Joe's Stories from the Road

for the month of   September  '05

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Romance

Several things are on my mind this morning.  That is what happens when one lets himself get so far behind in writing.  It is not much of an excuse but my computer is giving me fits and I haven't figured out what to do about it yet.  I have talked to David about it and also Cliff.  We will work it out or I will have to do the rest of my narratives by email.

Speaking first of all about my good friend Cliff.  You remember Cliff?  He bicycled the first 1500 miles with me so he could teach me how to use this equipment.  I remember talking to a professor at the University of Kentucky and he doubted that I could learn this technology while riding a bicycle.  He also reminded me that there would be technical difficulties that he wasn't sure we could overcome.  I don't remember his name but I must tell you that it has been a struggle but we have gotten 5,600 miles down the road and we have done a pretty good job of connecting with our readers and our students.  I am amazed myself.  You can teach old dogs new tricks.  And I know I have a lot more to learn. 

Okay.  Back to my good friend Cliff.  I am going to tell you what has happened to him.  Remember that on the very first day of the bicycle trip we stopped in Arroyo Grande, California, and visited some old friends of mine?  They were Bill and Gladys Paulsen.  Well, they had a daughter who lived in Bakersfield.  Her name is Sherry.  Sherry was about 16 years old when I came through on the bicycle in 67.  I was an old man to her even then.  This time, I am still an old man but out of respect to her mom and dad she drove over from Bakersfield to say "hello" to me when I bicycled through the second time. 

After we bicycled out of Arroyo Grande, Cliff mentioned Sherry several times.  After about a week he called Sherry's father who is 79 years old and asked for Sherry's phone number.  Well, for the next four to five weeks I heard Cliff talking to Sherry on the cell phone every night.  In fact, if I had a question about how to do something on the computer I had to wait until he had time to tell me because he was on the phone with Sherry.

In Lacy, Washington, Cliff awoke before me and was on the phone when I woke up.  He informed me that I had learned the technology and I would do a great job without him.  I asked what he meant.  He said, "I know I was planning on staying with you another week but I have got to go Bakersfield."  I laughed and congratulated him.  We went to a restaurant named Shari's.  If you will look back through the beginning of the narratives you will see a photo of Sherry and I in Arroyo Grande.  You will also see the photo of Cliff holding Rocinante with the Shari restaurant sign in the background.  I didn't write anything then because I wasn't sure where this was leading.

Congratulations to Cliff and Sherry.  They are both fantastic folks.  Sherry will soon pick up our dialect and learn how to speak proper Eastern Kentucky English. 

Sept 12

Movies, the Little Engineer, Please Sign the Student’s Guest Book

Things happen during the bicycle trip that are not exactly on the bicycle trip but I must share them with you, anyway.  I have a good old friend in Tennessee who gave me a fantastic adventure just before I started the bicycle trip.  His name is Ralph Conlee.  He is originally from Powell County, Kentucky.

Last summer he called and asked me to take him on an adventure.  His friend, Cameron Crowe, a movie producer, director, and writer, was making a movie in Kentucky named “Elizabethtown.”  Ralph had been invited to go to the set for a couple of days of shooting.  He wanted me to go with him.  Well, I did and it was awesome.  I met Cameron Crowe and Orlando Bloom.  I got to watch Ralph set in the Director's chair and Cameron asked him for advice on shooting a scene.  Cameron is the Director of several very good movies- my favorites being Almost Famous and Jerry McGuire.  He also wrote the scripts.  So this is the news.  The movie ELIZABETHTOWN is going to open all over the country on October 24, 05.  And, there is going to be a special opening and celebration in several cities in Kentucky in September.  I am certain that my good friend Ralph Conlee will be on the front row.  Cameron put Ralph and me in the movie.  I may be lying on the cutting room floor but I am very sure that Ralph will be on the screen.  Have fun, Ralph, and know that I am with you in spirit.  It will be a great day for you and also for Kentucky.  I have read a lot about the movie and I feel that it will get an OSCAR.  

