay tuned for part II. You can check out Deb's musings at her blog, Mason-Dixon Wild West. For information on tours, books, and talks, visit www.tomanddeb.com.

Labels: American South, History, Weekly Run-Down

"At about mile marker 20, the Silver Island Mountains appear to part like Moses' Red Sea, with one mountain drifting eastward until it seems to float a good distance from the rest of the solid range.

Floating Island is the king of optical illusions. The "floating" effect is created by a combination of empty distance and flat land nearly perfectly aligned with the curvature of the planet. From the vantage point of highway, Floating Island's base is behind the curve and thus is not visible. Once I learned the secret behind this geographic magic trick, I vowed to someday chase the mirage."

Mountains? Check. History-drenched trails? Check. Big caves? Check. This was a great trip.

Perfectionists and deadlines don't mix very well, so I'm rarely completely satisfied with how these Transcript Bulletin articles turn out. But if there's one I'm most satisfied with so far, it's this one.

Surprisingly, this is also the one article so far that I've had to write by hand on paper. Which is a big thing for me because I'm not a paper and pen guy. I don't buy paper. I don't print stuff. For a guy who's always longing for the good old days, I am completely immersed in the digital age (my way of living a balanced life I guess). When my wife compiles a "honey-do" list, she knows the only way I'll pay attention to it is if she emails it to me. Other than some Christmas cards last month, I can't remember the last time I actually mailed a physical letter, and I haven't actually handwritten anything since college.

So without a PC or an Internet connection that day I was forced to break out the pen and paper, scribble it out, then try to read my own handwriting when I typed it up later.

Head over to the Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full article.

Oh, in case you might wonder after reading the article, we did eventually find some Mormon tea, and it tastes horrible- no matter how much sugar and honey you stir in. It definitely falls under that don't-try-it-at-home category I wrote about in November.

Labels: American West, History, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

Click over to the Transcript Bulletin to read the full article.

Incidentally, the pirate sword Coulter is holding (below) is one of those nifty sound/light effects swords. The thing worked great when it was still in Santa's sleigh, but for some reason quit working once he opened it up. We were going to see if we could send it back or trade it somewhere, but decided to let him take the broken sword on this trip.

When we parked the car in Davy Jones' locker, I went to open the trunk and heard the sword inside just clanking and swiping away. It's worked fine ever since.

Labels: American West, Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports

I've been having one of those weeks where for some reason my mind works only in list format- lists of things to do, new years resolutions, ideas for my Transcript Bulletin articles, database server IP's for work, etc. So in keeping with this peculiar train of thought, this week's round-up consists of two unrelated random lists that have been floating around in my head lately.

Faces I'd like to see less of in outdoor magazines:

Every outdoors nut loves outdoors magazines. I read them because I like to analyze the writing styles in the feature articles and look at the numerous gear ads (I imagine having enough money to actually buy the stuff). But these mags also hack me off because they all practically worship an elite pantheon of "adventure gods."

Take Richard Branson, for example. The prettyboy billionaire Virgin CEO is everywhere. I'm hard-pressed to open any outdoors magazine and not see his his dyed blonde locks flowing somewhere within its pages. Sure, when he's not doing photo shoots for outdoors magazines, he's breaking world records, flitting around the globe on his planes, and building spaceships. But when you have that much time and money, what else are you going to do?

Then there's Aron Ralston, the solo climber that got pinned under a boulder in Utah's remote Blue John Canyon and had to cut his own arm off with a knock-off Leatherman. Outdoor magazines can't get enough of him. But had Ralston taken a partner with him or simply not survived the ordeal, he would have been lucky to get a blip on the local news along with snowboarders buried in avalanches they've accidentally triggered and fools stuck on ledges.

And I admire Lance Armstrong all day long, but reading the major outdoor magazines you'd think he was the only person ever to don spandex shorts and ride a bike. I like the guy, but I'm not sure we need a cover story on him every other month.

Gee, that was a grumpy list, huh? Let's get to the positive.

Some of my favorite writers:

I'm not really into fiction. What little reading time I get I'd rather spend with history, news, or real-life stories. I don't have time for pretend. So I apologize that J.K Rowling and John Grisham don't make my list. A good non-fiction writer can spin computer programming instructions into the most thrilling thing you've ever read. Here are a few of my favorites:

My favorite writer is freelancer Steve Friedman. I discovered him in Backpacker Magazine, but he's regularly published in major newspapers like The New York Times and The Washington Post, and is the author of three books. His writing style is a combination of self-deprecating humor and what I like to call "thinking out loud." I'd love to link to some of my favorite Friedman articles, but his website is under construction and the links to past articles have been (hopefully temporarily) removed. One of his more recent pieces, Lost in America, was featured in Best American Travel Writing 2007. Read it at backpacker.com.

Another of my favorites is Tom Goodrich. Tom is a Civil War historian and the author of several books (my favorite is Scalp Dance). He currently writes for Wild West Magazine's official blog. When he's not writing books or shooting the breeze on his blog, Tom and wife Deb (who we'll hear from on this website probably next week) can often be seen talking history in TV documentaries. Tom has a knack for digging to the heart of his subjects and telling stories in the words of the participants themselves. I always tell people my goal is to write campfire stories. These are the kind of stories Tom writes.

Dan Baum is another freelancer, whose articles have appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, Wired, and other national magazines. He collaborates with Margaret Knox and most everything, but most of their stuff appears under his byline. Dan's work lately has focused on post-Katrina New Orleans, and his New Orleans Journal on The New Yorker's website is an excellent read. He and Margaret are working on a book about New Orleans that's due out next year.

Richard Menzies is best known for his work in the Salt Flat News, a quirky Wendover-based newspaper that ran in the early 1970's. Menzies' articles and unique photographs made the Salt Flat News a collector's item. "The original idea was that we would have a newspaper where nothing happens in the middle of nowhere," Menzies said in an interview with the Deseret News.

Menzies' most recent work is "Passing Through: An Existential Journey Across America's Outback." This book chronicles Menzies' experiences in the forgotten hinterlands of eastern Utah and western Nevada. The book is a must-read for anybody interested in these mysterious deserts and the people who call them home.

Labels: Weekly Run-Down

"I've never felt closer to death than I felt that night. My extremities were numb and the rest of my body stung like a second-degree burn. We talked as much as we could, trying to laugh about our predicament. After a while, Chan and Tyler were silent. The psychological trauma was almost worse than the cold itself. I didn't want to fall asleep for fear my life would slip away, but the thought of laying awake and counting the seconds until morning was almost a more horrifying prospect. I slipped in and out, checking my watch sometimes several times per minute."

This week's article is a refined version of the story I submitted to Rock and Ice Magazine's writing contest, adapted for newspaper format. If you've already read that one, don't worry. This version is different enough to be interesting.

Go to the Tooele Transcript Bulletin's website to read the full story.

Labels: Transcript Bulletin, Trip Reports