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BIG FOOT DISCOVERED!

Brad Herzog — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 23:50:00 -0400

This isn’t a belated April Fool’s joke. No hoax. No ruse. No scam. It’s the real deal. Big Foot!

But let me back up a bit. Way back to 1983. That’s the year when a classic road trip film was released – National Lampoon’s Vacation. You knew what kind of movie it was going to be pretty early on, about the time Clark Griswold (played by Chevy Chase) declared, “Hey, hey, easy kids. Everybody in the car. Boat leaves in two minutes... or perhaps you don't want to see the second largest ball of twine on the face of the earth, which is only four short hours away?"

Yes, here in America we’re obsessed with superlatives. The biggest this. The tallest that. It has spawned a small-town frenzy to see who can come up with the quirkiest tourist attraction.

I’ve seen a handful of these – the World’s Largest Themometer (Baker, CA), the World’s Largest Wagon (Spokane, WA), the World’s Largest Buffalo (Jamestown, ND), the World’s Largest Muskie (Hayward, WI), the World’s Largest Dinosaurs (Cabazon, CA), the World’s Largest Tire (Allen Park, MI), the World’s Largest Drug Store (Wall, SD), even the World’s Largest McDonald’s (Orlando, FL).

But it gets weirder. Try hard enough and you can find places boasting, among other absurdities, the world’s largest spinach can (Alma, AR), ketchup bottle (Collinsville, IL), cheese wheel (Berlin, OH), yo-yo (Chico, CA), hairball (Garden City, KS), Ten Commandments (Murphy, NC), and fake nose and glasses (Michigan City, IN).

But if you really want to catch a glimpse of a bunch of strange sculptures – in one convenient location – all you have to do is point your RV toward Vining, Minnesota (population 68). Go there and visit Big Foot Gas and Grocery. You can’t miss it. It’s fronted by a sculpture of an enormous coffee cup suspended by a stream of coffee. It looks as though it is being poured by an invisible giant. Next to the gas station is Nyberg Park, which I can only describe as a sort of psychedelic sculpture garden. There are about a dozen oversized creations there – an immense watermelon being sliced by a knife as big as a canoe, a colossal set of pliers, a massive square knot, a giant elk, a huge potted cactus.

All of the creations are the products of the off-beat imagination of a friendly fellow named Ken Nyberg, who is now in his early seventies. I met him a few years ago at his workshop, which is about a mile up the road, not too far from the 20-foot-tall clothespin that looks down on the tiny Vining post office and the 1,200-pound foot (complete with swollen big toe) that was his very first creation. Yes, that Big Foot.

I asked Ken why he does it – sometimes for a commission (i.e. a huge otter for the community of Ottertail), but usually on a whim. He gave the answer I should have expected: “Why not?”

For one thing, his creations have put Vining on the map – or at least in the quirky pages of Roadside America guides. For another, he has learned to appreciate the great gift of retirement – the luxury of having options instead of responsibilities. So he simply opts to construct the World’s Largest Doorknob.

And here’s another factoid about Ken Nyberg: In June 2008, his daughter, Karen, was part of a seven-member crew that undertook a 14-day mission aboard NASA’s space shuttle Discovery, making her one of only a few dozen female astronauts ever to rocket into space. So I’d say she’s his most impressive creation.

Meanwhile, here’s one LARGE step for mankind:

SIGN, SIGN, EVERYWHERE A SIGN

Brad Herzog — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 12:36:00 -0400

So here I was, driving through northeastern Indiana, I was traveling with extra vigilance because the trip was part of the immersion experience for my next book (Turn Left at the Trojan Horse, coming soon to a bookstore near you). Specifically, I was headed for a town called Plato, one of many Greek-and-mythology-themed places that were part of my itinerary as I approximated a cross-country version of The Iliad and The Odyssey.

Plato is at the eastern fringe of one of the nation’s largest Amish communities. In fact, I had spent much of the previous day in the little town of Shipshewana, where there is a twice-a-week flea market in which some 860 vendors descend on the community of 536 people. There is also a museum there devoted to the history and culture of the Amish community (the Menno-Hof Museum). When late afternoon arrived, I took a horse-and-buggy ride into the countryside, where I was fed dinner by an Amish family – a enlightening, if slightly uncomfortable, experience.

