United StatesFloridaMiami-DadeLittle Havana25°46’7” N 80°13’51” W
May 11 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
23:30
It’s been a long, but fruitful day.
I’m on the road before 08:00, headed East towards the Atlantic coast. I swing by Spook Hill - a gravity hill, that makes it appear that your car is rolling uphill. It’s an optical illusion, but still kinda weird to get your head around.
My first pit-stop is nearly 3 hours down the road, but worth the journey/detour. Morikami is a beautiful Japanese garden, a couple of miles inland from the coast. It’s incredibly serene, and I spend a hugely enjoyable hour or so, just ambling around the different garden sections. I see a giant terrajeff, happily swimming in one of the several lakes. There’s a bonsai exhibition, with some spectacular specimens, some of which are over 100 years old. The sun’s beating down, but there are plenty of shady spots to keep out of it.
I’m only about 50 miles North of Miami, but have another few hours in the car. Traffic is heavy for a Saturday afternoon. I head for Hollywood Beach, just South of Fort Lauderdale, The mercury’s nudging 38C, so instead of walking up and down the sunbaked boardwalk, I stop in a beachfront café for a couple of tacos, and an ultra cold beer. In the space of 5 minutes, I see 3 of the most pneumatically enhanced women I think I’ve ever seen. Honestly - the chest on one of them looks like it must require regular topping up with a bicycle pump.
I continue South, into Miami. The drive into the city centre feels familiar, despite my never having been here. I attribute this to the many TV shows I’ve watched that are based in the city. My AirBnB is in South Miami, in Little Havana. I find it easily enough. The room’s great - part of a Cuban casita. Everything I need, nothing I don’t. I freshen up and head out for a drink. I’m meeting my buddy Dré at 19:00, and figure I should be able to find a decent Mojito to keep me company.
I happen upon a Cuban bar called Guantanamera. Heading inside, I’m a little shocked to encounter thick clouds of cigar smoke. I’d thought/assumed that smoking of any kind indoors would be verboten anywhere in the US. Apparently not. These guys sell cigars - though not Cuban, due to the US’s ongoing trade embargo with Cuba. I’ve never enjoyed smoking cigars, but have always found the smell of the strangely comforting. I order a Mojito , fairly quickly followed by another Mojito. They’re very moreish. A band strikes up, and the tiny dance floor is quickly filled with some very enthusiastic folks throwing groovy shapes.
I meet Dré at Café La Trova, a fab Cuban restaurant in the heart of Little Havana. Over a couple more Mojitos, we catch up, and enjoy some ceviché, salt cod fritters and Cuban style beef sandwiches. Banging. After a quick amble in the cooling evening, we end up back at Guantanamera for more Mojitos. There’s live music, some interesting outfits, cigar smoking, some kind of DJ - it’s all really rather fun. I stop counting the Mojitos at 6, or was it 7?Read more
United StatesFloridaPinellas CountySt. PetersburgHarbordale Park27°46’9” N 82°39’48” W
May 10 in the United States ⋅ 🌙 27 °C
22:30
I wake up after a good sleep, but with a strange, empty feeling. This morning is the memorial service for Micky. Em’s organised a livestream from the cathedral, and whilst I’m glad to be able to join the service, I’m feeling incredibly lonely, and distant. The service is at 10:00 local time. It’s a beautiful send off for a wonderful, wonderful man. The music is stirring, the singing rousing, the dedications heartfelt and heart-breaking. I treat myself to a glass of wine to accompany the service, and spend most of the 90 minutes in tears. I’m glad to have been a part of it - even from 4,000 miles away, but fuck - that was tough.
I’m not entirely in the mood for fun and frolics, but if anyone can lift me from this darkness, it’s Andy. We set off for St Petersburg, a 90 minute drive over to the West Coast. It’s a bit of an enclave in Florida - lots of art, cool places to eat, microbreweries, and a vibrant LGBTQ+ community. We start with a well deserved beer at 3 Daughters brewing, with a couple of great tacos to line the stomach. We then march (womble is probably closer to it) around the neighbourhood, taking in some of the great mural work that’s part of an annual street art festival. Some of it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s properly hot today - 37c, and so we must make regular pitstops to keep ourselves hydrated / topped up with beer.
Around 16:00, we head into downtown St Pete’s, and take a walk around the central neighbourhoods. The streets are busy with Friday afternoon revelry. Bars with seating spilling out onto the streets, restaurants that put out a brilliant smell as we walk past them. It’s still banging hot though, so we seek refuge in a ‘pour it yourself’ beer hall. They have c. 40 beers on tap. You don a wristband, which you wave at the beer pump you want, then pour as much as you want. It’s a great concept - similar to a wine place I tried in London a few years back. The beers we try are all excellent, and it’s a really fun way to try beers that you otherwise might avoid.
It’s 18:20, and we should probably head back to Auburndale. We navigate (Andy navigates) the Friday night rush hour traffic on the interstate. It’s reassuring to see that there are just as many (if not more) dickheads in Friday rush hour on US roads than the UK. Back in Auburndale, we head to a brewpub called the Crave and Copper for some food. It’s excellent - sort of high end pub grub / junk food. Brilliant loaded tater tots, some awesome chicken wings, a smoked fish dip that is better than it deserves to be. The only slight let down is Andy’s shrimp and grits, which doesn’t hold a candle to the versions I’ve tried on this trip so far.
