The Sunshine State

Day Three

It's a short 50-mile hop from Mobile to Pensacola Bay. The sight of all that turquoise water reminded me that my dolphin spirit hungers for the sea. The third and last day of my journey blasted a horizontal path across the Florida Panhandle and then carved a straight shot south on I-75 from Lake City to Port Charlotte. 75 was even faster than I'd remembered, and trying to keep up with 90 mph traffic took my breath away. I arrived an hour and a half early due to unavoidable high-speed travel. Driving the speed limit would have been more dangerous than keeping up with traffic. It was only when traffic slowed to 80 just south of Tampa that I loosened my white-knuckle grip.

For the past five days I've been visiting with the parents, force-feeding myself large meals mid-afternoon, and spending inordinate amounts of time sleeping. This morning I went for a long walk on Venice's Caspersen Beach, one of the most beautiful beaches in the U.S.





"The Shark Tooth Capital of the World," Venice is one of the few West Coast Florida cities without a barrier island. Millions of prehistoric shark teeth wash up on the beaches of Venice annually. Sharks of all species continually shed their teeth and grow new ones. They have 40 or more teeth in each jaw. Behind the functional rows of teeth are seven other rows of teeth developing into mature dentures to replace teeth as they are shed or lost. In ten years, an average Tiger shark can produce as many as 24,000 teeth. The fossilized Miocene Epoch shark teeth found on Venice beaches are between 5 and 25 million years old. I find it staggering to think that the little teeth I've found in the sand might be as much as 25 million years old. They don't look a day over 15 million.

I scored an impressive shark's tooth - Mako, I think - in Papa's Bait Shop on the Venice Pier. It would have been more fun to find it free-diving in the Gulf, but it will still make a nice addition to my shark tooth collection, and I can wear this one.

Blew Bayou

Day Two

With the long stretch of Texas high plains behind me, I headed east toward Louisiana and the Deep South (the scary states), tired but hopeful to make Mobile by nightfall. At the Louisiana Welcome Center, I stopped for an hour to dig through the cooler for hard boiled eggs, cinnamon mini-muffins, grapes, and a smoothie. After this tasty picnic repast, I grabbed some zzzzz's in the parking lot, and in a short while was once again cruising down the highway.


Crossing the Mississippi at Vicksburg, MS, the possibility of making Mobile by dark seemed quite doable.


There's something a little creepy about driving through the southern states, especially Louisiana. You just never know what will crawl out of those bayous. I guess I watched too many swamp thing movies in the 50's. Mississippi isn't much better, only in the Magnolia State it isn't reptilian creatures, but state troopers, that scare the bejeezus out of me.

I pulled into Mobile at 6:30, bought a basket of juicy peaches at a roadside stand, rented a deluxe room with jacuzzi, and spent the evening hopping between spa and bed. Thoughts of palm trees and not having to drive anywhere for at least a week lulled me into a deep sleep.

Cowboy Blues

Day One - Continued

The 300 mile drive across the high plains from Amarillo to Dallas took me through small, run-down Texas towns. Endless flat vistas punctuated only by the occasional grain silo made the drive seem much longer. Signs of civilization were absent for much of the ride. In Childress I found a Wal-Mart and stopped for some picnic necessities. It was the only big box store I found for several hundred miles. This in itself makes U.S. 287 a national treasure.



The sun went down before I got to Dallas, home to the World's Worst Drivers.


After 715 miles and a grueling passage through Dallas, I found a room in Terrell, east of the city, at a less-than-desirable Day's Inn. The pickings were slim: this was the third place I'd stopped at and I was prepared to sleep in the car if necessary. Room 162 possessed an unpleasant, palpable aura of humanity sheltered within its walls over the years, and I was happy to have brought slippers so my feet would not have to touch the grimy carpet. I slept only 3 hours, skipped the unremarkable "breakfast" served in a corner of the dingy lobby, and escaped early in the morning bound for Mobile and, with luck, better accommodations.

Signs of Life

Emerging from an intense work binge that has consumed my life for two months, I look around and wonder where I am. Physically I'm in Florida, after a three-day, marathon 1900 mile drive from Albuquerque to Port Charlotte. But the last few days my head has been in the Twilight Zone. This is largely due to lack of sleep and 80 hour work weeks since late April. "Ungrounded" doesn't begin to describe the depletion I'm experiencing.

Day One

It was fun traveling without human and canine companionship--just me and my CDs on the open road. The first day was probably the most interesting. I enjoyed the drive from New Mexico to Texas on I-40, eventually saying goodbye to tumbleweed and mesas that yielded to cattle ranches and grain silos.

East of Tucumcari I stopped to grab a smoothie out of the cooler and caught a glimpse of the Llano Estacado. Part of the High Plains, the Llano Estacado, or "palisaded plains," straddles New Mexico and Texas along the border. This large mesa occupies 37,500 square miles. As I haven't yet perfected the art of levitation, this aerial photo isn't mine, but it's probably better than anything I could have shot from the ground.


I noticed something odd in the distance as I approached Amarillo.


This strange site was just too compelling to ignore. At the next exit I doubled back to check out Cadillac Ranch, a unique work of art that sits on the sprawling ranch belonging to eccentric Stanley Marsh, 3. (He uses "3" because he feels "III" is "too pretentious.") Ten Cadillacs buried in the earth and heavily layered with graffiti decorate the horizon. Children and adults armed with spray paint and Magic Markers were gathered around these rusty relics to leave their marks. Discarded cans littered the ground and the air was heavy with paint fumes.




After a quick examination of the colorful display, I hurried back to the car to see what else Texas had in store for me. I didn't have to travel far.



But the strangest sight of all was the herd of camels grazing in lush grassland outside of Wichita Falls. That's right, dozens of camels staring at passing cars. Dromedaries. One hump.

To be continued...

Warning: Do Not Take Hallucinogens Before Watching

Lately, I feel a bit like the woman in this video, reshaping myself every few seconds to suit the needs of my clients, all of them having immediate, pressing needs. Like that old 60's song says, "Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me." Work has been impossible lately. I love my work, but after 15 or 16 consecutive hours of sitting at the computer, I'm ready for a break. I haven't taken a real weekend in a month. Meals have been missed, phone calls ignored, and friends forgotten. My entire universe has revolved around a 19 inch computer monitor these past few weeks. I'm ready for a vacation.

Ironically, it's that very ability to meet my clients' needs quickly that has opened many doors and helped me land new business, so I'm reluctant to change my ways in any significant fashion. Admittedly, though, some days are rough. Some tell me I'm not good with boundaries and don't know how to say "no." Others applaud my efforts to meet deadlines and commitments. I suspect there's a middle ground someplace in this vortex where I can be kind to myself and helpful to clients. In the present moment, however, that place eludes me. This shapeshifter is bone tired.

Enjoy the video. You will be hearing more from me in the coming days, when I hit the road, alone, for a very long drive to Florida to visit loved ones and stock up on raw orange blossom honey to bring back to New Mexico.

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Happy June, everyone! Thought for today: Live every day as if it's your last, because one day it will be.