So I wasn’t too surprised when I finally arrived in the little crossroads of Plato (and that’s pretty much all it is) and the first thing I witnessed was an Amish buggy clopping in the opposite direction. The second thing I encountered was basically the only commercial establishment in town – a business (LaGrange Monument Works) that sells tombstones.

But here’s the funny thing: Along the highway, right in front of the business, there stands a no passing zone sign. Can I possibly be the first person to get a chuckle out of this juxtaposition?

I revel in ironic signs like that, signs that break up a long drive by offering an opportunity for a spontaneous grin. I remember when Amy and I made our first visit to Yosemite, arriving at an RV campground at the Fishing Bridge area of the park. The current bridge itself is more than 70 years old now, and it used to be a very popular place to fish because it was apparently a major spawning area for cutthroat trout. But when the trout population began to dwindle in the early 1970s, the activity was curtailed.

So it was that we arrived to drive past a sign that said FISHING BRIDGE. And then, about ten feet later: CLOSED TO FISHING. That one’s in our scrapbook, along with snapshots of bison grazing and geysers spraying.

I’ve got one more. Right after my journey through Plato, I motored into Ohio and headed for a town called Pandora. Greek mythology aficionados may recall her as the woman who unleashed misery on mankind by opening the lid of a jar (or box) that was supposed to remain unopened. Out came a multitude of plagues – sorrow and mischief, spite and envy, everything from revenge to rheumatism. All that was left, sitting in the bottom of the jar, was hope.

So again, I wasn’t all that surprised when I arrived in the Rockwellian community in west-central Ohio to find an eatery called Pandora’s Lunch Box. But check out what I came across in the photo below. Given the tale behind the name, this cracked me up:

QUIRKY RESOLUTION

Brad Herzog — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 13:51:00 -0400

Last year, one of my New Year’s resolutions was to see some of the nation’s great locales that I haven’t yet visited. I listed 20 places on my to-do list – from Glacier National Park to Fenway Park – and I managed to cross five of them (including Key West and the Everglades) off the list this past summer.

I plan to cross off a few more this coming summer, including Burlington (Vermont), the Adirondacks and Acadia National Park. Meanwhile, I have another list that I’m resolved to solve. There are four quirky places (each sharing a similar motif) that I’d like to visit, if only to quench some curiosity:

Cadillac Ranch – Located in a cow pasture along I-40 just west of Amarillo, Texas, this is essentially a collection of used, graffiti-covered Cadillacs, half-buried, nose-first, all leaning in the same direction. Art, of course, is a matter of perspective. One person’s junkyard is another’s public sculpture masterpiece. But either way, it’s sort of irresistible. Besides, visitors are encouraged to add their own graffiti.

Carhenge – Like Cadillac Ranch, this attraction is open 24 hours a day, no admission (though donations are gladly accepted). And like the Ranch, there are mid-19^th century cars involved. But these are painted gray and specifically buried or balanced to replicate Stonehenge, that mysterious Wonder of the World in England. All 38 stones of Stonehenge are represented. Also on site – outside of Alliance, Nebraska – is the Car Art Reserve. This consists of sculptures made entirely of cars and/or car parts.

Stonehenge – It’s the brainchild of an entrepreneur and road builder named Sam Hill. He envisioned a Quaker community in south-central Washington (on the outskirts of Goldendale), but he was the only Quaker who moved there. Instead, he built a French mansion on a cliff overlooking the Columbia River, which is now the quirky Maryhill Museum of Art (which includes original works by Rodin). Nearby sits an 80-year-old concrete replica of Stonehenge that Hill commissioned as a monument to the sacrifices of war. I’m not sure what the connection is, but it’s cheaper than sacrificing $$ to visit England.

