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Dark Knight / Le Chevalier Noir
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---- Nous avons besoin d'un traduction français!
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All joking aside, the city of Lubbock, Texas has the prairie dog as its official mascot and I received a stuffed one in my gift basket. Its the ugliest thing. What to do? I gave it as a gift to my granddaughter and she loves it and sleeps with it. I wonder what city has the coyote as its official mascot?
Don't think Meaford, Ontario has the coyote as the official mascot, but we have lots of them! And I'm afraid you wouldn't find a chess tournament ( though the odd one appears in Owen Sound ).
Flagstaff continued - After a nice refreshing sleep I decided to take a day to look around Flagstaff and Im glad I did.
Flagstaff is only a small city of about 50,000 but a happening place. It has a large university (U of Northern Arizona), a lively street culture and hundreds of interesting shops in a fairly small downtown (easy to get to).
The hostel (which is a hundred year old converted former inn with many small cottages on the grounds) is located on a street corner right across from 3 popular bars and two trendy restaurants with great food.
It was also only two blocks from the university grounds and two blocks from the downtown.
Across the street were two connected old warehouses that had been converted into the Lumberyard (also converted from a lumberyard) a very popular bar with at least 30,000 ft of floor space and high ceilings with the old beams and historic pictures on the wall.
In the back they make their own beer and their Lumberyard Red has won awards and I can personally vouch for its pleasant affect on both my palate and brain cells.
On the Saturday evening they had their Halloween party and although there were two other bars with competitive parties this place was full with hundreds of different costumed characters.
Behind the lumberyard was the railway and it was very busy. Every half hour a train would go by with 3 or 4 locomotives and at least a hundred cars and it was interesting to see quite a number of Canadian Pacific and CN cars.
On the other side of the tracks was the old railway station, a beautiful heritage site with painted walls and murals and interesting historic objects. About a third of it functioned as a current station but two thirds was now a welcome center and tourist shop and it was a meeting point for all the shuttles and transport services.
Ironically it was also my best source for local info and my best deals were obtained here on tourist items. (example - a walking cane made from sassaparilla (a wood formerly used in the manufacture of root beer), the cheapest and best calendar of the Grand Canyon, and incredible deals on petrified wood and gem stones from the area)
Flagstaff's major grocery store, Fry's, was a one mile walk (which I thoroughly enjoyed) along old Route 66. The air was bracing (like a drink of cold mountain water as the old songsmiths used to say) and the shops along the way interesting.
Frys was very upfront with their approach. They were in the business of selling groceries and they just wanted your business. (so how are they different from other grocers??) Well - they immediately pressured me to get a discount card. - didnt care that I was from out of state let alone out of country - just fill out the application sir. What convinced me was the sight of my all time favorite beer - Sam Adams - and their latest Oktoberfest special. A twelve pack was regular 22.99 but with a Frys Discount Card 10 dollars off - no further arm twisting necessary. Altogether in two visits I purchased $30 worth of items and received more than $20 off.
Although a tour and hike in the Grand Canyon was offered from the hostel they had the right to cancel if they didnt reach minimum numbers.
It was the start of the off season and I was afraid if I waited until the tour and they cancelled I might miss the Grand Canyon altogether so I decided to book via Arizona Shuttle - the only shuttle with daily service.
However I didnt want to wait and pay the driver the next morning because they had the same stipulation. So I decided to pay their office a visit.
I went to what I thought was the local bus depot but turned out was just a platform in the middle of a parking lot. However it did have a schedule and map on a plexiglass divider and by coordinating I realized the no.5 bus was going in that direction. However the next bus was in 45 minutes so I decided to walk.
A 10 minute walk got me to my street and there the adventure began. I was on a street with business buildings and light industrial and the address was only 500 in numbers away so it couldnt be too far.
Wrong assumption.
The numbers went up by two and with vacant lots in between, well after a dozen twists and turns and more than two miles later just as I was worrying I was walking to the next town (and my chest had been heaving for the last mile) I finally stumbled on the place.
Typical chess player - I was still trying to work out how they would number those vacant lots when they finally developed them.
Unwittingly I got my preparatory exercise for the Canyon on that walk - an estimated 6 miles back and forth.
Well long walks build appetites (especially with the mountain air) and I decided to wander downtown and find a special place for a special meal. Again typical chessplayer - I pass all sorts of restaurants (and cant make up my mind) but what finally caught my eye was a place which had two (not one but two!) chess sets in the window. Obviously a sign from Caissa so in I went.