I have been looking at the website and noticing things that I had missed.  I don't get much time to look due to the difficulty of finding a place to plug in.  You see the little engineer with Rocinante at the Cumbres & Toltec Railroad?  Well, I cannot remember the little boy’s name but he is the grandson of Larry Luna, 2013 Durry, Carlsbad, New Mexico 88220.  If one of you have the ability to copy that photo and send it to the grandfather I would appreciate it.  Thank you.  I may get to see the little engineer again when I ride through Carlsbad later in the fall.

Sept 18

Navajo Folks, Grand Canyon, Maverick, Elvis, and a King’s Ransom

I recently received a story about wonderful people doing marvelous things in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina by my good friend Ken Thompson in Elk Creek, Kentucky.  Ken is a minister and sends me good messages, especially on Sundays.  After reading the article I began thinking about the incredible people that I have met during the first 6,000 miles of the bicycle trip.  A few from just the last three weeks came to my mind.  The first was a beautiful Navajo Indian Family near Tuba City, Arizona.  The next was a grand old man at Grand Canyon, Laurent Gaudreau, aka, MAVERICK.  The next one was a doctor in Flagstaff, Arizona, Dr David Yang.  And the other three were the owners and manager of the KINGS RANSOM INN in Sedona, Arizona.

North of Tuba City I came upon a tent shelter where several Navajos were selling their jewelry.  I stopped to talk and also to see if they would let me get in out of the sun, which they did.  During our conversation I was introduced to them.  One special little boy was named Malachi.  He was named after one of the men of the Old Testament.  He was about three years old.  He walked over to me with a small book in his hand.  I was down on one knee when he reached the book to me.  He instantly won me over forever.  He said, "Read to me, Papa".  I was reminded of all my wonderful grandchildren who call me, "Papa".  I gladly read to Malachi.  

The older woman told me she lived in a HOGAN that was built around 1910.  After we talked a while and I explained to her about communicating with the school children in Kentucky.  She said she would take me to her home and let me photograph it for the children.  So, they drove me several miles out into the desert and I photographed the eight-sided hogan for our students to see.  Before I left on the bicycle Malachi had to hug me several times.  

I stopped at Cameron for the night on the banks of the Little Colorado River.  In the local Trading Post gift shop I met a Navajo gentleman.  We talked about his Indian Art and his involvement with the Navajo Nation and its people.  He walked from behind the counter and picked up a beautifully decorated Indian Flute.  I thought it was just for decoration.  He wetted the end with his mouth and then slowly placed his fingers on each of the holes up and down the instrument.  He touched his lips to the wetted stem and out came the most awesome music one could ever hear.  He played several pieces that were part of his heritage.  I could only shake my head and thank him.  He was Tony Semallie of Cameron and he told me he would come to Eastern Kentucky and talk to our children about the Navajos and bring a flute and play for them.   

Mr. Semallie, Thank you for the gift of song

My next stop- the South Rim of the Grand Canyon.  I had been looking forward to this for a long time.  Special things happened on the 67 bicycle trip in many different places and the Grand Canyon was one of them.  My first stop was the Kolb Brothers Photo Shop on the Rim.  In 1967 when I visited I met an old gentleman named Emory Kolb.  Emory and his twin brother Ellsworth were the first people to travel down the Colorado River and film the Canyon in motion pictures.  They did this in 1911 when only a few people had successfully gone through the Canyon.

Emory, at the time, was 86 years old and identified with me instantly, even though I was only in my early 20’s.  I was special to him.  I was a young man on an adventure.  He took me on a personal tour of his home and studio.  He made arrangements for a photographer to take our photo with my bicycle on the Rim. Emory took care of my bicycle and belongings while I walked down the Bright Angel Trail to Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon.

The Studio folks asked me to send them a copy of Emory and me with the bicycle.  And of course I asked a tourist to take a photo of Rocinante and me in about the same place we stood in 1967.