I call it a night around 21:45. It’s been a long, and heavily emotional day, and I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep…Read more
United StatesFloridaPolk CountyAuburndaleLake Hart28°5’17” N 81°47’25” W
May 9 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
16:30
I have a decent sleep, and wake up feeling fairly refreshed. I don’t have much of a plan today. Will just see where the day takes me. I set off in the general direction of Florida - South by South-East, and arrive into Nashville about a half hour later. It’s a very different Nashville. I have breakfast in an all but empty diner, and another waitress tells me how much she loves my accent. When I walk back to my car, it’s surrounded by police. Well - that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Two police officers and a Sheriff are stood by it, one of whom looks a little like he’s writing me a ticket. I wish them a good morning, and go to get in my car. One of them says, “Hey buddy - you ain’t from round here, huh?” I confirm that I’m not, get in the car, and high-tail it outta town.
I continue in the general direction of Florida. I’m conscious that roads down which I’m travelling are of the long and straight variety. It’s a little soporific. I chuck on the lane assist setting, and fire up the cruise control, and take the opportunity to look around me. The scenery is changing. Gone are the lush pastures of Kentucky and Tennessee. Southern Georgia (and then Northern Florida, when I get there) are drier and more arid.
I arrive into Gainesville, a mid-sized Floridian city around 11:30, and pause to stretch my legs. The sun’s really starting to heat up - around 32C by midday. After a modest mooch, I get back on the road. I’ve got at least another 3 hours down to Auburndale. As I’m pulling into Inverness (!) I realise I’m pretty peckish, so check GoogleMaps for decent lunch spots nearby - finding a lakeside pub. It’s hot, but pleasantly so, and so I sit in the garden. I can’t help but think back to our recent time in Thailand, and the discomfort we’d have experienced if trying to do the same. Jennifer tells me today’s specials, which include a shrimp and sausage gumbo, which sounds perfect. She asks if I want a cup or a bowl. Bowl please. What emerges is what you and I would call a cauldron. It’s vast. The Brit in me won’t let me lave any though, so I plough my way through it. Slowly. It leaves me feeling like a nap, but onwards I must go…
The afternoon consists of more long, straight roads, which aren’t particularly memorable. I arrive into Auburndale just after 16:00, and check into my AirBnB for the next couple of nights. The views over the pool to the lake are really something. The combination of a big lunch and boring roads have left their mark though, and I feel like I’ve earnt an urgent nap.
22:30
My nap is super-deluxe. Nearly two hours, but I wake up feeling refreshed. I’m meeting our good friend Andy later. He’s been in the US for the past 6-7 years, so we see much less of him than we’d like. Hanging out this evening and tomorrow is real treat.
We head to what Andy describes as ‘A typical Polk County bar,’ and I don’t think he’s being kind. We sit outside on the deck, catching up over a couple of beers, and some Gator bites (think fried chicken, but…) which are delicious. As the sun sets, we’re getting eaten alive by mossies though, so move inside. We make plans to meet around midday tomorrow, to go somewhere called ‘St Pete’ - about which I have no idea, but Andy seems excited, so I am too.Read more
United StatesGeorgiaTift CountyTifton31°27’29” N 83°30’55” W
May 8 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
06:00
Wow. Guess I needed the sleep. I wake up a few times during the night, but essentially sleep through till 05:30, and a total of 10.5 hours of sleep. I feel massively refreshed as a result. SOLID.
There’s another supposedly stellar BBQ place near the place I’m staying in Georgia. Let’s hope I can stay awake for this one.
I’m only 30 miles from Atlanta here in Gadsden, but I’m headed towards the Talladega Forest this morning, before heading South East into Georgia, via Columbus. It’s all back roads, and small towns. Looking forward to it.
20:00
I’ve had a great, if slightly confusing day on the road today. From Gadsden, I head to a town called Oxford, about 30 miles South. It’s exactly the picture postcard expectation of small town southern USA. I grab some breakfast, then set-off into the countryside, aiming for the Talladega Scenic Highway, in Cheaha State Park. The views across the southern end of the Appalachian Mountain chain are really quite something. It’s a lovely drive through the forest, and I do get a little lost, when I miss a tiny turn-off.
I set off on a fast cruise towards Columbus, a mid-sized town that’s just over the border into Georgia - and on Eastern time. I stop in at a very cool little bar/bistro called The Black Cow. They claim to have the best burger in the South, and I can’t disagree. It’s banging. I have a lovely chat with Felicia who’s working behind the bar. She asks me what I think of America and Americans. I sense a trap. I give a slightly circumspect response about there being great places and not so great places, great people and not so great people, and also mention that I think the election in November is pivotal for the country. “Fuck Trump” is what I get back in response - which I wasn’t entirely expecting.
After lunch, I aim for something I’ve read about - the Drive Thru Museum. It’s back in Alabama though, so on Central Time. I don’t know how folks living right on the timezone border cope with the constant changes. I’d be late for work every day - if I actually worked. I’m entirely unclear whether where I’m aiming for is a museum about the drive thru, or a museum through which one drives. It turns out to be the latter. It’s absolutely crackers. There are 5-6 shipping containers, painted red, and filled with the weirdest collection of displays I could have imagined. I’m not sure it’s really a museum, as much a collection of utterly bizarre, but quite cool tat. It’s a wonderful slice of strange.
