February 2018

Greetings!

Sampling conch foods in the Conch Republic

We have put more than 1300 miles on Sierra's odometer since posting the last Buzz from Florida's Space Coast, and yet we're still in Florida! That's what happens when one of your happy places is the southernmost city in the continental United States. Key West had evaded our itinerary for 8 years and almost dodged a visit this year, too, due to Hurricane Irma last September. The "Conch Republic" hurried to recover enough to revive the flow of those all-important tourist dollars, but we did see much cleanup still in progress as we hopscotched from key to key along the last 100 miles of US 1 that terminates in Key West. After a blissful two weeks revisiting old memories and creating new ones, we made brief stops in the Everglades and Tampa before touching down in Pensacola. Here we will perch at a comfortable Naval Air Station for several days of Native flute concert performances, disc golf experiences and immersion in deep south gulf coast life. As they say during this prolonged season of Mardi Gras, "laissez les bons temps rouler" – let the good times roll!  ~  Brian & Andi

Life on the Road

We witness dramatic variations in flora and fauna as we travel from region to region. Even within Florida, we can tell that we are much farther north than we were a week ago by the change in trees and birds. Key West was a subtropical paradise, mysterious and intriguing to those of us from the mountain west. Palm trees of all types share the landscape with scaly red gumbo limbo trees, pillared banyans displaying many ropey, dangling trunks, and kapok trees with their tall, wavy root structures. By contrast, here in Pensacola we look out the RV windows at tall thin pines and the same gnarly, branching live oaks we enjoyed in Savannah, Georgia. By day we watch woodpeckers navigate the ridged oak bark and just after dark we listen to the hooting of a solitary owl. In the morning we hear a symphony of forest birds, mostly small and difficult to see in spite of their lusty songs. When we were down in the southern keys, the most noticeable birds were long-legged waders like herons and egrets, with rare pink flashes of flamingos or spoonbills. Riding the highest air currents you could sometimes spot the distinctive black, v-shaped wings of a Magnificent Frigatebird. Since we are still hugging the gulf coast, there are several birds that survive in both habitats, a favorite being the brown pelicans that glide so unbelievably close to the waves. A few creatures manage to span most of the places we visit – crows, ospreys, vultures, eagles, raccoons, and ants. Though it is purely a flight of fancy, it is fun to imagine a colorful world where the dominant species are green parrots and bright pink roseate spoonbills instead of dark vultures and black crows.

Wish You Were Here

A slight detour on our trek from the Everglades to Tampa rewarded us with an amazing sight. On the map, our destination said "Manatee Viewing Center" and we were eager for a better look at these roly-poly sea mammals. An endangered species, manatees suffer in cold water and so they congregate in warm areas, like the discharged saltwater used to cool a particular Tampa Bay power station.

The Manatee Viewing Center offers a chance to see stingrays and butterflies, or even experience the wind force of a hurricane, but we were eager for the main attraction. We hustled past the snack bar, gift shop and educational exhibits, single-mindedly climbing the stairs to the wooden boardwalk overlooking the warm canal. There we joined a small crowd of gawkers peering down at the manatees.

 The creatures were drifting and lounging in a peaceful crowd – there must have been a hundred! Their brown backs and tapered shapes looked like a pool full of giant cigars. From time to time a pair of circular nostrils would appear above the surface or a rounded tail would flip up, sending the owner in a dive. Mostly they seemed content just to float in the warm bath. It was fascinating to watch the slow drama unfold and we were reluctant to leave. Finally, we pulled ourselves away and stopped in the gift shop to purchase one small manatee-shaped pin. The smooth, pewter souvenir is now tacked within our RV and an unforgettable memory stored in our hearts.