After I visited Kolb's Studio I checked into the campground. At the campground a family stopped by my camp and sat down and started talking.  Their son, about 12 years old, started telling me about the powerful old man that had taken him down to Indian Gardens in the Canyon.  The little boy couldn't stop talking about this "old man."  He said his name was Maverick and that he was 79 years old and he could out-walk anyone.  This family called Maverick on their cell phone and asked him if he would go to the bottom with me the next day.  Within a few minutes all the arrangements were made and I had an invitation to stay all night with Maverick and his beautiful wife, Shirley.  So the next day Maverick took me to Phantom Ranch- my third trip in a lifetime- and Shirley took care of Rocinante and my pack. 

Maverick

Trying to keep up with 79 year old Maverick was a challenge.  During the day we met a lot of people who knew Maverick.  The wranglers on the mule trains knew him by name.  The people at Phantom Ranch treated us special because of Maverick and many of the tourists even knew who he was.  Then I learned more about him.  Before 2004 the most crossings of the Grand Canyon on foot from the North Rim to the South Rim was 20 times in one year.  Now, that’s a 22-mile walk and you descend one mile deep and then you walk back up that mile.  I learned that Maverick had walked Rim-to-Rim 42 times in 2004.  He had walked Rim-to-Rim 20 times this year already.  He didn't count walking down with me because he didn't go to the North Rim.  Incredible man.  And I was impressed that the 12-year-old boy was so impressed with Maverick.  We sometimes think that children do not respect older people.  This young man was highly impressed.  Maverick made my day because he was the Emory Kolb for the 14,000-mile bicycle trip of 2005.  Thank you Maverick and Shirley for a great visit to the Grand Canyon.  

Grand Canyon

I stayed several days at Grand Canyon waiting and hoping for the temperature to drop.  It was over a hundred degrees on my trail ahead.  While I was at the Canyon a couple of teeth that I had worked on before I left home started giving me problems.  When I got to Flagstaff I made an appointment with the very kind and generous Doctor David Yang.  Doctor Yang took me in and removed two teeth.  Wow.  That hurt and it was going to be painful for my billfold, too.  When I went to pay, Doctor Yang told me that it was on him and for me to continue working with the children in Eastern Kentucky and have a safe trip.  I asked if I could have a photo of him with Rocinante and me.  He agreed.  He said that all I owed him was a letter when I reached home.  I agreed.  There are still a lot of good people around.  

Thanks, Doc. This is probably one of the few times Joe wasn't talking.

Sedona was another special stop for me, too.  In 1967 I had been invited to stay three days at the expense of the MGM moviemakers.  They put me up at the Kings Ransom Inn where most of the cast and staff were staying while they filmed a movie in Sedona.  I couldn't believe my good luck.  The name of the movie was “Stay Away Joe” starring the King, ELVIS PRESLEY. Talk about AWESOME.  Elvis was a very down to earth man and was concerned that everyone on the set was taken care of and had plenty to eat.  The publicist sent out news releases of me, Joe the Bicycler, being on the set. I also met and talked to the other stars; Joan Blondale, Katy Juarodo, Burgess Meridith, and Thomas Gomez.

Several years ago I passed through Sedona on vacation.  The morning I was leaving I went downstairs at the Comfort Inn and met a lady at the tourist table and told her that I had stayed in the Kings Ransom Inn in 1967 when they were filming “Stay Away Joe.”  I explained that I couldn't find the Inn.  The lady's name was Clara and she smiled and told me the Kings Ransom was next door and that it had been renovated from a Western design to a more adobe motif.  She also informed me that she, along with her family, owned the Kings Ransom.  She asked my family and me to stay for another night as her guest.  She also owned the Comfort Inn.  So we did.  The next morning she told me that anytime I was in Sedona that I had to stay in the Kings Ransom as her guest.  

That was awesome.  After I got home I sent Clara copies of photos that MGM had given me.   They had been taken during the filming of “Stay Away Joe.”  Before this trip, I contacted Amy, Clara's daughter, and explained that I was doing the 14,000-mile bicycle trip again.  She said,  "When you come through Sedona you will stay at the Kings Ransom as long as you want as our guest." 

When I got to the Kings Ransom Inn this time I met with the manager, Cheryl Benton.  I couldn't have been treated more graciously.  What a great lady to be representing the Inn.  Thank you, Cheryl, for a great stay at the Inn that has hosted the makers of THE MOVIES for more than fifty years in Oak Creek Canyon and Sedona. My sweetheart, Barbara, and I had a great visit at the Kings Ransom Inn for five wonderful days.