I’ve a 2.5 hour / 140 mile cruise through the Alabama and Georgia countryside to reach Tifton, my overnight stop. I’ve had a request to write some words for Micky’s eulogy. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I spend a good chunk of this drive reminiscing about how we met, the time we spent together, and how much I miss him. My playlist for the drive is a nod towards him as well, featuring many of the artists he introduced me to over the years. When I stop for gas, I get a bit of a look from the cashier. It’s only when I get back in the car that I realise my eyes are a deep red, and my cheeks are tear stained.
Having missed out on my BBQ last night, I make sure I get out in Tifton to a little BBQ spot called Pit-stop. I have a combo plate of some sensational ribs, and some very good (but not the best I’ve ever had) brisket, along with an unsweetened ice tea. A fair few restaurants in the South don’t have a liquor licence - though I’m unsure whether this is by design or default. I’m a convert to good iced-tea, though I hope the caffeine doesn’t bite me later. From tomorrow night, I have actual evening plans for the next few days, so it would be great if I was actually able to stay awake past 21:00. I’m *hoping* a little touch of caffeine will help me stay awake till a more reasonable bedtime, without robbing me of the ability to sleep. It’s 20:00, and I’m not narcoleptic yet. Fingers crossed, touch wood etc etc…Read more
United StatesAlabamaEtowah CountyClubview HeightsBig Wills Creek33°58’58” N 86°0’15” W May 8 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C
16:30
There’s a hell of a thunderstorm overnight. It wakes me at 02:30. It’s cool to watch and listen to for a while, but I’m more than a little pissed off when I can’t get back to sleep. I spend a couple of hours trying, but nah - not happening. This is slightly disheartening. I get up at 05:30, piss around for a while, then get showered and packed up. I’m a little concerned I’ll feel properly knackered on the road later, so the earlier I can get to Gadsden, the better.
I swing by the world-famous Bluebird Café, a real institution of the Nashville music scene. I promise myself I’ll come back here with Vicks and make it to a gig. I then head pretty much due East. In the space of 45 minutes, I pass through Lebanon, Carthage, and Sparta. Later in the day, I spot Antioch. Some serious Middle Eastern / mythological shit going on around here. I stop in Cookesville for an early breakfast, at yet another slightly strange backwater diner. My breakfast is a little more traditional than yesterday’s, MUCH lighter, and very tasty. On the way out of Cookesville, I drive past a pink elephant - as you do.
I’m off the highway today, and heading to the far South East corner of Tennessee, and the city of Chattanooga. The drive is spectacular - such wonderful scenery. Anyone that tells you the UK has the lushest, greenest countryside in the world, is high. There are plush pastures here, rolling forests, farmland interspersed with beautiful waterways - it’s such a treat to womble through.
I get more than a little confused as I arrive into Chattanooga, as I appear to have lost an hour somewhere. It’s only when I stop that I discover that Tennessee actually spans two timezones. I discover that there are 13 states that span two timezones, including Florida, where I’m ultimately headed. I shall be on my guard. As a result of this timewarp, it’s time for lunch. I stop into Puckett’s, a bit of a Chattanooga landmark, and have my second shrimp and grits of my trip. It’s amazing. I really need to figure out how to recreate this dish at home - I suspect using polenta. After lunch, I have a little wander around the town centre, which has that folksy, small-town feel to it.
Back on the road, I’m heading through more countryside into Alabama. I’m slightly surprised when I quickly go past a sign welcoming me to Georgia, but go with it. It’s about 100 miles down to Gadsden, and takes around 2 hours. It’s yet more of a delicious backdrop to drive past. I marvel at some of the tin-can construction of the houses alongside the road. From the little I see of it, Georgia’s pretty as a picture.
At one point, I drive over some roadkill, which on closer inspection transpires to be a skunk. A strong smell fills the car. It’s not pleasant.
Pulling into Gadsden, it’s little more than a strip mall either side of the highway. There is, however, a BBQ place across the road from my diner, that’s supposed to be brilliant. I’m at a Red Roof Inn, a budget motel chain that’s found across the country. I’ve done pretty well with my accommodation options thus far, but my luck may have run out here. The room is a touch grubby, and has a slightly strange smell to it - a little musty. I mention this to the person at the front desk, who says all the rooms smell like that. (“Cain’t hep ya Sir, aw the rooms smell like thayat.”) I leave the door open to air the room out a little, and have a quick bifta, in the hope that it might rob me of my olfactory senses. Hold tight for feedback…
22:00
FFS. Put my head down for a hour’s nap at 18:30, and wake up at 21:30, having slept through my alarm. The BBQ place is shut, and I’m not sure I can be arsed to head out for anything. I read for a little while, but I can still feel my head is tired, so head back to bed in the hope that I’ll sleep until a reasonable hour.Read more
United StatesTennesseeDavidson CountyBuena Vista36°10’22” N 86°48’23” W
May 6 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
15:45
Tough going on the road today. But first things, first. Can you guess what time I woke up? Can you? Correct - 05:00, on the button. Today’s my longest journey of the trip - topping out at just over 350 miles. It’s not raining though, which is a blessing. I’m on the road by 07:15, heading for a diner in the middle of nowhere which is broadly on my way to my first main stop of the day. As I join the main road headed South West, the heavens open - just utterly torrential rain. I can barely see 15m in front of the car, no matter how fast my wind-screen wipers are going, or how carefully I look for the lights of other cars. I briefly consider stopping until the worst of it passes, and then suddenly it does. Bright sunshine, with just a bit of spray from the road. I sigh. If this is anything to go by, it’s fixing to be a long day.
