Fortifying Sacramento's McKinley Park OR The Tiny Bomb and the Fishy Lion

Ask most people to name a city in California, and they will immediately respond with either Los Angeles or San Francisco. Then perhaps San Diego, or Oakland, or Malibu, or "That Place Where Clint Eastwood was Mayor."

Also Yosemite, which isn't actually a city because it's too awesome.*

Unless they're politically-minded or have family from there, not many will mention Sacramento. Even though it's the capital, Sac unfortunately has to compete with cultural giants (or possibly black holes) that grab everyone's attention.

But enough social commentary. While Sacramento is a story of its own right, it's also a big city, and a little much for one post.

So let's look at one part of one neighborhood:

McKinley Park.

Located somewhat near downtown, this park is quite large. There's a duck pond complete with a fountain. One corner has a rose garden. Tennis courts, picnic areas, a pool, large green fields, even horseshoe stakes (oh yes, horseshoes).

While these are awesome, these weren't what grabbed my attention while walking through the park (very slowly) with my 2-year-old niece.

I know, adorable, right?

No, what really grabbed my attention was this thing:

Stately Fort McKinley

Here was this enormous rustic, wood playground filled with all sorts of awesomeness. Were I a child, I would have run all over and enjoyed the hell out of that playground.

Since we had a child with us, we did just that.

And let me tell you: It was pretty awesome.

Partway through following my niece in circles (Going down the slide once was unacceptable. She had to go ten times or not at all), I found an informative plaque that upped the awesome ante.

See, I thought it was a pretty neat playground before when I thought it was the result of good budgetary spending.

But it was far more awesome than even I had previously imagined. (What a strange, strange sentence I just wrote…)

Where would we be without informative plaques?

In case it's hard to read (understandable, since I shrunk it down), it states that in October of 1994, 2500 volunteers got together in a single 4-day span to construct this playground for children and their community. It also garnered support of several companies (dutifully listed on the plaque).

Say what you want about certain oddities of the playground, that's pretty neat. Before we get too sappy I'm gonna move on, but leave you with these guys:

Half lion, half fish... All perfect fort defense animal.

Meanwhile, across the street on the far side of the park, nestled a small english village.

Possibly French. Definitely not from around here...

The ice cream immediately caught my attention because, well… Ice. Cream.

Also, how can you resist this?

I mention this particular place for a few reasons:
1) It was a new local business, and I have a soft spot for local businesses.
2) I chatted with one of the owners and he is the ONLY person I've met who once lived in Los Angeles and left WHO STILL LIKES LA. (If you've lived there, you know what I'm talking about.)

And finally, 3) I've never seen ice cream that looked like these:

Over my shoulder are a wife and brother-in-law telling me to take the damn picture so they can eat...

They're a tiny version of a French dessert called a bombe, so they call them Petite Bombes. Layers of ice cream, jam/syrup, more ice cream, on a waffle base.

My brother, his wife, and his niece have since moved (they were right around the corner), but when in town, I plan to revisit this tiny slice of Sacramento with its strong community sense.

…And its tiny ice cream bombs.

*Yosemite picture courtesy www.pachd.com

Floating Through Columbia, Missouri OR The Redeeming Flame of Knowledge

Right up front I'm gonna be blunt: There's not as many pictures this time around because I almost gave Columbia a miss. It's a relatively large city, somewhat known, and, frankly, I had a horrible experience upon first arriving there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The last stopover on our journey was Columbia, MO, located on I-70 about halfway across Missouri. The next day we were going to arrive at our destination.

It had been extremely hot all day. I love my A/C, but even the hardiest A/C could do nothing when we stopped at rest stops. I'll also admit a few days of steady driving may have put me in a bad frame of mind…

...But it still sucks when you show up at the hotel you purposefully pre-booked for its "Pet Friendly" policy and find out that their definition of "pets" does not, in fact, include cats.

Also that they refused to offer me a refund because I booked it through a site. Also that they didn't tell me this until AFTER I followed their posted "Pet disclosure policy" and told them I had two cats. I wish I could say the guy handled the situation with any grace whatsoever, but alas...

To get to the point and step away from the anger, by the time we had found another hotel, booked the room, and sweated our way through unloading the car, I really didn't feel like exploring.

We endeavored to at least go find a tasty restaurant for dinner and headed off into the night… (which was totally completely bright, since it was only about 7:30).

...And I'm glad we did. Because we found this library:

Behold, I bring you the giant metal flame of knowledge.

As a writer and avid reader, I will freely admit a weakness for libraries, but this was a pretty cool library.

I honestly drove by, turned around, and stopped to get the photo. My respect for Columbia instantly rose a little.

Even the parking lot had flare! (Heh)

(Side note: It also helped that the SECOND hotel had been incredibly understanding and appropriately shocked/confused by the first hotel's policy. Which is why I will mention them by name: Good job, Days Inn, Columbia. Let that be a customer service lesson for you all.)

Anyway, now that my mood was starting to look brighter (heh) and my interest was aflame (heh), I looked around with the fire of curiosity. (Okay, I'll stop now.)