On the wall of the Steak House restaurant at the Kings Ransom Inn are the 11x14 photographs that I sent Clara several years ago.  And something kinda cool is that she left my handwriting at the bottom of the photos explaining the photos.  Thanks Clara.

Sept 23

Computers, Barbara, Rt. 66, Hoover Dam, the DenDoovans

I just got my computer to do what I want it to do.  It has been giving me fits for three weeks or more and what puzzles me is I do not know what I did to it to fix it.  I have punched everything on it at least seven times and I have had telephone conversations with the folks that know how these things work.  And they couldn’t help me get it to work.  But now I have started the fifth line and it is still working.

Barbara came out and spent some time with me and it was great.  She is great company and she helped me get through a tough spot with all the heat.   Rocinante and I rode down Route 66 with Barbara carrying our luggage.  It was a big help to me since I have to do the pedaling.  But I am sure Rocinante appreciated it also.  In the mid 1980s, Interstate 40 took another direction through that part of Arizona because the Tribal Council for the Native Americans did not want the traffic and the litter.  Almost all the traffic left Route 66 for over a hundred miles.  While talking to a native I learned that when I rode through there in 67 there were probably 600 to 700 cars an hour.  Barbara counted them for a few hours this time and the traffic is down to about 40 cars per hour.  So I had the highway pretty much to myself.  It was great stopping in and visiting the little boarded up towns with one or two thriving gift shops and a café.  All of their wares celebrate the good old days when Rt. 66 was America’s Mother Road.  We met several people from foreign countries.  They told us that everyone in the world knows about Route 66.  That’s cool.  

This is a modern re-enactment of the famous "Tortoise and the Hare" race. Once again, the tortoise, this time on a bicycle, wins.

We made our way up to the Hoover Dam.  I was amazed at the traffic.  Going down the mountain onto the Dam, Rocinante pulled up beside a group of motor cyclists and stayed with them. Then, when we started crossing the dam I got off Rocinante and started walking him.  One motorcycle couple yelled,  “Hey! That’s cheating.”  I beat them across by fifteen minutes.  After reading all the news stories for the last several months about the water problem throughout the west- and seeing that the water level of Lake Meade is down at least 50 feet- I became depressed.  It is a little scary.  One gentleman there told me that the water level is lower now than it has ever been since it filled up in the mid thirties. Hoover Dam is an amazing combination of architecture and technology.

We came down the river and then started the trip EAST.  I have been waiting for that moment for a long time.  This time I really am headed EAST.  I will do a little meandering but I will be traveling EAST until I get to Florida then turn north to home for Thanksgiving.  Before Barbara got on the plane in Phoenix to go home I had one more stop.  I have good friends in Wickenburg who I wanted Barbara to meet.  And I wanted them to meet Barbara.   

A friendly welcome from the DenDoovans

KC DenDooven and Bonnie are their names and they are great folks to be around.  They were happy to see me and treated Barbara like Royalty.  I met KC back in 67 when I wrote an article for his tourist magazine, Western Gateways.  I wrote about bicycling the Golden Circle, which is Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico.  For the last 30 some years KC has run KC Publications, which he created back in the 60s.  KC Publications produces Interpretive Books in full color for all the National Parks, National Monuments, Historical Trails, Civil War Battlegrounds and other scenic wonders in the United States.  I have nearly every book that he has published in my personal collection.  I have a first edition of the Grand Canyon, The Story Behind The Scenery. 

I told KC and Bonnie about what we are doing with the children in Eastern Kentucky with the bicycle trip and they said they wanted to be involved.  They are sending over 130 different books for the children so they can learn about our awesome National Park System and our magnificent country.  Thanks KC and Bonnie.  Barbara enjoyed her stay with you folks very much.  I look forward to you both visiting our great state of Kentucky.