The diner is all kinds of awesome. It’s only a couple of miles drive away from the highway down which I’m driving, but feels like it’s in another century. I understand one word in about seven that the waitress utters. The diner is the size of a barn, but I’m the only customer. They’ve only been open for 10 minutes, so I hope they have a rush of customers a little later. I order a breakfast bowl, which transpires to be a biscuit (savoury scone) topped with scrambled egg, country sausage (think the patty from a Maccy D’s breakfast sausage muffin, but broken up into pieces), gravy (not gravy at all), and cheese. It’s actually pretty good, but a bit of a melange. When ordering, it took the waitress and I quite a while to figure out she was asking if I wanted potatoes, because I wasn’t quite understanding ‘taders.’ Still, it’s cheap, nourishing and tasty enough.
The next 2 hours of my drive are wonderful. I’m deep into Kentucky now, and set off on a meandering drive through farming country. I go almost 40 minutes without seeing another vehicle on the road. The farms are a mixture of dairy properties, and horse farms - this being just about the horsiest part of the US. There are a few light showers, but the rain largely keeps away.
After a shade over 2 hours, and just after 11, I arrive at the Buffalo Trace distillery. I’ve had their Bourbon before, but they have a range of other spirits to try. There’s a really good vodka, which tastes unlike any other I’ve tried before (good way, not bad way). There’s a 12 year old Bourbon which is sensational - prominent flavours of caramel, vanilla. There’s a rye whisky which is a pokey, fiery mouthful, but with smooth and smoke in equal parts.
I move on to my next pit-stop, which just happens to be another whisky distillery. This one’s on a much smaller scale with just a couple of copper stills. They offer me 5 whiskies to taste. I point out that I’m driving so need small measures. No problem, I’m told - they’ll pour light for me. I don’t know if they instantly forget this, or whether the ‘usual’ tasting pour is just monstrous, but I barely drink a quarter of what they pour me. It’s a crying shame, as the whiskies are fabulous. I have a lovely conversation with one of the folks that works at the distillery. We compare experiences of drinking whisky in the Highlands, she tells me that Kentucky is close to Scotland in terms of scenery (true) and climate (bullshit, but I don’t say so…) which is why a great many Scots and Irish people settled in Kentucky when they emigrated from Europe. I’d love to buy a bottle for the rest of my journey, but:
1) there’s no way I’d ever get through it all in the next 10 days, and
2) it’s pretty pricey stuff at $150 a bottle.
I’ve done way less than half my driving for today, so decide to get on the highway for a while to cut into the remaining distance. The heavens immediately open - it’s a barrage of water. Now, I’m not suggesting that I normally don’t concentrate when I’m driving, but there’s a sort of super-concentration level required in these sorts of conditions. It’s just knackering to be on edge the whole time. This time, it feels like the rain is setting in for an extended visit. After an hour, I need to take a break. Happily, this coincides with my passing by Kentucky Stonehenge. After being cruelly denied Foamhenge over the weekend, it’s gratifying to see this really rather shoddy tribute to the Salisbury version in all its soggy glory.
The rain lets up. I’ve got 140 miles to go to Nashville. Backroads will take me upwards of 3 hours, but the Interstate promises more like 2. I decide fast and boring today is better than slow and steady. The weather is squally - several torrential downpours, followed by periods of bright sunshine. I miss the State line between Kentucky and Tennessee, presumably during one of the many rain storms. Tennessee is the so-called ‘Volunteer State’ - and I’m a little disappointed to find this is because the state was renowned for its population volunteering for the USA’s 1812 war against the UK, rather than some tradition of selfless philanthropy…
As I arrive into Nashville, the rain buggers off completely, and I’m left with a beautifully warm, sunny afternoon. I stop in at the Grand Ole Opry House, perhaps the most famous of all of Nashville’s live music venues. I looked at whether there was a show on while I’m in town, but decided against it. I’m reliably informed that the downtown bars are where the best (and cheapest) music is most nights. I pull into my hotel at a little past 15:00. It’s really nice to get out of the car, and know that I’m not going to see it for 16 hours…
21:00
I head out from my hotel for a wander. The helpful person behind the reception desk tells me that there are bars galore, just a few minutes walk from us - most of which will have some kind of live music going on this evening. I set off, not with any particular destination in mind, and end up in a thoroughly cool little bar called The Row. They have about 15 different draft options, one of which is a locally brewed cider, that is awesome. Dry but fruity, light but punchy, bizarrely applely (not a real word). There’s a brief moment of confusion, when I realise that I’ve travelled far enough West to move into Central Time, gaining an hour. I stupidly haven’t left my phone on automatic time updates, so where I think it’s 18:00, it’s actually 17:00. I'll be ok tomorrow as Alabama is also on Central Time, but Wednesday could be fun, as I'll be playing jump rope with the time difference throughout the day.
The music is good. The first artist is a young (early 20s?) lady from Texas. She does decent covers of all sorts of genres, as well as a smattering of her own songs. Everything’s going REALLY well until her last song. It’s called, “Will you be my friend,” which sounds innocuous enough. She tells a story about when she first moved to Nashville, and she felt very lonely, that Jesus was her friend, and that if we all try really hard, he can perhaps be our friend too. Look - I know it’s some people’s thing, but it’s just so not mine that it jars a little.
