Thunderbirds are go!
Trip Start
Nov 03, 2004
1
58
165
Trip End
Nov 23, 2006
Vandenburg AFB,
California,
United States
Thursday, September 22, 2005
is Macys, we detoured across the Golden Gate Bridge (because how
could you not?) and headed for Yosemite. The drive was simple - we
had an atlas and America has a road system rather than just some
roads. From San Francisco the scenery was rolling sand dune like
hills liberally sprinkled with wind farms like beautiful, surreal,
kinetic art installations.
A tent cabin at the Yosemite Bug Hostel saw us sorted for the next
couple of days (strangely, and unknown to us, The Bug is owned by
someone we met, and liked, on the Manu Biosphere cruise in Peru)
1 Yosemite - its not a bad life
.Yosemite is spectacular, but a little strange for New Zealanders -
it's a celebration of pine trees. Of course, they have rushing
rivers and immense granite rockfaces, ethereal waterfalls and
wildlife so relaxed it brings its young down to the walking paths to
feed as well. You can drive everywhere in the park (and probably
have to hike ten or fifteen miles to escape the traffic noise) - so
it's less like being in a national park than driving down Highway 1.
We spent a happy first day scrambling over river boulders by icy
rivers and climbing the rocks under Bridal Veil fall (so high that
only wind blown spray ever reaches the pool below). We developed
cricks in our necks watching climbers, gnat-sized, assault the 1500m
vertical face of El Capitan - the highest granite rock face in the
Western Hemisphere
2 Yosemite - not a bad view either
. Some of the ledges are so wide they can pitchtents up there, and the climb is so long they need to. We clambered
into the forest to escape the bus tour hordes and their constant
babble and to listen to the wind make the roar of crashing waves out
of rustling pine needles. We watched entranced as a coyote trotted
along the road and then, were astonished by a baby black bear
galumpfing unconcernedly across the road fifteen feet in front
of the car.
Over breakfast the next morning squirrels quarreled with magpies and
ravens quorked happily in the trees. It is Fall here - a perfect
time of year - the mornings crisp but sunny, the days gloriously
warm and golden, the leaves turning and the mist coming down
(prettily but not damp) in the evenings
3 Bodie - rusting into oblivion
. We visited the giantsequoia groves today - driving the length of the park (and back
again) to visit with 2,500 year old redwoods - the air heavy with
the scent of drying needles, resin and green, the sound of squirrels
and woodpeckers and ancient trees growing. Oh, and hundreds of
tourists, half of whom eschew the 0.9 mile wander through the forest
to the sequoia groves in favour of riding on a huge articulated-
truck-and-trailer "tram"; welcome to America. After all the
buildup (largest living thing on the planet, drive a car through one
(although that one's fallen over there is one you can walk through),
blah, blah, blah) the trees themselves are surprisingly ordinary;
just like really big pine trees. Though they're probably as big
around as giant kauri, and much taller, they didn't inspire in
either of us the same sense of ancient massiveness as the Northland
kauri.
Next stop Bodie State Historic Park on the California/Nevada state
line
4 Reno - Thunderbirds are go
. Bodie grew up after the discovery of gold in 1859. At itspeak it was a byword for "wickedness", hard living, robberies,
street fights, stage holdups and killings - "a sea of sin, lashed by
tempests of lust and passion". Its remains have been preserved in a
state of "arrested decay" - a genuine ghost town in a genuine
desert. It's a veritable Disneyland of sagging buildings, rickety
floors, rusting mining paraphernalia and everyday domestic chaos.
Peering through cracked windowpanes you could see coal ranges,
babies' cribs, ornate cash registers, peeling paper and chipped
enamel cookware. The morgue has tiny coffins and copper washing
vats in three rooms and a double bed in the fourth. Dust devils
swirled, grasshoppers chirped, tortured floor boarding creaked and
groaned
5 Reno - the old and the new
. You could almost hear the squeak of the saloon doors,clinking glasses, raucous laughter and the tinny tinkle of the
player piano.
Crossing the Nevada border you come across the naval operations base
for underwater exploration and rescue (yep, go on, look up Nevada on
a map)!
We overnighted in Carson City - another name from the old west. Our
first self-catered meal in the US was Chinese take-out (Kung-Pao
chicken, because if you've ever watched US TV, you have to - and yes
it comes in the little folding cardboard basket) on disposable
plates with disposable chopsticks and paper cups ... ah, the
consumer society. We had hoped that motels in the US, like the ones
at home, would come with a kitchen(ette, even)
6 Reno - copper Rolls Royce
. But, no, they'rejust hotels with parking. Still this is a nation of spectacular
beds, brilliant plumbing and road signs (for example, directing you
to the Nevada National Guard Armoury, in case you need to drop in)!