The restaurant called Pastos was an odd setup. Where the chess sets were set up was a separate room and vacant and open to the foyer.
One had to turn right and step up to enter what looked like a gorgeous ball room (except full with large mahogany dining tables) and was obviously a fine dining establishment.
It was explained to me by my server. Where the chess sets were was actually a coffee bar where they also served light breakfasts and lunches, was very popular with the lunch crowd and had a separate staff.
Well it obviously wasnt going to be the meal I first envisioned and I had some qualms about the final price but I decided there and then that I was in for a culinary adventure, and what an adventure it turned out to be.
It was here I first discovered Lumberyard Red.
Most people would order red wine to start the meal I was planning on having but Im a beer man, always have been.
Lumberyard Red was the recommendation and I liked it so much I ordered two steins back to back.
The menu started with cheeses (Appetizers and separately 8 listed cheeses) So of course I queried my server as to how they arranged the cheeses.
He was a nice young man of Irish background (ex university student but it seems like they are all ex or current university students in Flagstaff) and with a good sense of humor and quick wit which helps in dealing with me. Apparently they arrange the cheeses on a large plate with many fresh fruits, nuts and veggies as well as different herbs and sauces.
It was exquisite. - a taste sensation -the cheese was a large slab of Sicilian Almond with what turned out to be fresh figs, a couple of marinated, stewed tomatoes, many other fresh fruits and veggies, and a wide assortment of local nuts - and a personal favorite hickory smoked almonds! - and it went perfectly with the Lumberyard Red! (and only $8!)
Soup followed - not just any old soup but pureed asparagus with an amazing herbal blend and bruschetta right in the middle of it.
The main course was a Mediterranean stir fry that had all kinds of subtle flavors and the dessert was a weird layered Italian cake (which had a taste sensation akin to croissants) and even harder to believe what Im sure was German bean coffee. And after such a wonderful meal - a relief - total price of only $50.
I wish I was there now having the same dining experience.
Time to go - Im hungry.
I took the shuttle from Flagstaff to the Grand Canyon.
Its 74 miles of pretty much boring scenery (a National Forest both sides) and the price $64 (including park entrance which is $12 and good for a week) which is a bit steep considering the driver didnt talk at all.
A much better deal is from Williams, Arizona (20 kms west of Flagstaff) - the price is $30 cheaper and its 30 miles closer.
Grand Canyon National Park is a very well run organisation. It has 2000 rangers (the police and rescue force) and 3000 other employees.
Many of them live there year round in families in a well organized town, some choose to work six months a year and live elsewhere for 6 months.
A gentleman on the shuttle was coming in from Thailand where he lives for 6 months with his Thai wife and family. He was not happy to leave his family but happy to leave the flooding.
He explained some of the organizational details to me. Every job position gets extensive training. Some jobs are entry jobs and others are bid on.
He was very satisfied with working conditions and he thought most noteworthy in terms of employee satisfaction was that employees were encouraged to present creative ideas and then would spend committee time deciding what ideas should get priority and work toward implementing them. An example of a successful idea was determining that plastic water bottles are the largest form of waste at the Canyon and manufacturing top quality shopping bags from recycled water bottles.
After orientating myself and seeing Hopi House and Kolb Studio (the closest places from the shuttle drop off - only a 200 yard walk away) and the surrounding panoramic views of the Canyon, I decided to take a local shuttle to the end of the line westwards.
The Canyon has shuttle buses that take you anywhere you want to go free of charge - Blue, Green, Red, Yellow Shuttles. (Another nice feature of the Grand Canyon is they hit you with only the one time fee of $12 at the entrance - all other basic services are free.)
I took the Blue Shuttle to the west end - it makes stops every 5 minutes at viewing points of the canyon where you can get off and get back on to continue your viewing experience.
The shuttle ended up at Hermits Rest where I decided to do a hike on the Hermits Rest Trail.
The stop and trail are named after a character called the Hermit who built a cottage under the rim about a 100 years ago and worked a mine there for the rest of his life. The story interested me so much I decided to hike down to see the cottage and the workings but what was described as a 2 hour hike - of course I failed to factor in double the time to return.
It was a very torturous trail with large rocks with sharp edges continually cutting across the trail and sand often to a couple of inches in depth covering the trail and extremely steep switchbacks.