5 ciders deep, I decide that some food is probably in order. I ask the barman what the most typically Nashville dish on the menu would be, and he points me towards a crumbed catfish plate, with okra. It’s better than I think it’s going to be. The okra is…. interesting? Lots of people object to the texture of it, citing it as slimy. No such problem here - it just tastes a little bland. The fish though, is awesome. Super crispy, very moist and flaky, and served with a piquant tartare sauce. YUM.
At least some of the rain has followed me down to Nashville. There’s a powerful rain storm while the music plays. The bar is open on two sides, and I find it really rather enchanting listening to ultra talented musicians while the rain hammers down.
The clock hits 20:00, and I realise that:
1) I’ve been up since before dawn, and
2) I’ve had no afternoon nap today
I’m pretty jaded. I brave the walk back to my hotel, and ready myself for what I hope will be a splendid sleep.Read more
United StatesWest VirginiaCabell CountyCampbell Park38°24’37” N 82°22’41” W May 5 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
15:30
I’m awake (again) at 05:00, with a slightly fuzzy head. I read for an hour, catch up on some other travel plans, and check in with the home contingent. I’ve got a looooong day’s driving ahead of me, but there’s no real point in me getting on the road before 08:00. I’m heading across the entire breadth of West Virginia, the Mountain State. The rain has lingered overnight, and I’m anticipating a day with a lot more low lying cloud and murk.
Karin has recommended a new café to me, in Romney, about an hour’s drive from Winchester. They open at 09:00, so I set off just after 08:00. I’m back on Route 50, which was my constant companion yesterday. The scenery is stunning. I drive through more than a few properly squally rain showers. Happily, the roads are all but empty, so it’s a relaxing drive.
Breakfast at Wild Roots is fab. I have a breakfast burrito that weighs almost as much as I do. It’s delicious. The coffee is strong, and helps resurrect my still fuzzy bonce.
Back on the road, I cruise along at between 70 and 80, and marvel at some of the place names on offer. Nutter Fort, Big Otter and St Albans are among my favourites. The weather’s starting to break a little, and there are some decent sunny spells along the journey. It’s a good 2 hours to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. On arrival, it’s a spectacular building, and still has the iron bars across the windows. It was originally designed to house 250 ‘inmates’ when it was built in the late 19th century, but peaked in the 1950s at a population of over 2,000. It was transformed into a museum back in 2004, and many of the rooms/cells are still in their original condition. It’s pretty horrifying. The tour guide tells me about the lobotomy experiments that were regularly conducted on patients that might have reported with something as straightforward as epilepsy. *Shudder*
It’s a 2 hour straight shot down the road to Huntington, my overnight stop. I picked Huntington because:
a) it’s approximately halfway between Berryville and Nashville, and
b) there’s a really cool sounding hot dog place that I wanna try.
The roads are getting much busier, but traffic’s still moving freely. I find myself pulling into Huntington in what feels like no time at all. My motel is basic, but clean and comfortable. Oooh, afternoon nap sounds fun.
21:30
I open the door to leave my room, and am met by a wall of rain. It’s absolutely pooning it down. My car’s only parked a few metres from cover, but I’m still beyond soggy when I get into it. It’s a 10 mile drive into the middle of absolutely nowhere to get to Hill Billy Hot Dogs, and the rain eases and then stops en-route. HBHD is a very cool, intentionally esoteric kinda place. The counter clerk apparently loves my accent. I Grant it up a bit (Hugh, not Mitchell), and she coos.
They offer an eating challenge hot dog called a Homewrecker. It’s close to 2 feet long (60cm for the civilised folks out there), and if eaten in less than 10 minutes, is free. Apparently the vast majority fail. I’m a little more circumspect with my order - a Hillbilly Dog, and some mac and cheese bites. The dog is excellent - properly smoked beef wiener (snigger), a quite poky chilli, mustard and raw onion. This is all washed down by a local IPA called Devil’s Anse - which I mistakenly hear as Devil’s Arse.
On my way back to my motel, the skies are brooding again. It’s warm and humid. I stop in at Walmart for some supplies. It’s comfortably the biggest supermarket I’ve ever seen - bigger than the cavernous hypermarchés I remember from trips to France as a kid.
Back in my room, I settle in for a Sunday night movie, Leon - which I haven’t seen for many years. It’s still a fabulous film, and I manage to keep my eyes open throughout. I make it to 21:30, and reckon that’s enough for today…Read more
United StatesVirginiaClarke CountyAshby Gap39°0’47” N 77°57’39” W
May 4 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C
14:00
I wake up:
1) earlier than I’d have liked, and
2) cold. Not a bit chilly. Actually cold.
Looking outside, I quickly understand the temperature. There has been much rain overnight, and the pavements (sidewalks) are slick with water. I went to bed with clear skies, and the temperature hovering around 21C. It’s now overcast, rainy, and 13C. Brrrrr.
The waking up bit is hardly unexpected. I was asleep before 10:00, and am wide awake at 05:00. Solid sleep, but am gonna be bored for a while before the world wakes up.
My plan today is not to have a plan. I need to get over to Winchester by 14:00-15:00 to get checked in, before meeting Clay and Kris for drinks/food etc etc. It’s an hour drive, so I’ve got lots of time to play with.
Walking out into the parking lot, it’s pooning it down, really quite unpleasantly. My initial thought had been to head to a couple of Civil War battlefields nearby, but outside can go fuck itself. There are some cool sounding wine, beer and cider stops further over towards Winchester, but none are open until 11:00 or 12:00. As a result, I decide to drive 40 minutes North, over the border with Maryland, to a cannabis dispensary. Most of the states I’m driving through are still cannabis deniers, so this will be my last chance to grab some smoke for the next couple of weeks.