Coffee Chat

Pastry with a view

We were camped in Key West a short bike ride from the main downtown area and one morning we got up just before dawn, made a thermos of coffee and rode to the marina (after a brief stop at the local bakery.) In the cool, peaceful dawn we found a bench facing the moored boats and there we sat, as the sun came up behind our backs. We watched the docks gradually come alive, one sleepy local after another. Some came to shore by dinghy from anchored boats, others trudged along the docks in flip flops, or broken down boats shoes, or no shoes. Most had the ruddy, leathery skin reflecting a life of sea and sun. We talked to a wheelchair-bound vet and a gregarious author. We watched the charter boat crews clean the decks, coil the lines and fill the ice chests. We observed a homeless man who had "come into money" and purchased a fine boat, though his attire seemed unchanged by the sudden wealth. We did not hurry and were rewarded with what we considered to be a genuine glimpse of Key West. When the sun was full and the coffee and croissants were reduced to drips and crumbs, we wandered off to continue our explorations.

Did You Know?

You expect to see unusual flying objects in Everglades National Park – wood storks, green herons, purple gallinules, and anhingas, but Nike-Hercules missiles? Fortunately, you will not see the missiles in the air, but incongruously located in the preserved wilderness of the Everglades are relics of the Cold War in the form of three 1960's missile defense emplacements. These missiles were prepared to intercept Soviet hostilities launched in Cuba. The use of "HM-69", as the base was called, ended in 1979 and it now has national historic designation. Interestingly, its location and purpose were no secret and the unit even received a rare commendation for preventing rather than engaging in aggression.

Scenes from Key West

No end of interesting architecture in Key West

Scrimshaw: artistic pastime for bored sailors

A protected Key West rooster

Table with a view

Ernest Hemingway house

Key West lighthouse

Must have a floating tiki hut bar

Sunset cruises available

And key lime pie to finish it off

January 2018

Greetings!

Happy New Year! We closed our 2017 calendar at Patrick Air Force Base on Florida's Space Coast. As a result of hurricane Irma damage to the Florida Keys and the necessary recovery at our planned Key West destination, we wound up spending more than a month here at Patrick. Although we are still looking forward to our two upcoming weeks in Key West now that the Navy base RV parks are able to accept campers, the Space Coast has turned out to be an unexpected pleasure. We hope the coming year is full of nice surprises for you as well.   ~   Brian & Andi

Wish You Were Here

Our prolonged visit to central Florida's eastern edge gave us as opportunity for greater exploration of the Space Coast than ever before. The area incorporates a long, skinny strip of barrier island and the adjacent mainland, with Cape Canaveral at the northeast corner. Running down the narrow island, which in some places is barely wide enough to hold little highway A1A, the first town you encounter is Cocoa Beach. Below that is Patrick Air Force Base, then Satellite Beach and Indialantic.

Across the Indian and Banana Rivers on the mainland lie Cocoa, Rockledge, Melbourne and Palm Bay, with Merritt Island between the two rivers. With a semi-tropical climate and tons of lovely waterfront, the Space Coast is a mecca for surfing, fishing, boating and condo living. We found beautiful disc golf courses and enjoyed riding bikes on the flat Florida terrain. When the weather threw a little temper tantrum, we still had a handy Air Force Base fitness center to get our blood pumping. A lack of TV reception motivated us to check out movies at the base library for evening entertainment. Overall, we basked in the balmy, beachy feel and tropical palm trees, pelicans and dolphins. We will also never forget the warning one of us gave the other as we wound our way between cars in a parking lot – "Don't bump your head on that surfboard!" It might be a long time before we get to say that again.

Life on the Road

The church-like interior of the Ryman Auditorium

Playing ukuleles is one of our favorite pastimes while traveling and usually we strum original tunes that I composed on the road. This is Andi speaking, and I thought you might be curious about my songwriting process. It doesn't work the same for every song but I just wrote a tribute tune in response to our recent visit to Nashville. The new song is called "The Ghosts of the Ryman" and since it came about in a fairly typical manner for me, I'll tell you my method.

1. Inspiration came to me in the form of a 4-bar ditty while I was sitting in the passenger seat with my plastic "travel" uke as we were leaving Nashville. It became the introduction (and ending) of the song, establishing a casual, country feel in waltz time.

2. In keeping with the style, I found a fairly basic but pleasing chord progression for the storytelling verses of the song, then some contrasting but related chords for a repeated chorus. This all gets written down so I don't forget it.