One of the things I noticed about Columbia was the INSANE amount of trees.

Seriously. Every street we drove down looked like this:

There are houses there. Honest!

"Big deal," you say. Yes, but consider the rest of the day was this:

Some trees, yes, but mostly fields. And emptiness.

And before that, a lot of this:

Though I do really like the windmills... But still no trees.

Even on the other side of the freeway from our hotel it was solid trees and park land right up to the concrete factory…

...And then more trees on the other side of said factory. I think Columbia is lining itself up for a title run on the City of Trees championship. (Watch your back, Sacramento!)

So we drove around, meandering through tree-lined street after tree-lined street until we found a pretty good Thai restaurant. I mostly mention this because I'm still a little startled to find good Thai in random places, despite its widespread nature.

Also I was entertained by how excited the waitstaff was about their big news: As of that day, their beer license was valid. And they were busier than ever, serving mostly crappy American beer. Proving that you can put the Thai in Missouri, but it's still gonna be in Missouri.

On the way back, we drove by part of the University of Missouri campus, which looked rather stately and peaceful, like all campuses when most of the students aren't there.

We finished our day with a quick dip in the Days Inn pool, gently aggressively warmed by the sun during the day. Seriously, I've been in hot tubs as warm as that pool…

...But it was still cooler than the air.

So while not entirely eventful, thank you, Columbia, for your shady trees, awesome library, tasty Thai, and reminding me that one ridiculous fool does not a city make.

Can You Sass Hays, Kansas OR Hays Is My Forte

About halfway through Kansas on I-70 lies a largish town called Hays.

Seemed as good a place as any to break up the Kansas leg of the voyage, so we stopped for a good night's rest and local exploration.

I'm going to come right out and say this up front:

With all apologies to the people of Hays, Kansas (All 20,000 of them, 17th biggest city in Kansas!), their town is not a place full of excitement.

You could always visit The Mall. The only one worthy of the name...

Granted, we weren't there when the University of Hays was in session, and missed the Hays Museum of Natural History (apparently it has something to do with dinosaurs), but still:

Central Kansas is flat, peaceful, and has a lot of open, empty space.

...But that doesn't mean it's not interesting.

See, as this plaque informs me…

Informative!

...Hays was the site of one Fort Hays from 1867 to 1889, tasked with keeping the plains and such areas safe.

Complete with creepy cutouts to mess with you at a distance!

Harder to see... But still creepy.

At one point, it had 560 soldiers stationed here (thank you, plaque), but by the time it was abandoned in 1889 only had 17. Staying in cute houses like these:

The fort was much bigger than this, but still... Not bad for the 1870s...

Keep safe from who, do you ask? (Or "From whom?" if you're proper.)

Why, those Native Americans colloquially termed "Plains Indians."

Also bison. The day you underestimate a buffalo is the day you dig your grave...

It's easy to forget in the modern era of boring peaceful Kansas that for about 20 years in there it was a war zone.

Look closer...

A "soldier" chillin' Old School style... Also, totally about to go on a rampage.

And it wasn't just the Indian Wars. It's easy to forget (I often do) that Dodge City was in Kansas. Or that Wild Bill Hickok and Buffalo Bill Cody wandered 'round these parts.

Heck, Custer and the 7th cavalry were briefly stationed near Fort Hays. (Yes, "heck". It seems appropriate.)

But Hays doesn't forget. They're proud of their part of western history, despite the fact that "The West" moved on to the Rockies and the Pacific.

Even the library celebrates their fort-ness.

A Fort-ness Book Fortress, if you will.

And there was more to find 'round these parts. From the neat theater showing old movies…

Note the 101° temperature and 8:06pm time. Hays does a great "surface of the sun" impression.

...to the historical plaque reminding us that while the Army moved on in 1889, they didn't really forget Hays.

Walker Field, Texas Ranger

It's a little hard to read, but it basically says from 1942-1946 B-29 "Superfortress" crews were trained in Hays, going on to be pretty influential in WWII.

So while some of us discounted Hays as a tiny city in a flat state you just want to get through quickly (I know I did!), the truth is sometimes random places can be a large part of what things have become today.

…Oh, and I guess that makes a B-29 from Hays a "Fort-ness Super Fortress."

Bouncing Through Glenwood Springs, Colorado OR Doc Holliday Takes a Soak and Swims with the Fishes!

Deciding where to stop in in the Rockies part of I-70 is like picking a Ben & Jerry's flavor: They all sound pretty good, and for each one you have a friend who swears it's the best, but in the end you gotta make a choice and take a chance. 

Since it was summer, I couldn't go skiing, and a friend had shown me a picture of Doc Holliday's grave from Glenwood Springs, so what the hell!

And I think I made a good choice:

I clearly chose Cherry Garcia

As I found out shortly upon arriving, Glenwood Springs is named for… Wait for it…

...Hot springs.