The weed dispensary is a very interesting experience. It started out as a medical marijuana dispenser, but with the changes in recreational use laws in Maryland in 2019, now sells to adult recreational users as well. I’m not 100% convinced my UK passport will be accepted as proof of ID until it is. There’s a tablet on the wall to make my choices, before queuing to pick my order up at the dispensary. It’s kind of like going to an Argos. After Vicks and my foray with pre-rolleds, I want to try weed vapes. I’d rather not chuck tobacco into my lungs if I can avoid it. There’s a broad range of options, so I plump for a Sativa strain for the day, that will allegedly leave me energised, creative and bouncy, as well as an Indica strain that promises me relaxed, sleepy and blissed out. Well, I’ll be the judge of that.
Back on the road, I head in the approximate direction of Winchester, via a very pretty town called Middleburg. On the way into town, I stop at Cana Estates winery for a quick tasting. They give me 3 wines, 2 of which are brilliant. The third is well…. The first two are brilliant!
As I leave the town (village), there’s a cider barn. Of course I stop. They brew their own ciders on-site, and I grab a tasting flight of 4 ciders. One is great, one is good, one is ok, and one is actively unpleasant. I figure this is about fair.
From Middleburg, I head out along Route 50. It’s a lovely scenic drive. More of those sweeping curves and undulating roads. At one point, I start driving up a slight incline which ultimately continues for a few miles. Suddenly, I'm in the very low lying cloud, the view of which is really pretty special. I half expect to see a gorilla emerging from the mist. I stop briefly to try and photograph this eerily quiet perspective.
Back on the road, I drive past a sign for a brewery called Twisted Oak. Yes, of course I do. I have a flight of 4 of their beers. I luck out this time, as all are great. Amazingly, the Stout is brewed with coffee tequila, though I’m not sure if it’s the hallowed Café Patron Vicks and I encountered in Thailand. I ask the guy behind the counter, but he looks at me with suspicion. It gives a smoky and slightly salty flavour to the beer - delicious. There are a couple of IPAs, one of which is hazy in the New England style, and which I could drink by the bucketload. Finally, there’s an Amber ale, sharing a lot of DNA with British bitter. It’s called Arlo’s Amber, after the Jack Russell, Arlo, who is the hound of the property. He seems to sense that I am not a dog person, by coming to sit with me. He nuzzles, he lies down. At one point, he rolls over and shows me his belly (and balls). I give him some strokes, but I think he suspects my heart is not in it.
It’s only another 15 mins up the road to Winchester. Happily, my room is available to check-in when I arrive…
22:15
Had a great evening catching up with Clay, and meeting Kris for the first time. Clay and I worked together at SHL for the best part of 10 years, until he was made redundant when the new private equity owners decided to offshore the vast majority of digital and product roles to India. It’s worked out really well for him, as he secured a huge pay rise, and now works in a place not widely populated by idiots. I’ve not met Kris before, but it’s lovely finally to put a face to the name. She’s had awful problems with her spine for the past 10 or so years, and has just recently had (yet) another surgery, this time at the world famous Johns Hopkins hospital in Baltimore. It seems to have helped, but she’s still pretty early on in her recovery. Their place is in Berryville, a small town 10 or so miles from my hotel in Winchester. Their detached, 3 bedroom house on a plot of around an acre set them back about £250k. Outside of the bigger towns and cities in the US, there is amazing value to be had in property. I also get to meet Harvey, their bulldog, about whom I have also heard much. He’s a lovely, chunky and solid fella.
We head up to a brewery called Bear Chase, up at the top of the mountain. I’m told the views are typically breathtaking, but today the mountaintop is shrouded in low-lying cloud. Visibility is about 10 metres, tops. It’s very cool, albeit in a slightly different way than planned. We have a few beers, and a pretty decent band strikes up. We’re all getting peckish, so C+K take me to a local restaurant called Suecats, which is run by a friend, . Clay and Kris demand that we try the fried green tomatoes, as they’re new to me, and I then have an amazing bowl of shrimp and grits (similar to polenta). The dish is hugely tasty. When chef comes to say hi, I ask how he’s elevated the humble grit to such high heights. His response? “A ton of butter, a ton of cream, and a ton of cheese.” Righto.
My early start is beginning to catch up with me. I order an Uber, which takes a long while before a driver accepts. We’re properly out in the sticks, and having accepted the ride request, it’s fully 25 minutes until I’m picked up. Being somewhat refreshed, I attempt to engage my driver in conversation. This does not go well. After 4 single syllable responses to my 4 questions, I admit defeat. I’m back at my hotel by 22:00, and face down fully asleep only moments later.Read more
United StatesVirginiaPage CountyKimballKemp Hollow38°40’31” N 78°20’4” W
May 3 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C
16:00
I sleep fairly well. I wake up at 01:40 feeling wide awake, despite only having been asleep for a couple of hours. I wake up at 03:50, and am convinced it’s time to spring out of bed. There’s enough residual tiredness though, that each time I manage to get back to sleep. I wake for the final time at 06:00. I have a brief try, but no - it’s not happening. I’ve done ok though.