3. The next part requires utter silence and isolation (bye, bye Brian...) I strum the chords and try humming melody lines that might make a nice song. I hate to have people hear me testing out ideas – don't ask me why. The best tune gets jotted down in a spiral bound book of music manuscript paper near the chords. Needless to say this takes some amount of pencil lead and lots of eraser rubber.

4. Now the words have to fit the melody and express the sentiment. For this song it took some actual research about Ryman Auditorium in order to get my facts straight (for example, was Sousa there before or after the Grand Ole Opry came to the Ryman?) Then I had to establish a rhyming scheme and figure out exactly how much ground to cover in each verse. For this song I realized I was going to run out of real estate before the story could be told, so I actually added a bridge and another verse. Writing the lyrics usually feels like the hardest work of the entire process; I'll obsess for days (and nights) trying to find a particular rhyme or a three-syllable way to say something. A three minute song can easily consume a dozen or more sheets of notebook paper during the difficult birthing procedure.

5. Finally I give it a test strum for Brian, change a few words that didn't work right, then put it into a legible form so we can begin to learn it together. This is when we work out the arrangement, including strumming or picking patterns, harmony parts, tempo changes and other details.

And a new song is born! Unfortunately, we can't play it well enough yet to record it for you but we hope to add "The Ghosts of the Ryman" to our repertoire soon.

"The bricks of a sinner reborn

stand empty in the Cumberland morning

but when night falls and musical stars appear

the ghosts of the Ryman draw near..."

Coffee Chat

Eight years ago we stumbled upon an unpretentious Cuban restaurant in Melbourne, Florida. There we had our first Cuban sandwich and watched part of a black and white TV documentary about the queen of Cuban music, Celia Cruz. In the tiny garage-like space there was a piano by the wall, guitars on stands and percussion instruments scattered around. It was a charming experience and we felt right at home there.

Now on this trip we wondered if we could find the same restaurant or if it had even survived. Sure enough, El Ambia Cubano is right where we left it. The layout inside had changed a bit and they added some tables and a stage outside.

The owner is the same musician and they frequently have live music and jam sessions. It was like visiting an old friend.

Did You Know?

The Guinness world record for the most surfing Santas in one location is held by Cocoa Beach. It has become a Christmas Eve tradition and we naively decided to check out this local oddity. Little did we know that we would be part of a crowd of 10,000 onlookers (most also in their Santa finery) as 837 surfers dressed in variations on the Old St Nick theme took to the waves.

Scenes of the Space Coast

Perhaps an affordable place...

Even Florida Santas get hungry

A blustery Christmas Day visit to the beach

Grapes at the beach? - Yes, Sea Grapes

A tree full of air plants

Lunch at "Roberto's Little Havana Restaurant"

No longer alive-alive-O

Seagulls beware!

Just another sunset in Paradise

December 2017

Being deer in the headlights at the Bluebird Cafe

Greetings!

Against all odds, we find ourselves roughly as far from the West Coast as it is possible to drive in the "Lower 48." A transition through about ten states in two weeks places us on the Space Coast of Florida, just below Cape Canaveral, halfway down the Atlantic side of the state. According to Google Maps, we are more than 3,000 miles from our home. Perhaps the distance is why we let eight years pass since the last time we admired Spanish moss draping the live oaks in Savannah, sniffed the distinctive odor of salt water mangrove swamps, tasted an authentic Cuban sandwich, or chuckled at the goofy looking manatees printed on signs warning boaters to avoid collisions with these gentle mammals. There is a seasonal charm to the festive Christmas decorations on neighboring RVs at Patrick Air Force Base and even though the camp has been updated since our last visit, the remembered palm trees, egrets, runways, ospreys, base facilities and nearby towns are all comfortably familiar. We hope your holidays are also full of warm, familiar comforts and bright, seasonal festivities.  ~  Brian and Andi

Wish You Were Here

It's nicknamed "Music City", reflecting the vast quantity of popular music that is composed, produced, recorded and performed in the fast-growing metropolis of Nashville, Tennessee. Though much could also be said about Nashville's importance in banking, healthcare, higher education and publishing, it was the legacy of country music that attracted us. Our visit began with an unforgettable performance opportunity related below in "Life on the Road." The rest of the time we were tourists, starting with a trip to the somewhat suburban area called "Music Row."