I saw a rattler on a rock about 50 ft distant but by the time I focused my camera it had slithered away. After half an hour I decided to turn back and it took me almost an hour to climb back to the top and at the end my chest was heaving and I was soaked in sweat.
All the trailheads have large info placards that describe conditions, suggested time of travel, suggested equipment and tips for hiking - and central a story about a previous hike.
Apparently a 23 yr old girl, honours university graduate and athlete, (just finished the Boston marathon that spring), decided to hike the Grand Canyon with a male friend in July 2005 (?). They had all the proper equipment and plenty of water. When they started at the rim it was 70F and when they got to the bottom it was 110F. She collapsed of heat exhaustion. They were rescued within 20 minutes but she could not be revived. The parents agreed to have that story posted as a warning to hikers.
My time at the Hermits Rest gift shop was much better spent. It was full of fascinating items and I even ended up buying a Grand Canyon blanket made of recycled material because the craftsmanship was of high quality.
The following morning I returned to the Grand Canyon as part of a tour organized by the Grand Canyon International Hostel in Flagstaff where I was staying (the professional tour guide Greg was boyfriend of the coowner of the hostel - Maria).
The group was small (the perfect size for me) - there were 6 of us - 4 guys and 2 women.
I highly recommend if its your first trip to the Canyon try to arrange for a hiking guide and get in on a group.
For me it was only $20 more expensive than the previous days shuttle and I got to ask a couple of hundred questions - in fact after a while I was embarassed by all the questions I was asking and mentioned that I must be a pain but Greg (the guide) said that was what he enjoyed the most - challenging questions which stimulated him and make the tour more enjoyable.
Just the tips alone about cheaper places to buy food and where to get better souvenirs made his price totally worthwhile.
If you go to the Canyon and are budget conscious then going to their supermarket is a must - great prices and they have virtually everything - including souvenirs at best prices.
Our tour started by going to the supermarket and stocking up and then we did an overview of the best viewing sites and the most interesting places to visit.
One of the things that Greg pointed out was the different trails into the canyon - there are 6 on the South Rim alone that are open to hiking.
The Bright Angel Trail is the most popular but it became clear that the South Kaibab trail was the best - both in terms of ease of travel and the stunning and varied views.
Gregs knowledge of plants, bird and animal life, and rock and stone formations was encyclopedic but as he said he is still always learning and enjoying the learning experience - especially what relates to what and how birds, animals, and plants relate to each other.
We heard an interesting story about the mules (I was too heavy for a mule ride - the limit is 200 lbs.).
The mules with passengers go down the Bright Angel trail and the mules with baggage go down the South Kaibab Trail.
The folks at the Canyon are proud of advertising that they have never lost a passenger on a mule but what is less known is they lose about 2 baggage mules a year.
Part of the reason is that the mules start as baggage mules and only after 10 years when theyve survived and proved their worth are they transferred to passenger mules.
Interestingly Greg was wearing sandals for the tour! When I questioned him he replied that his sandals were "golden" and had never let him down.
He then mentioned he had done 22 hikes from rim to rim (each at least a week in duration) with full hiking gear and the record was held by a legendary guide (I forget the name) who had just retired after a lifetime of well over 100 rim to rim hikes.
About 2pm we got a chance for our own hike! down the South Kaibab trail to Cedar Ridge (basically descending the main cliff to the first "bottom" about 1200 ft down and a total distance of about 3 miles). The total hike took about 2 hours and I was amazed by the pace Greg set - never pushing and almost always "taking it easy" but we covered ground fairly fast.
He pointed out where the last mule had gone over and where it landed - impossible to get to - and hikers had to put up with the smell for several weeks until the bones were picked clean.
He pointed out a type of cactus which lives most of its life as an ugly, awkward plant but as it prepares to die it shoots out a root more than 4 meters long that contains seed pods in the tip - just like a giant erection (one giant explosion for its whole life - very graphic sexually and the explanation much appreciated by the women)
The views on the hike were absolutely stunning and if you hike the Canyon the South Kaibab Trail is highly recommended and the overnight stay at the ranch at the bottom along the Colorado river is sensational but it requires at least two days hiking and needs to be booked a year in advance.
We finished up with a visit to the Watchtower in the east end (which has the best views of the Canyon especially at sunset - and an interesting museum and gift shop).