My travelling body clock is used to Asia, and it feels a little strange waking up to find the day is half done in the UK. There’s a decent sounding diner nearby that I’ll head to for breakfast, but it’s not open till 08:00. I pass the time looking for stuff to do today. I’ve visited Virginia countless times for work, but my experience has been restricted to the North East corner, up near Washington DC. Today, I’m going to head out to see a bit more of what Old Dominion has to offer…
The decent sounding diner turns out to be even better than advertised. Twelve bucks buys me sunny-side eggs, hash browns and corned beef hash. It’s a hefty plateful, and should set me up for the day. I’m planning to be on a two meal per day strategy while I’m here, otherwise I suspect I’ll come home the size of a housing estate.
After breakfast, I head South West, along Highway 66. This is NOT Route 66. Apparently there’s an Interstate 66 as well - just to add to my confusion. I don’t love highway driving, so when the opportunity to head off on a smaller, back road presents itself, I grab it. The following hour is a delight of sweeping curves, swooping hills, and increasingly bizarre place names. I love this side of road-tripping. I drive past several vineyards, which surprises me a little. I obviously know there’s more to US wine than California, but wasn’t aware that there’s a burgeoning wine industry in Virginia. I’ll take a look on my way back. For now though, I’m headed to Shenandoah National Park, and specifically to the Skyline Drive, a 105 mile road through the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The drive is beautiful. The views over the Shenandoah Valley are mesmerising. I stop at a few overlooks, and have a wander through nature. The park is close to deserted, and it’s a wonderful moment of solitude. I’m also loving my little car - my constant companion for the next 2 weeks. Just this morning it’s done busy town driving, highway cruising, and country back roads, and dealt with all of them really well, and been fun to throw around. They do an EV version, which I’ll take a look at as our next car, when we replace ours later this year.
Leaving the North end of Skyline Drive, it’s turning midday, and I’ve been awake for hours. Google Maps directs me to a lovely little bar-cum-BBQ pit a couple of miles away. I’m not remotely hungry, but the smells coming from the smoker are objectively amazing. While I’m nursing my beer, an order of a brisket sandwich comes out of the kitchen. I briefly consider ordering one to go, but decide against it. From here, I set the sat-nav for Foamhenge - which is exactly what it sounds like. I ask Google Maps to avoid highways and toll roads, and end up spending a joyous hour discovering more of the backwaters of Virginia. I stop at a couple of vineyards along the way - with mixed success. The wines at Three Foxes are adequate, the wines at Greenhill really pretty good. I’m very well behaved though, and do much more spitting than swallowing.
I arrive at Cox’s Farm only to find Foamhenge DENIED. Apparently, it’s only open in Summer, which doesn’t officially start until Memorial Day, at the end of May. Curses.
It’s a quick 20 minute scoot back to Herndon. I grab some road supplies from Safeway, and head back to my motel. I’m seriously considering an afternoon nap…
19:45
Ya see, the danger of afternoon naps when travelling West is that your body, not unreasonably, thinks it’s bed time. As a result, waking up after an hour is way more challenging than it should be. My alarm goes off at 18:30, and I could very easily roll over and go straight back to sleep. Being the brave little soldier that I am, I manage to drag my ass out of bed. Takes a good 10 minutes before I can open my eyes properly though.
I head out for a walk, in the hope that some exercise will blow away the cobwebs. My motel’s in a pretty bland part of town. Strip malls, supermarkets, chain hotels. I do find a sports bar, so pull up a stool. They’ve got a good selection of local beers, one of which I try. It’s decent. There are something like six TV screens, running from one end of the bar to the other, and each showing a different game or event. There’s Major League baseball, college baseball, college lacrosse, NHL ice hockey, a re-run of some Formula 1 that was on earlier, and a talk show about NFL football. I love these sports bars. They’re an ingrained part of local US culture. Guaranteed if you walk into one alone, you’ll be part of a conversation ten minutes later. So much so, that…. Oooh, Tuaca!
21:30
I spend a very enjoyable hour talking to Albie, he who ordered the Tuaca. Si, the bar manager, explains that he had a bottle of it delivered accidentally a few years back. The distributor said to keep it, rather than go to the hassle of sending it back, and Albie, who’s one of Si's most regular customers, developed quite the penchant for it. As a result, he now goes through a couple of bottles a month at the bar. I explain the resonance of Tuaca and Brighton, and Si ends up pouring me a free shot of it, which is more than kind.
Dinner is a very good Reuben - such a good combination of flavours. 3 beers and a couple of Tuacas in, and I’m fading. I reckon a Zopiclone tonight to try and bank a good 8 hours, and a reasonable wake up time...Read more
United StatesVirginiaFairfax CountyHerndonSunset Business Park38°57’17” N 77°22’31” W
May 2 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C
12:00
I’ve done a few swift turnarounds over the years - but I think only for work trips. This is comfortably the shortest home pit-stop I can remember that’s purely for fun purposes. Just enough time to refresh my underwear selection, spend some time with the boys, and plan out my next trip. Solo sojourn this time, so I’m back to sticking to a tight(er) budget - something that’s particularly tough to do in the US at the moment. It’s a road-trip, and I managed to snag a really good car hire deal. There’s some risk attached though. It’s one of these ‘mystery car’ deals - no idea what you’re driving till you turn up to collect it. At best, it’ll be a big and comfy SUV or sedan. At worst, well - let’s try and stay positive.