Stonehenge II – Yep, there’s one more. About three-quarters the size of England’s original, this one is in the Texas outback, way off the beaten path, but not too far from the city of Kerrville. On either side of it are a couple of 13-foot-high Eastern Island statues, just for good measure. It’s sort of like putting a replica Statue of Liberty next to a replica Great Pyramid. But that’s just quibbling… (and that’s just Las Vegas).

There also used to be an attraction near Santa Fe, New Mexico known as – get this – Stonefridge: A Fridgehenge. That’s right – junked refrigerators placed in that familiar mystical pattern. It was created in 2003, but within a few years it had fallen into disrepair, and apparently it has since been removed.

Still, you have to admire American ingenuity. We take a world-class icon and make it our own, for better or for worse. So I vow to visit at least one of them.

KING DAVID AND A CASTLE

Brad Herzog — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 02:23:00 -0400

Last week, I wrote about how sometimes the residents of small rural communities retain much of the culture of the immigrants who spawned the town – the windmills in Amsterdam (Montana), for instance, and the polka in Prague (Nebraska). But I’ve also found some surprises in internationally-named towns – unplanned evidence of the culture, you might say.

I’ll give you three examples:

JERUSALEM

It’s a tiny crossroads in the heart of Arkansas, where folks tend to raise chickens and hogs – and a beauty queen or two. Indeed, the most famous natives are a couple of identical twins who were crowned Miss Arkansas in succeeding years. Their names, and I couldn’t make this up: Leanne and Lynnanne Derryberry.

Before visiting Jerusalem, I did a little Web surfing, seeking anything I could find about the town. And one discovery stopped me in mid-surf. It was a genealogical reference to an Arkansas farmer who died there around the turn of the twentieth century. His name – and again, I couldn’t make this up: King David Byers.

So that’s what I found in Jerusalem – the grave of King David.

LONDON

This Wisconsin hamlet, not too far from the state capital of Madison, was founded when a new train route ran through the area. Today, the tracks are gone, replaced by a bike trail. Much of the rest of old London is gone, too – the three hotels, the cigar factory, the creamery, the movie house.

Now it’s an unincorporated rural community, but when I visited a few years ago I came across one thing that remained – appropriate to both the town’s origins and the name. At the center of town, on the corner of Main Street and County Route O, was – what else? – a pub.

The London Depot, it was called. And on the matchboxes, it announced simply this: “Warm Beer. Lousy Food. Indoor Pool.”

VERSAILLES

Located less than 30 miles from the city of Paris (each of them resting on either side of Lexington, amid Kentucky’s beautiful Bluegrass region), Versailles is the seat of Woodford County, a bustling little city of some 8,000 people. Driving along Versailles Road (otherwise known as U.S. 60), I passed a number of fast food joints. I expected that. What I didn’t expect was this: an honest-to-goodness castle.

It appeared atop a hill along the busy highway. A dozen turrets. Four corner towers. Twelve-foot walls. No access for the curious. Apparently, a coal magnate built it for his wife in the early 1970s – a 32-room, 10,400-square-foot residence inside the stone walls. But they divorced before it was complete, and – at least by the time I arrived in 2002 – nobody had ever lived there.

So there you have it: I found a pub in London, King David in Jerusalem, and a veritable palace in Versailles. You can find wonders in the small worlds close to home.

APPETITE FOR ADVENTURE

Brad Herzog — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 04:18:00 -0400

Amy and I have enjoyed 12 great years of marriage. Of course, we’ve been married for 16 years… Sorry, just kidding. That’s a joke my dad always tells. Couldn’t help it.

Tomorrow, Amy and I will indeed be celebrating our 16^th wedding anniversary. Our grand plan: Get a sitter and go out to a nice dinner. Yeah, pretty typical. We’ll probably go for seafood – and since a nice dinner out is pretty much a twice-a-year phenomenon for us these days, maybe we’ll even go crazy and order an appetizer of fresh sanddabs or sea scallops or breaded calamari. After all, when you live a stone’s throw from Monterey Bay, the choices are many.

This brings to mind our inaugural RV journey 13 years ago. We covered 48 states and 35,000 miles over 314 days. And we did our best to sample a full helping of the American experience – classic meals in classic places.