Barbara is on an American Airline and gone.  And I am a little down.  But David wouldn’t let me stay that way for very long.  The second day out of Phoenix he set me up with an interview with American Way, the in-flight magazine for American Airlines.  It was great talking to the young writer in New York.  She had spent a lot of time in Eastern Kentucky and said she plans to come back often.  My next appointment was with two professional photographers from the D-2 company who were working for Teacher Magazine, which goes to every public and most private schools in the United States.  This will really help our education efforts. That afternoon I made it to Globe and the next morning I was set up for newspaper interviews and spoke to two elementary schools.  That was awesome. Thanks David.

Sept 27

Sgt. James Lopez, Students, Apache Ceremony, the Tall Man

In 56 days the first phase of the 14,000-mile bicycle trip will be completed.  At that time, somewhere near Atlanta, Georgia, I will go home for Thanksgiving.  Throughout the winter we will continue our work with the school children. Then, in March, I will return and complete the bicycle trip through the Eastern and Midwestern states. That’s where our visitors to Kentucky mainly come from.  David and I and others who are helping us will plan this part of the trip.  I promote Kentucky with each and every mile I ride but our tourism promotion will be most fruitful in that area. At that time we will be heavily promoting the Red River Gorge National Scenic Byway, our state parks- especially Natural Bridge State Park, and the Eastern Kentucky Heritage Monument which is the subject of a lot of our website.  If you have missed it go back and take a look.

It is really good to be going East.  Before I turned, while Barbara was still with me, we spent a day in Southern California visiting relatives.  It was good being with my mother in law, Elizabeth Wickersham, brother in law Earl, and my niece, Ginger Wickersham, a great young lady.

I was looking forward to getting to Globe, Arizona, because of something that happened to me in 1980 while I was on the stiltwalk.   In 1980, the Jaycees took me to the home of the James Lopez family for a visit.  At that time, Sgt. James Lopez was a hostage in Iran.  He was the Marine who helped the Canadian diplomats get out of the US Embassy before the Iranians overthrew it.  Sometime later, while I was talking on the phone with Mrs. Lopez, the news came out that the hostages had been released and at that moment had left Iran. Shirley, a wonderful lady and reporter for the local newspaper, the Arizona Silver Belt, tried to locate the family and learned that James is on the East coast and his parents had moved to Phoenix. 

But the good part was that Shirley had made arrangements for me to speak to the elementary schools in Globe and Miami.  The children were incredible.  I was very impressed with the way they presented themselves and the good questions that they asked.  Talking to the children in person or by phone or computer is very rewarding to me.

Sunrise

Shirley also made it possible for me to witness the coming-of-age ceremony for a young Apache woman.  She even drove me out to the San Carlos Indian Reservation to witness the celebration.  We arrived at a compound made with tree branches forming a temporary privacy fence about a half hour before sunup.  The Apache families had gathered there the day before and were camping.  Others came that morning, as we did.  At a designated time all of us walked to another compound about a hundred yards away.  That compound also had the fence made of tree limbs.  The family of the young girl was camped inside.  The breakfast campfire was lit and the coffee was steaming.  This compound had about a twenty-foot opening that faced where the sun would come up later in the morning.  The medicine man leading our group acknowledged to the young girls family that we were all there.

Remember, at this time daylight was just touching the earth and the sun was lighting the distant eastern mountains with an early morning glow.  Most of the Indians were dressed in the beautiful regalia of their tribe.  Two rows of people stood inside the compound facing each other.  The medicine man brought out the young woman.  She stopped, facing where the sun would shine on her as it breached the mountains to the east.  Then, approximately eight Apache Indian men walked over with their drums and took their place behind the young woman and the medicine man.

Softly the drums began their ancient rhythm.  The men, with the medicine man leading, started singing a song in the native Apache Indian language.  Without taking her feet off of the ground the young woman began a dance in rhythm with the drums and song.  It was a very emotional experience.  The two rows of Indian men and women began to keep time with the drums also.  The women never let their feet leave the ground.  They stayed connected to the earth.  The men, however, raised their feet off the ground just an inch or two in the same rhythm.