Then we drove out of the park into Navaho land with Navaho Mountain on the horizon (panoramic views) and many Navaho jewelry shacks along the side of the highway.
All in all a memorable day.
The Long Ride Back Home - The day before leaving Flagstaff I prepared for the return trip by going to the bus depot and enquiring about return routes. The agent checked his computer and told me I should go via Albuquerque, New Mexico, Amarillo, Texas, Oklahoma City and then St. Louis. I told him there was no way I was going to return through Amarillo and then told him about my baggage mishandling in Amarillo on the way to Flagstaff. He laughed and then said that several previous passengers had related horror stories about baggage being lost or missing connections in Amarillo. He found it humorous - I guess thats customer service in a way as well - - and when I asked for alternative routes he suggested Albuquerque - Denver and then points east. I didnt get an ominous feeling but I should have. The return trip ended up being 70 hours! I got on the bus 2pm Sunday and the only seat open was three from the back and I was surrounded by black teenagers. How was I going to handle that? I solved it by pulling out my pocket chess set and asking if anyone played chess. Sure enough I got a positive response - not from the toughest looking one but the one that looked like the best athlete. Bradley Spencer was his name. He had learned chess in school in LA, lived there with his mom, but was going to a better high school in Tupelo, Mississippi, and going to be living with his dad. We warmed up by playing a couple of games on the pocket set and then I asked him if he wanted to play blindfold chess - I would teach him. He surprised me by playing 13 moves before the position got too difficult (the surprise was that he got so far not knowing any openings) and then he asked me who I was. I dug out my card and he then said he had a whopper of a story to tell his friends. I told him to do me a favor and join the chess club at his school and if it didnt yet have a club to do his best to get one happening. He then surprised me by wanting to continue playing blindfold chess and also having at least a hundred questions about my job and tournament chess and the world of international chess. It was all new to him. Im still expecting an email from him as to how things are going.
The Long Ride Back Home (continued) We reached Gallup, New Mexico after about 3 hours. Gallup is the center of the Indian Nation with Navajo, Hopi, Zuni, and Apache reservations all around.
To the west and north a beautiful red sandstone rock called Defiance Ridge stretches for more than 100 miles.
We pulled up in front of an old fashioned trading post which had been converted into a large variety store with a hair stylist/ smalll diner/fast food options/ social corner with benches/ Greyhound agent on the side.
On the inside of the large glass front windows newspaper clippings had been posted (dated from about 3 years previous right to the present) announcing the deaths of at least 5 of the original Ghost Talkers (World War Two War Heroes) from the area. There was also an interview with the only surviving Ghost Talker in the area. Interesting reading.
Indian women walked up and down the boardwalk out front their hands full of jewellery, weaving, and crafts trying to sell to the Greyhound passengers. The men (and in some cases whole families) sat in pickup trucks (kids in the back) waiting for them.
When we got back on the bus a young pretty Navajo woman with her daughter was seated beside me. She ended up having cell phone conversations for the next two hours where I could hear every word (whether I wanted to or not).
Apparently she had been visiting home on the reserve and the plan was to visit for a week but after two days she had enough of her mother. She called her mother several repeated names that I cant mention here on chesstalk and after she got thru her book of social contacts she apologised to me (and all my neighbors) and explained her family situation.
Her mother is the matriarch and everything must meet with her approval. Her father is always passive and nobody else will buck her mother. Early on her mother had designated her (the daughter) career as an art slave - she was supposed to design jewellery and crafts - and as soon as she could she had run away from the res.
She had run to Oklahoma?! and met a seven foot tall black guy and had a love child (the daughter beside her who at age 9 was already taller than her and looked more like her father).
She was very happy now with her bartending job in an Oklahoman City with a large university where she served rich students drinks.
She then went on to tell me that she was a Navajo princess who personally would inherit 70,000 acres of land (I asked how many rattlesnakes and she said Indians dont own wildlife and I said I thought they were not supposed to own land either)
Around here she directed her conversation towards my fellow passengers and not so much to me but I did manage to encourage her to apply to the Jerry Springer show. This charade went on almost all the way to Albuquerque. (and no I didnt warn her about Amarillo)
On and off I've finally caught up to all the stories :)
It's clear that although not always pleasant, you've had a truly memorable adventure! Thank you for sharing these, and please keep them coming.
Reading these actually makes me feel good about browsing through chesstalk, for a change.
The Long Ride back home continued.