We tasted dim sum in San Francisco, green chili in Albuquerque, fresh guacamole in San Antonio, shrimp gumbo in Savannah, crab cakes in Baltimore, and lobster in Maine. We tried the barbecued ribs in Kansas City and the beef pasties in Michigan. And we helped ourselves to the Circus Circus breakfast buffet in Las Vegas. It is one of the absolute joys of the RV experience – the opportunity to seek out local specialties. Or, in the case of Vegas, a cheap and iconic buffet.

I recall that we salivated over the crawfish etouffee in New Orleans. Come to think of it, we loved all of our meals in New Orleans. And, in fact, the finest gastronomic experience I’ve ever had occurred about 60 miles south of the city that year. It was at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Tom’s Place in the town of Empire, Louisiana.

Empire is only a few dozen nautical miles from the end of the Mississippi River, amid a place known as Plaquemines Parish. This is perhaps the most precarious sliver of land in the country –straddling the river, jutting out into the Gulf of Mexico and just waiting for a massive hurricane to hit. In the 1960s, much of the area was completely destroyed twice – by hurricanes Betsy and Camille. Then the residents rebuilt, many of the houses resting on stilts.

It was in the mid-1990s that we arrived, and we found ourselves at Tom’s Place. All that was left above the doorway were the T and the PL. A bad sign? Not hardly. Clearly, this was the kind of place the locals knew well.

For the next hour, we enjoyed oysters on the half shell as big as beanbags, plucked from the water three miles away and smothered in horseradish, cocktail sauce and hot sauce. They were twice as big and tasty and one-fourth as expensive as the oysters we were used to encountering. I swear I’ve never enjoyed food more.

I don’t suppose Tom’s Place is around anymore. Hurricane Katrina came through four years ago, and Empire was in the crosshairs. A wall of water 22 feet high washed over the 17-foot levees and virtually wiped the place clean.

But I’ll never forget those oysters – at an easily overlooked hole-in-the-wall in the so-called Middle of Nowhere. Because that’s where you find the pearls.

ROAD ROYALTY #2

Brad Herzog — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 21:06:00 -0400

Time for another Road Royalty moment. How about a parking spot at Grand Teton National Park:

A FISH STORY

Brad Herzog — Wed, 03 Dec 2008 01:16:00 -0400

The photo below shows a fish – a fish over four stories tall and longer than a Boeing 757. You don’t often come across a swimmer of this… well, scale. But this massive muskie (said to be the world’s largest fiberglass structure) can be found in Hayward, Wisconsin. It’s the Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame.

At a used bookstore not long ago, I found a book called America’s Strangest Museums, and it is essentially a 300-page Bible of the weird and wacky. Frankly, it’s also a great little reference tool for our RV excursions. We don’t plan on visiting all of the places in the pages. Actually, we won’t see 95 percent of them. But it’s good to know that they’re out there. There’s always time for a whimsical detour during a road trip.

I’ve actually been to a few of the attractions listed in the book – the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas, for instance, and the Crayola Hall of Fame in Easton, Pa. But judging by the table of contents, I’d say the ten quirkiest entries are these:

Frog Fantasies Museum (Eureka Springs, Arkansas)
Museum of Questionable Medical Devices (Minneapolis)
Elvis is Alive Museum (Wright City, Missouri)
Museum of Bad Art (Dedham, Massachusetts)
National Museum of Funeral History (Houston)
U.S. National Tick Collection (Statesboro, Georgia)
Barbed Wire Museum (La Crosse, Kansas)
Mustard Museum (Mount Horeb, Wisconsin)
Cockroach Hall of Fame (Plano, Texas)
Dan Quayle Center and Museum (Huntington, Indiana)

As for others I’d like to see, how about the Candy Americana Museum (Lilitz, Pennsylvania). Or the Lunch Box Museum (Columbus, Georgia). Or the Historic Voodoo Museum (New Orleans).