The heart of Nashville music business

This is where the business of music takes place – recording studios, record label offices and other nitty gritty of legality and distribution that brings music to the people. We wandered along sidewalks amid unassuming buildings that would turn out to be Decca Records, offices of the Country Music Association, BMI, or RCA Studio B where Chet Atkins launched hits by the likes of Elvis Presley and Dolly Parton.

Not a clandestine government agency,
 but the Nashville Songwriters Association main office

A wooden building with a water mill wheel on one end had a sign reading "Nashville Songwriters Association International." A buzzer by the door said to ring for access – so we did! A kind receptionist offered us a form to complete regarding our specific songwriting interests, then we were given a tour of the old mill building which was moved to this site and now served as a two-story composers' clubhouse – recording studio, conference area, writing rooms complete with pianos and guitars, and shared kitchen. A membership to NSAI earns you advice from professionals, free seminars, discount on conferences and many other tidbits to tempt an enthusiastic songwriter. We bought a tee shirt, accepted the proffered business cards, magnets and stickers, and promised to think about joining.

Next stop was Carter Vintage Guitars, a megastore of guitars, mandolins, banjos and other stringed instruments required for the country music sound. We admired the fine workmanship, wondered which big stars might wander in for a new axe, turned over a few price tags and generally kept our hands to ourselves. We overheard the staff filling someone's order for 50 sets of guitar strings and not an eyelid was batted. They gave us a guitar pick, so we were happy.

That would usually be enough for us for one day, but we were staying in an RV park on the outskirts of city center very near the current Grand Ole Opry, so we drove by for a peek at the building - just the outside since the first available tickets were for three months from now. Dusk was beginning to fall and lights glowed on the businesses we were passing.

One that caught our eye was the Willie Nelson and Friends Museum and General Store. Now how could we resist? The store itself was as full of tacky key rings, shot glasses and tee shirts as one might expect, but the museum in the back was informative, comprehensive and truly moving. We saw the Martin guitar Willie used at his Grand Ole Opry debut, the hand written lyrics of his first big songwriting hit (Hello Walls), Waylon Jennings' garment bag (once collected in error at a Paris airport by Henry Kissinger), a Dolly Parton dress plus costumes and memorabilia from scores of other influential artists, a wall covered with gold and platinum records attesting to Willie's popularity, and a huge, worn carpet depicting a Texas flag that once covered every stage on which Willie performed and still displays a single unfaded red spot where his microphone stand was always located. A documentary movie showed Willie and his friends yucking it up about the good old days when they would hang around at Tootsie's Orchid Lounge for inspiration and camaraderie. "Tootsie" (Hattie Louise Bess) would never let a musician go hungry and accepted IOUs for drinks and food without ever collecting the debt. The ideal location across the alley from the Ryman Auditorium made her honky-tonk the hangout of choice for Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline and other famous country musicians, and the interior walls are covered with inscriptions and photos.

The facade of the Ryman Auditorium,
 originally the Union Gospel Tabernacle

And that segues to our next day – a look at Ryman Auditorium and the Nashville honky-tonks. ("Honky-tonk" defines a country-style saloon and also the name of the type of music which was originally played there.) A shuttle bus dropped us in downtown Nashville and we immediately hoofed it to the enormous, red brick Ryman Auditorium that began as a church and has now been a venue to all varieties of music. Although it might be best known as the original home of the Grand Ole Opry, it is safe to say that if you like any music at all, from Caruso to Glen Campbell to the Foo Fighters, someone you admire has performed before the semi-circular wooden benches of the two-tiered Ryman. Without going into too much of its 125-year past, suffice it to say that we felt the thick aura of Ryman history in the dark pews and display cases.

After all, how could you see Minnie Pearl's actual price-tag hat and not be moved?!

We walked across the alley to the back door of Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, prepared to hear one of the live bands for which Nashville's glittering row of honky-tonks is known. To our surprise, not one but three bands were performing on different levels of the crowded bar. We took a rooftop table in the November sunshine and had lunch in earshot of several other honky-tonks, all competing for the attention of our eardrums. The first few blocks of Broadway up from the Cumberland River explode with boots stores, tee shirt shops, souvenir stores, and bar after bar featuring live music. We left Nashville feeling simultaneously drained, nostalgic and invigorated. You can expect a new song to join our ukulele repertoire as a result of our visit to this inspiring "Music City."