The stunningly beautiful young Apache woman was dressed in a gorgeous full-length yellow dress.  After each song the medicine man would walk around the girl.  Her assistant would follow.  At this time another garment would be put over the yellow dress.  The first was a beautiful, highly fringed deerskin coat with silver attached.  Then another song.   As the morning sun rose, it slowly illuminated the girl and those standing with her.  This ritual was repeated and with each new song something else was added to the attire.  A silver jewel was placed on her forehead by attaching it to her long straight black hair.  A scarf was added over her heart.  Then a decorated shepherd staff was given to her that was used during the remaining ceremony in keeping with the rhythm and music.

After the next song the medicine man led us out of the compound into the open desert where the ceremony continued.  It was an incredible experience.  I definitely felt like an outsider but they had invited me.  The medicine man even told Shirley and me that we could take photographs.  He warned however, “There is one part where you will not take photographs and I will tell you when to put the cameras away.”  We let him know that we understood.

I want to thank Amanda, the beautiful young Apache woman, the gracious Sanchez family, and the entire tribe for allowing me to be part of this incredible coming-of-age ceremony.

Later, I was on the road again.  I was crossing the San Carlos Indian Reservation on Rocinante.  I was looking forward to getting to the little Indian settlement of Bylas.  It was there that one of the most profound things happened when I walked across the San Carlos on stilts in 1980.  This time, Rocinante and I arrived in Bylas at lunchtime.  I pulled off the highway to find a place to sit down and eat my beanieweanies and crackers when I noticed an older Indian woman with a sandwich-stand ahead of us.  I rode up and leaned Rocinante against a signpost and ordered Apache Indian bread with beans and a cold drink.  It was delicious and I had to have another one.  The lady kept me company.  She was 76 years old and had been educated in North Carolina.  She said that she sincerely tried to live with the white man but just had to come back home to Bylas. 

We sat in the shade of an abandoned building and talked.  I recalled when I stiltwalked through this mysterious desert land of the Apaches in 1980. My mind wandered back.  It was in March.  The weather was cool and nearly perfect for walking.  I approached Bylas in mid afternoon dressed in long white pants, bright red shirt, and carrying a long walking stick.  I was over eight feet tall.  Up the highway on a little rise I noticed probably 30 small Indian children watching me walk toward them.  They were lined up behind an old rickety fence on my left.  They were not moving a muscle.  Most had their hands on the fence, staring.  Closer and closer I walked towards them.  Still, they just watched- no movement.  They were going to watch me walk right past them.  I decided I would stop and talk and turned across the highway toward them.  Suddenly, thirty children turned and ran back toward their homes like wild deer.  Their black hair was flying in the wind.  And no one looked back. 

I had been the Stiltman for a number of years and children had never run from me.  Sometimes, the little ones would take a minute before they could come up and shake my hand but they would never run.  They loved the Stiltman. But these little Apache children had run with all their might.

The next day I arrived at the radio station in Safford where I was scheduled to do a talk-show with a woman from the Bureau of Indian Affairs.  Everything was arranged in the studio and the director showed me to my microphone.  The Indian lady took her seat and we were off for an hour-long conversation.  Instantly, and with a smile on her face, the Indian woman said, “You caused quite a stir on the reservation yesterday.”   “Yes, I know.”  I answered,  “But I don’t know what happened.  Children never run from the Stiltman.”

The Indian woman began to explain.  “You see, there is a legend told to the Apache Indian children and it has been told since ancient times.  It goes like this- A child is supposed to have his dog and himself in camp before dark because there is a tall man that comes through camp at night and fetches kids and dogs.  And there you were, eight feet tall, walking through Bylas in broad daylight. They couldn’t stand by the fence a moment longer.”

We had a good laugh and then the Indian woman said, “I have to do something.”  And she looked at the director for approval.  “It’s okay,” he answered before knowing what she meant. 

“There are a lot of older people on the reservation that speak only Apache and they listen to this program.  Their youngsters interpret for them.  I must tell this story in the Apache language for them.”  And she did.  Sitting there then, and sitting here this day as I eat Apache bread with beans, I think how awesome it is that my story was passed over modern airwaves in this ancient language across the eons-old desert of Arizona.  I knew that I was privileged then. I know it now.