But here’s something interesting: One of the museums celebrated in the book happens to be located in the northern Chicago suburb of Deerfield, Illinois – the place where I spent my first 18 years and where my parents still live. Next time we visit them, I’ll have to add the Tooth Fairy Museum to our schedule. Actually, given my sons’ increasingly toothless smiles, the visit could come just in time.

Anyone else have any quirky museum suggestions?

ROAD ROYALTY

Brad Herzog — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 20:04:00 -0400

Every once in a while, I’m going to fill this space by posting what I call a Road Royalty shot – a photo suggesting that I discovered a location so sublime that it can only mean I am sleeping in a castle on wheels. In this installment, I offer a photograph taken at a campground in southern Colorado, where we enjoyed an exquisite view of Great Sand Dunes National Park:

CHANCE ENCOUNTERS

Brad Herzog — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 23:01:00 -0400

Happy Columbus Day! Does anyone really say that? Interesting, isn’t it? There are some holidays that are just… there. Still, as a man who takes my family on two-month RV expeditions each summer, I can appreciate the act of celebrating exploration. Of course, Columbus pretty much found America by accident. And that notion – good fortune while traveling – is what I want to write about today:

It was exactly 12 years ago on Columbus Day that Amy and I arrived in the tiny hamlet of Joy, Illinois, at the tail end of our original 314-day RV journey. I was writing my first travel memoir, and Joy was the final town and the final chapter. I was hoping for a perfect ending, and for a while I couldn’t find it. Then I spotted a little boy sitting amid the fallen leaves in Joy City Park. It was his seventh birthday, and he had a lot to say, much of it quite hilarious. It turned out to be the perfect conclusion to our journey – during which we rediscovered the joy and optimism of youth.

I’ve since discovered that chance encounters like that happen all the time when you’re traveling at your own pace and on your own terms in a house on wheels. An RV vacation can be as slow and meandering as you wish. And if you happen to stumble upon an unexpected treasure, you can simply stop and appreciate it.

A few years ago, for instance, we were driving through northern Nevada, planning on stopping for a quick lunch break in the city of Elko. Well, it turns out that we happened upon Elko’s annual Art in the Park festival. Ours became an afternoon filled with miniature train rides, balloons, snow cones, a country music crooner, and booth after booth of artists’ offerings. Needless to say, we stayed past lunch.

Over the years, we've also happened upon a midday music-and-burgers celebration in tiny Wakeeney, Kansas… and a Saturday farmer’s market in Missoula, Montana… and a bustling Fall Festival in Corvallis, Oregon (where the music was reggae and the crowd was bound for an Oregon State University home football game). So if you time it right – and if you leave yourself open to chance – you might find yourself in a city enjoying a temporary surge of energy.

Or, sometimes, you come upon a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Last summer, we planned on simply stopping for an early dinner in the little hamlet of Faith, South Dakota (which happens to be one of the towns I wrote about in that first book). But Faith, ironically, is where Sue – the largest complete T-Rex skeleton – was discovered nearly 15 years ago. The Field Museum in Chicago bought her for about eight million bucks, so she can usually be found in the Windy City. But not during the summer of 2008.

It turns out that Sue was summering in Faith, on temporary display at the school gymnasium. So it was another happy meeting of place and time – and by that I don’t mean the prehistoric era.

A DAM SITE

GoRving Admin — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 17:38:00 -0400

For a good time, call 866-730-9097. By that I mean, for a good laugh. That’s the number for Vegas.com at Hoover Dam, and if your sense of humor is juvenile enough, it sure sounds like the guy is swearing a blue streak: “Prices for the DAM tour are $30 per person. DAM tour tickets must be purchased in person. Children under the age of eight are not permitted on the DAM tour…”

Our stop at Hoover Dam yesterday was a totally spontaneous decision. We were planning on spending the night in Henderson, Nevada, just south of Las Vegas, and the big dam was just a half-hour away. The kids are under eight, so we didn’t take the tour. But just seeing a piece of construction that required more masonry that the Great Pyramid. Well, that’s impressive…

I was thinking that there are probably four examples of iconic American construction – the Empire State Building, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Gateway Arch and Hoover Dam. I’d seen the first three; now I can cross the latter off the list.