Life on the Road

Queuing up at the Bluebird Cafe

As wandering minstrels, we sometimes take advantage of open mic situations to test our ukulele tunes on new, receptive, non-judgmental audiences. There is a small club in Nashville called The Bluebird Cafe that has launched the careers of many a singer-songwriter and hosts intimate concerts by established and rapidly rising stars. It is hard to get tickets for these performances, but their web page had a tab labeled, "how to play". We pressed it out of curiosity and discovered they have an open mic on Mondays. Realizing we would arrive in Nashville on a Monday, we double-dared each other to play at the famous Bluebird. To get on the list, you have to phone them on the very Monday you wish to play and they take the first 25 callers. That Monday we were driving from Arkansas, but we pulled off the freeway shortly before the appointed time of 11:00am, hoping we actually had figured the time zone correctly. With the number punched into the phone and a finger on the dial button, we watched the clock strike 11:00 and pressed call. The first try resulted in a recorded message about no one being available. We hung up and immediately dialed again – too late, it was busy. Tried again, busy. Dialed again, again, again for 20 minutes and suddenly got a voice at the other end. (Uh, oh!) Hello, we'd like to play on your open mic and yes, we can be there at 5:15. Gulp – we were in!

The big moment

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur – something about driving 100 miles, checking in at our RV park, finding The Bluebird early enough to park the RV on a nearby street, drinking coffee, changing clothes and collecting our ukuleles. It all comes into focus again as we stood in the brisk, gathering darkness on the sidewalk outside The Bluebird chatting with other musicians for about half an hour before being ushered inside. We nervously found one of the small tables up front labeled "Reserved for Songwriters and Guests", pulled out our instruments to let them warm up and tucked our cases under our chairs. We glanced at some sort of menu in the half light and politely ordered a snack and water, though neither of us could eat. The event ran like clockwork and we were assigned slot number 15. Each musician popped onto the low stage in front of bright lights, plugged in the dangling cord, adjusted the mic and gave us one song. Some folks had lots of poise and experience, others bravely gave it their all, and everyone was rewarded with sincere applause. For our part, we performed "Island Sun" and it seemed that we really had them under our spell! There was a good show of appreciation and lots of kind remarks whispered afterwards. We felt good. A few folks had their names drawn to play again, including us. In honor of the upcoming holidays we concluded with "An Island Christmas" and were rewarded with similar enthusiasm. When the open mic was over, we filed back out into the cold, black Nashville night, each breathing a sigh of equal parts gratitude and relief.

Did You Know?

Kelly Slater riding a wave in front of Ron Jon Surf Shop

Without question, the most successful professional surfer of all time is Kelly Slater, who was born in Cocoa Beach, Florida, just up the road from where we are now camped at Patrick Air Force Base. His larger-than-life image surfs a mighty cement wave in front of a larger-than-life store called Ron Jon Surf Shop. Ron Jon is a two story megastore of all things beachy from boards and Hawaiian shirts to sandals and household decorations. It is open 24/7 and we counted no fewer than 17 giant billboard ads on our drive down from Savannah.

Coffee Chat

It has been eight years since we have visited the Space Coast and for eight years we have been receiving monthly emailed invitations to the Indian River Native Flute Circle, which we attended one time. We enjoy this little link with Florida and have not been able to bring ourselves to ask them to remove us from their email list. We are glad we didn't because a timely reminder gave us the opportunity to meet up with them once again in the Cocoa Public Library. Every face was new but the welcome was warm, the playing was fun, the many Native flutes were beautiful, and the emails will continue to taunt us.

More scenes from Nashville

Got boots?

One of Tootsie's three floors of bars with live music

Ryman's back row seats, complete with monitors and speakers

Hmmmm... exactly what I need at home. Not!

Setting up for a Vince Gill and Amy Grant Christmas special

Soaking up the vibe

Just one of Nashville's many excellent bands

Willy himself, larger than life

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