Of course, when we think of hot springs, we think of natural basins filled with steaming, colorful water, inviting us to sooth our aches and pains…

...A hundred years ago, it was probably just that. Now, however it look a little different.

Which is, honestly, pretty cool.

I'm told it's the world's largest hot springs pool. I seriously hope so, because it's enormous. 

We arrived too late to enjoy much more than a scenic tour and a nice dinner (don't let the late June pictures fool you: It's around 8:30 or 9 when these were taken), but I still really enjoyed it.

The downtown area has several cute little shoppes:

Go ahead. Just try to call these "shops." You will fail.

There's several neat cultural things of small-town life:

The "meeting room" looked like chairs on a patio. Best conference room ever.

And like many long-term resort/tourist/destination towns there was a certain degree of international flavor.

The cafe attached to our motel. Yes, the owners appeared to be Bavarian. No, we did not meet Rosi.

But several things reminded me that this wasn't a johnny-come-lately resort town. This place had been here for years, both for the springs and as valuable place along the way across the country:

What it looks like now with the Interstate... 

...Twist two inches and what it probably looked like pre-Interstate.

Truth is: For every modern attraction like a zip-line, gondola to the vista, mini golf course, and, of course, the pool, there was some sign of the old frontier town from a century ago.

"Glenwood Springs Post Independent: We Spit in the Face of Time."

And their mere presence shows something else:

People who live here care about their town and like it.

Rather than rip an old building down and put something shiny and new there, they remodel it and build a restaurant or shoppe into the old place.

Don't get me wrong. There was plenty of construction around, and all the various other signs of a town that's growing and doing pretty well.

But there was also this:

The basement of this building had an insanely packed Italian restaurant.

You see "For Rent." I see "Let's embrace the old, keep the building around and rent it out."

Maybe I have a soft spot for history (I do), maybe I'm a sucker for sentimentalism (also true), maybe I just like the idea of blending the old with the new (is a great idea!), but I smiled when I saw that sign instead of a for sale or notice of demolition.

Oh, and for those of you wondering when Doc Holliday was gonna enter into all this…

...Right across the street was this place:

Nothing like drinkin' with an enormous gun above your head...

Evidence that sometimes when embrace history, you might also exploit it a little.

And really, as long as you still respect it, is that really so bad?

The Town of Ely, Nevada OR Ely Come, Ely Go!

There are only a few ways across the center of Nevada: Interstate 80 in the north, route 6 slicing it's way northeast, and route 50, also called the Loneliest Road in America.

About 60 miles from the Utah border, 6 and 50 meet up in the small town of Ely, NV. (Pronounced ee-lee. Don't ask me why.)

It's about 4,000 people, and has a history as a pony express station, mining town, and traveler's stop-over…

...But I knew none of this. While journeying across the country, I chose Ely solely based on location and size. I wasn't sure what to expect, and the first thing upon entering was this guy:

I thought they didn't let miners into casinos... (Hah!)

A not so subtle reminder that you're still in Nevada, and with every Nevada town comes a casino.

At first glance it's easy to drive through the downtown of Ely.

It's got a couple casinos, some bars, and rather nice park, a couple restaurants… And then you're off, out of the town and back onto whatever trip you had planned…

...But take a look at the side of the casino up there. The one with the ass on it. (Not that kind of ass, silly.) Right below it is a mural.

There's also one here:

And here:

And over here:

And there were at least ten more throughout the town. Even in completely random places:

Only the best electric meter west of the Mississippi!

At first glance it seems people are kept alive only by the chance that a highway went through their town, and this would, of course, make them depressed, yearning to leave their tiny town…

...Except it seems many of the people of Ely actually do love living there. The large park just off the main drag was filled with people, celebrating the summer and having picnics. (It WAS July 3rd, so that's partially why.)

We saw posters for two different art fairs in the park, and two different theater fests.

And just behind the casinos are neighborhoods. Cute, tree-lined ones right out the idyllic manual. We found a rather large baseball diamond and stadium just next to the fire station that was really well-maintained. Hell, I almost wanted to play ball just to play there. (Almost.)

Not to mention the murals and historic sculpture:

That plaque mentions how the mayor has a thing for art and culture, which does explain the murals...

But more importantly, the plaque explains how the town was once a mining town for many, many years, much like most of Nevada.
The railroad and later route 50 kept the town going, keeping it relevant and alive while the mining towns around it crumbled. There's even an old smokestack in one of the neighborhoods just off the main area.

A guy in a pickup actually stopped to not be in the frame.
Seriously. These are some nice people.

The only remnant of a long gone ore processing plant or smelter.

But the people were good people. People who found themselves on one of the crossroads of life… And decided to stay there.

We ate at a local Mexican restaurant where the entry walls were COVERED with pictures of people in the "Birthday Sombrero."

They had three different choices, all of them incredibly ornate and authentic, and clearly many locals love to go there in their birthdays and take a silly picture with an awesome hat. And who doesn't love silly pictures with awesome hats?

Well, whoever those silly hat haters are, Ely will have no part of them. And quite honestly, neither would I.