Really, though, the most spectacular moment of the day occurred a few hours earlier, as we drove south from Utah toward Nevada and found ourselves crossing a corner of Arizona for a couple-dozen miles – a breathtaking drive between red-rock mountains and alongside a river that looked exactly like the chocolate stream in the Wonka factory. The kids were looking out the window as we drove (they sit buckled into a couch) and they let out a simultaneous, “WHOA!”

I can’t put it better than that.

Here’s a DAM photo:

OB-LA-DI, OB-LA-DA

GoRving Admin — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 11:37:00 -0400

You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a ventriloquist sing “God Bless America” – until you’ve seen a crowd of people stand, face the flag and sing along with a wooden dummy.

Welcome to the Winnebago-Itasca Travelers (WIT) Grand National Rally, where we spent two nights in an Aaron Copland composition come to life.

They come from all over to this motorhome mecca – some 1,400 Winnebagos and Itascas and several thousand travelers have converged on Forest City, Iowa, home to all things Winnebagish. And yes, a good many of the participants are… of a certain age. But you know what? It’s simply well-run fun: a tethered hot air balloon ride, a mini roller coaster for kids, a barbershop quartet, a bowling tournament, a Dixieland jazz band on wheels, a no-frills restaurant selling delicious vanilla malts. What’s not to like?

“National Explore America Family to stop at rally,” shouted a paragraph from the program. But there aren’t many better ways to explore all things American than by roaming the grounds of an RV gathering. It’s one of those fascinating subculture immersions that becomes a people-watcher’s paradise. It’s like going to the Daytona 500 or the Westminster Dog Show. Like traveling to Sturgis on a Harley or Cheyenne on an 1,800-pound bull. The only difference is the people here don’t need hotel rooms.

“Rock’n Reunion” is the theme at this year’s rally. So several RVs are decked out in, say, fuzzy dice or cardboard cutouts of Elvis Presley. (Monday night’s entertainment was a three-person band known as New Odyssey, which consists of three guys playing 30 different instruments and covering the widest range of musical styles imaginable – everything from Louis Armstrong to Johnny Cash to the Doobie Brothers. They’re really talented, except I could have sworn I heard the wrong words to Ob-la-di Ob-la-da during a Beatles medley. I’m pretty sure Desmond doesn’t stay at home and do his pretty face.)

This week, the GNR, as they call it, is like a meeting of the tribes. Various regional WIT clubs are represented, adorned with guileless names. The Kansas Heartland Winnies (“Kansas: Harvesting peace from the seeds of justice,” declared a banner. I’m still trying to figure out that that means). The Rushmore Winnies. The Winnehahas from Minnesota. The Winnie Poo chapter from Peoria, Illinois. A Texas contingent that includes the Alamo Winnies, Red River Wrangers and Astrobagos.

With all the proud regional representations, it feels like a trip to the Summer Olympics, only instead of basketball and marathons it’s bingo and Medicare seminars. Or talks about railroad road crossing safety or awning care and maintenance. I spoke to a large group of people about my cross-country journeys and my travel memoirs, selling some books afterward. Whom did I follow? A guy talking about how to check the air in your tires. I think his crowd was bigger.

Strolling among the sea of RVs, you can get a sense of the diversity of the RV culture – I saw signs announcing the presence of everything from a singles WIT club to a military club (MILWITS) to an internet club (NETWITS). But that’s just it, isn’t it? Everybody likes to belong – whether you drive a Corvette or collect salt shakers or breed cats or participate in fantasy football.

So if you want to pop in from Michigan and put up some homemade versions of the old read-as-you-drive Burma Shave signs (“Soap may do… for lads with fuzz… but sir you ain’t… the kid you wuz.”), then who’s going to stop you? If you want to drive your house on wheels from Florida to Forest City, put up a WINNIE-GATORS sign and surround your Winnebago Chieftan with pink flamingoes (one of them animatronic)… well, why not?

I’ve never been much of a joiner in my life. Sometimes I think I’ve been missing out. So who’s the dummy now?