I changed buses in Albuquerque. About midnight I boarded my next bus and I thought I had got on the wrong bus!
The driver (when he finally arrived) gave a speech in Spanish, every thing in Spanish! Was I headed to Mexico??
I leaned over and asked the guy on the other side of the aisle: "Do you speak english?" "Oh, yezz" "Bus going to Colorado?" "Oh, yezz"
Again: "Bus going to Denver?" "Oh yezz" What time does bus arrive in Denver?" "Oh yezz"
I started feeling uncomfortable.
This was Greyhound America but I felt I was in a part of Mexico.
The bus started going and I felt worse. A horrible squealing noise and swaying from side to side every time the bus braked.
Thoughts flashed thru my mind - we were headed north thru mountains averaging over 10,000 feet.
Should I sit in the back, the middle, or the front of the bus?
What were my best chances of survival?
Of course my luggage had the best chances of survival.
Where should I leave the note? In my pocket or in my luggage?
Should I demand to get off the bus right now?
And if I did would I be mugged by Mexicans, Indians, white trash, or wild animals??
Believe me my thinking wasnt pleasant and at every corner - screeeeeeech. Metal on metal. Earplugs didnt help.
When the bus was on the highway somehow I nodded off.
At 3 in the morning we had our rest stop. Screeeeeeeeeech!
It was a peculiar looking building in a Mexican village. It looked like an old fashioned 3 story house with a two story stable in the back.
Turns out that what looked like a stable was the rest stop. A Mexican cafe/bar/mini variety. Behind it loomed the steeple of a church. In front was the burnt out wreck of a car and a bunch of greasy characters huddled on the sidewalk enjoying cigarettes. I did not venture out.
We approached Denver at first light but then crawled thru its suburbs (on the freeway) in an immense 2 hour traffic jam.
I dont remember much of Denver except screeeeeeech, screeeeeeech, screeeeeeech, forever and ever imprinted on my brain.
The Long Ride Back Home (continued).
Boarding the bus in Denver we had to wait 15 minutes for the driver. He arrived in a hurry, his tie askew, his uniform rumpled, his hair in every direction. He looked and acted like he had a hangover.
No speech, in fact not one word. He drove off in a hurry and probably broke speed records trying to get thru Kansas.
I learned about Kansas the hard way - it seemed to go on forever.
3 hours into the ride a passenger approached the driver and asked when the rest stop would be. Still no word from the driver.
However he pulled over 20 minutes later at the next interchange and pulled up in front of a MacDonalds. His timing was impeccable. It was noon hour and before counting the bus passengers the lineup was 30 long.
I went to the next place, a Subway, and there were about 20 in the lineup. Ditto for the next place. I cursed the driver.
I went back to the bus relieved that I had come prepared. Leaving Flagstaff and remembering my bus trip from Canada experience I had stocked up with 12 grain bread and peanut butter and that was my lunch, in fact it would end up being 3 meals in a row.
The driver left the rest stop in a hurry. 20 minutes down the road a passenger told him he had left someone behind. He turned around and drove madly back to the rest stop but couldnt find the passenger.
Back we went down the highway a second time. 15 minutes later there were flashing lights in the rear and a state trooper pulled him over. The lost passenger got on the bus and the driver got off and walked back to the back of the bus with the state trooper yelling and pointing the finger.
What happened? Apparently just before the end of the rest break the lost passenger had gone into Mickee Dees to use the washroom and the driver didnt bother to do a head count when he took off.
The lost passenger managed to flag down a woman in a van and then used her cell phone to call the state troopers and they coordinated (apparently four of them) a search for the bus. The bus driver confused them when he turned around so it became quite the mission. Also the state trooper noticed that the engine cover at the back of the bus was raised so he gave the driver a ticket.
6 hours later, with a very brief (ten minute) stop in between, we arrived in a small town 2 hours from Kansas City. The driver disappeared without having said a word to any of the passengers during the entire trip.
The new driver got on with a black notebook and walked thru the bus endlessly noting things in the notebook and then back off the bus and a couple of times around again busily scribbling in his notebook.
He then came on and made an announcement; the bus was going to be impounded, however he first had to drive the bus two hours to Kansas City (he had no choice) where it would be taken out of service. We would switch buses and continue 4 hours to St. Louis. What about the fact that we were two hours behind schedule? What about missed connections? He would do his best but no guarantees.
That was my introduction to Kansas.
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