We began the next day with an earthquake and passed onto cereal from
disposable bowls sharing our one (not disposable) spoon. Today
we're driving to Reno for the annual air races and spending three
nights with Sally and Eduardo from www.globalfreeloaders.com. The
drive across Nevada was parched, scraggy plains and hills layered
like cassata - mocha, vanilla, hazelnut and strawberry. The plains
were dotted with Joshua trees like avante garde sculpture - twisted
trunks with contorted toilet brush branches.
7 Vegas - nothing succeeds like excess
The Reno Air Races are pilot porn. First there are the races.
Classes range through largely unmodified tail-draggers through ex-
airforce L39 training jets to the anything-goes 'unlimited' class.
Unlimited is the home of the hot-rods: P-51 Mustangs, Bearcats,
Grumman Tigercats, Messerschmidts, Sea Furies, Corsairs, classic
warbirds fitted with cut-down wings and hotted up engines (or
oversized ones ex WWII bombers) - 3000hp in planes which originally
sported 1200.
They race around markers placed in an 8-mile loop around the field.
The first straight they hold their lanes and then everyone bunches
up looking for the shortest line and the advantage. Low flying is
banned, but 'low' is considered under 50 feet. This is real seat-of-
the-pants flying by mostly hobbyist pilots (futures traders, mergers
and acquisitions specialists - adrenaline junkies with the bank
account for expensive toys and expensive accidents). One of the
modifieds had been crashed a week before and rebuilt in time to be
racing ..
8 - Grand Canyon at dusk
. and winning.Then there are the aerobatics. Adrenaline junkies with competition
built bi-planes, low stall, single wing toy planes looping,
twisting, turning, stalling, fluttering, executing perfect four and
eight point rolls, Cuban eights and barrel rolls. The Royal
Canadian Air Force Snowbirds performed aerobatics with a tight,
perfect, disciplined formation of nine. The US Air Force
Thunderbirds roared over from behind the stands straight into a
4000' vertical climb. This is great advertising for the USAF -
gleaming F16s, afterburners flaming, jets screaming, playing with G-
forces (unfortunately one of the six aircraft had to pull out
straight after the opening fly-over for "technical" reasons!).
9 Route 66
They bring along their mighty transports, their extractionhelicopters, their zippy little training jets and a recruiting truck
with serious sound system and flight simulator - they know who the
target market is.
On the day the Mustang's were out-raced but nothing vibrates your
ribcage like a Rolls Royce Merlin roaring past at 450mph fifty feet
off the ground. Forty percent of the Bearcats in the world raced
that day - that's four. The L-39s slide through the air at 500mph.
There was a race between a rocket propelled dragster and one of the
modified aerobatics aircraft. It appeared to be a draw.
Happy, exhausted, sound battered and wind burnt we headed into the
depths of suburban Reno to find Sally and Eduardo's
99 Vandenberg AFB - to infinity and beyond
. They have justreturned from twelve months traveling (South America, Europe, Asia),
Eduardo is Chilean, Sally does regular volunteer work in Bolivia,
they are expert home brewers and into food - we hit it off
immediately and talked well into the night over barbequed tri-tip
(fillet) and boutique beer.
A long time ago William Harrah (of Harrah's Casinos) bought a
classic 1920s car. On his death he had a collection of over 1000.
After the bulk of the collection had been sold off to good homes 220
of the most important, beautiful or iconic were moved to their new
home. The Automobile Museum of Reno is a world class facility
entirely financed by entrances and donations and staffed by
volunteers. Talk about funky curator school - cars are displayed
with period attire for context, in authentic street scenes,
backdropped by relevant monster photos or video footage. Every
vehicle is meticulously and immaculately restored. The collection
includes Elvis' Caddie, Sammy Davis Jr's Excalibur, a model T you
can clamber into, appropriately dressed, for a photo op, a Mercedes
SSK, a copper-bodied Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, classic phaetons, a
steam powered car, elegant and bizarre concept cars. In 1908 the
only round the world automobile race ever held was staged (Paris-New
York). The winning vehicle (as it rolled across the finish line) is
on display. So important was authenticity to Harrah that he tracked
down one of the original race crew to verify (by means of the
repairs made en route) that this was THE vehicle. This place sucked
up over four hours!
It being a beautiful afternoon we strolled the river bank, browsed
the annual fall art fair and lamented not having enough time for the
monthly wine walk. We returned home to visit a local brew house
with Eduardo and Sally for such taste experiences as jalapeno lager
(surprisingly good) and smoked brown ale (like drinking barbeque
sauce). Reno is our kind of town - the perfect weekend - planes,
cars, good coffee, art, beer and fabulously open, hospitable
people. Any time it came up people wanted to talk about our
travels. One woman, making lustrous abstract glass jewelry,
insisted I chose a pair of earrings so that she knew a creation of
hers was traveling around the world having an adventure she wouldn't
have.