I’ve got accommodation booked for my first few nights in Virginia / West Virginia, and then have a rough route planned, which’ll take me down through Kentucky and Tennessee and into Alabama, then across Georgia and down into Florida, where I’m excited to catch up with some very dear friends. I’m conscious I’m heading through the deep South, and what is largely staunch Republican territory. With any luck, I might get to attend a Trump rally while I’m there.
In line with my budget conscious approach, I write this from a National Express coach. A return ticket has set me back £30, where the train would have been £80, and a cab in each direction several hundred. There’s a distinct hint of murk to the weather. Checking the weather report for the Washington DC area, it looks like I’ll be landing into a balmy evening of temperatures in the mid 20s, and heat index that’s actually the same. After our recent heat-based experiences in Thailand, this is better than good news.
14:30
There are several stops between Brighton and Heathrow. At each, the driver leaps down to help passengers load/unload their luggage. Every time he gets back on the coach, there’s an irrepressible honk of cat piss. Not ‘a smell that’s a bit like cat piss.’ Actual cat piss.
Other than that, the journey to Heathrow is a piece of, well - piss. Deffo one to use in future for those all too rare occasions when time’s not of the essence. From bus to bar takes a little over 30 minutes, which for Terminal 3 is lightning speed. And, result! I’ve got a free upgrade. I recently got my Virgin Silver status back, and it seems this is my reward. It’s to Premium Economy, which given I’m going to try and sleep for as much of the flight as possible, is a treat. I’ve got to be sensible on the booze front - I’m picking up my car at Dulles Airport on arrival, so best not to be three sheets when I do… That’s all 10 hours from now though, so I celebrate the start of a new adventure with one of my favourite ciders (Orchard Pig’s Reveller) in one of my favourite airport bars (T3’s The Curator).
23:30
Body clock is all over the shop. Flight is a little delayed taking off, but we’re Westward bound by 18:00. Shouldn’t change our arrival time. My upgrade has actually put me in a bulkhead seat, so I’ve got a ton of leg room. I have a glass of bubbles on boarding, and a G+T soon after take-off. I um and ah about a wine with my meal, and come down firmly on the side of ah. I start to watch Oppenheimer, having not quite got around to it yet. My eyes are heavy though, and I can feel a nap coming on. I sleep for around 3 hours, and wake up feeling a lot more refreshed. We’re only 90 minutes out from DC as well = RESULT.
There’s an elderly lady sat next to me. Well, not quite next to me. There are 3 parallel seats in the bulkhead. We each have the aisle seats, and there’s an empty seat between us. She’s feeling the cold, bless her - and is wrapped up in about 3 blankets. A member of the cabin crew does the rounds offering duty free shopping. I tend to think this is a bit of a thing of the past, as online shopping has largely equalised the discounts available on-board. I sometimes grab a bottle of Bourbon at the airport if I’m heading somewhere where room drinks might be tricky to come by. Anyways, I’ve got my noise cancelling cans on, so can’t hear my colleague’s discussion with the flight attendant. It goes on for some time. Eventually, a bottle of perfume turns up, along with a bottle of tequila, and it’s the tequila that surprises me a little. I’d perhaps expected gin, or maybe a liqueur of some description. At an opportune moment, I ask Margaret (for that is her name) whether it’s a gift for someone she’s visiting. Oh no, she replies - it’s for me. I love me a bit of the old Tequila. And I now can’t get an image of her doing tequila shots with lime and salt out of my head.
I use the last hour of the flight to finish watching Oppenheimer, which is a genuinely staggering bit of cinema. It's a period of history I've always found fascinating, but I've only ever had a passing knowledge of the work that was done on the Manhattan Project. Cillian Murphy's and RDJ's performances are both stellar, but the entire cast delivers.
We land at 20:20, pretty much bang on time. I’m a little disheartened on arrival into the immigration hall to see a lengthy queue for ‘visitors’ and only 2 TSA agents checking documents. The queue crawls at a glacial pace for an hour. I don’t feel too tired, even though my body thinks it’s 02:00. I’m just bored. Once the sizeable US Nationals queue has cleared, the TSA team open up those desks for foreigners, and things start to move along a little quicker. By 22:00, I’m looking for my hire car. Thrifty have told me to pick the car up at the Thrifty parking lot, but have given no indication as to where this is. I ask a few people, who send me in various wrong directions. I then nearly get run down by a minibus. It’s only when I turn around to yell at the driver, that I notice the van says ‘Hertz / Dollar / Thrifty.’ Kismet.
At the hire car parking lot, I meet a lovely Brazilian lady who works for Hertz, and we chat for a few minutes about my trip there later this year. She warns me not to go walking in the favela after dark. I mean - thanks Brazilian lady, but I was not really planning to. She also recommends a few towns/cities to visit on the hugely long stretch of Atlantic coastline, and this is great intelligence to have. My car is a Kia Soul - a kinda small SUV type square boxy thing. It’s comfortable enough though.
Leaving Dulles is unnecessarily complex. To be fair, leaving Heathrow when you’re unfamiliar with the local roads, have been travelling for 17 hours and it’s dark, would probably also be challenging. I finally find a road that takes me where I need to go. My home for the next couple of nights is a motel. Simple, basic, clean. The bed looks very inviting… I’m hoping that having made it nearly midnight (or 05:00 in the UK) means that I might crack jet lag more quickly than I historically have done when travelling West. I have horrendous memories of 01:00/02:00 wake ups in Minneapolis years ago, but I wasn’t half the sleeper then, that I am now.
WISH ME LUCK.Read more