Monday saw us heading into Vegas, baby. We stayed with another
globalfreeloaders couple, Andy and Cindy. Andy's job, professional
baseball gambler (which would appear to be fairly lucrative) is a
late night, late morning kind of thing. We only saw them the first
night (we rocked home at 2:00am the second). They are about to pack
up house and embark on a road trip.
Vegas ... what can you really say? Well, for a start, it was
raining! We started with the Liberace Museum. More feathers, fur,
sequins, glass tiling and crystal than should be in one place at one
time - and then there are the pianos, cars and candelabra. We
didn't have time for the Atomic Testing Museum (but there's always
New Mexico).
Next a wander down The Strip - total sensory overload. There are
casinos shaped like a scaled down New York skyline (with integrated
roller coaster), a mini Paris, Sherwood castle (with dragons and
cocktail waitresses in doublet and hose), Venice (with gondolas), a
pyramid (obviously with mummies and Sphinx), the Roman Forum (with
cocktail waitresses in very unfortunate short, short togas). The
neon is blinding, the crowds thick and thickening, the video
advertising and strippers touts distracting. I wasn't allowed in
the Gucci, Fendi, Dior or Baccarat stores of the Caesar's Palace
Plaza. The Bellagio has choreographed fountains performing to the
Titanic theme and the national anthem (!!!) on the half hour. Every
90 minutes Treasure Island sinks, after a gripping, musical sea
battle, a pirate ship. Follies Bergeres is on with, only in
America, the comedy juggling act of Eddie Somebody. ZZ Top and
Santana were playing. So were Penn & Teller, We Will Rock You, Mama
Mia and any number of Elvis impersonators. Caesar's Palace had
Celine Dion and the MGM had a show with "thousands of sequins
covering almost nothing". The Stratospere has a roller coaster
perched on the equivalent of the Sky Tower. Of course, there's also
gambling. Lots of blackjack and roulette tables, poker tables and
zombie-eyed punters playing the slots, flashing lights, dinging
bells, clicking, clacking chips. We blew USD5.00 on the slots, went
on the Manhattan Express roller coaster and saw the Imperial
Palace's Elvis impersonator (with supporting cast of Buddy Holly,
Madonna, The Temptations, Bruce Springstein and Aretha Franklin).
Just the looking took most of the day!
More than a little jaded we headed (early) for Arizona and the Grand
Canyon, via the Hoover Dam (you cross the state line on the middle
of the dam). More cool engineering stuff, cruising in the machine
hall, hanging over the face of the dam, concrete density statistics,
copper conductivity data, water flow and control mechanisms, pushing
the buttons on the light-up photos. Because we're really geek-boys
we're bringing home a piece of the original copper conduction cable -
it's a small piece of history, of a moment of sweeping vision and a
time of depression and desperation, of men, far from home and
family, offered hope and dignity by employment.
Nearing sunset we arrived at the Grand Canyon. We knew it would be
impressive and massive and unexplained. We were impressed into
silence and insignificance. Settled down on a rock table inside the
canyon we watched a sunset of brooding smoke and rose turn the
magnificent Daliesque landscape muted shades of merlot. We watched
turkey buzzards wheeling and soaring on the thermals and felt their
freedom and our joy in this dramatic, serene wonderland. As black
night descended we dined, alone, with Californian Zinfandel, coyotes
and dazzling, diamond-bright stars.
Wild-eyed and demented we drove the following day from Arizona,
across the bottom of Nevada and all of California (just over 1000km)
to be at Vandenburg Air Base for a Minataur rocket launch (payload
one ton). We detoured briefly down Route 66 and rumbled throuugh
dusty, forgotten, barren, mixed nut selection coloured Arizona
with the Harleys and the Gold Wings. We arrived 12 minutes before the
launch window of 18 minutes opened. The launch net was established
under the water-tower off Azalea Lane - doesn't that sound
impressive - actually, we, and the twelve other interested people,
stood in a field of long grass being attacked by ticks and
mosquitoes, looking in the general direction of the base. We
couldn't see the launch tower. At 7:24pm, without warning, a small
gold dot streaked heavenward. The parsimonious part of our brains
went, "Is that it ... 1000km for that?", and then it reached the
cloud base. A golden aureole misted out from the nosecone turning
orange and red as it clawed its way through the atmosphere and into
infinity. And then the roar of thrusters burst over us. Long after
it was on its way the multi-coloured corkscrew of its passage hung
suspended in the night sky drawing your eyes longingly back and back.
So many wonders of the earth and man to feed our senses upon, and a
healthy dose of tacky a well. What more can you ask for?
