Why do so many blues songs start out with “Woke up this mornin?”

If I was singing a blues song about this day, it would something like this:

Woke up this morning
Took my dog for a run
Got attacked by some dogs
They were two mean Son of a Guns.

That morning I woke up feeling like I had slept for two weeks. Traveling on the road, I would venture, takes a bit more out of you than you initially realize. Especially when you are like me and want to see EVERYTHING. It was a conscientious decision to stay in Clarksdale a few nights, to give us some time to slow down and relax, and I think it was a smart one.

The first thing on my agenda for the day was to go for a nice long, unrushed jog with Linus while Earl slept in.  I’ve been taking him for one almost every single morning, but most days it’s just for 25 or so minutes, before I have to get back, get showered up and on the road.  Since we were mainly in Clarksdale for the nightlife, I was afforded a slow, lazy morning.  So a 50-minute enjoyable run it was!

Well, enjoyable it wasn’t.  At least, the last part.  We did an out-and-back on a farm road going behind Hopson Plantation, which is the plantation the Shack Up Inn is located on.  On my way out it was wonderful- gorgeous, peaceful, relaxing, I was feeling good jogging which is amazing considering the amounts of fattening foods I have been scarfing lately.   On the way back in, on a dirt road surrounded by cotton fields, two hound dogs bolt out from behind this run down looking house, cross over the street to us and go right for Linus, who was leashed.  It happened so suddenly, and then one of them was on his neck with his teeth in him!  So without thinking I just acted to protect him.  I yelled in a really loud, authorative voice, hoping to startle the dogs and get the attention of their owner, “HEY! STOP!” and then when the dog wasn’t letting go of his neck, I kicked the dog square in the stomach.  It yelped and let go, but they were still circling us and growling with teeth bared.  One of them was jumping at my arm, trying to bite my wrist where I was holding the leash, and the other one was still going for Linus.  So I kicked the one going for Linus again, this time right his face (the mouth).  I didn’t hold back, I really let him have it.  I felt horrible and didn’t want to hurt the dog OR piss off any shotgun-wielding owners, but they came across the street, unleashed and attacked us, so I figured self-defense was my perogative.  Linus was snarling and trying to bite back, but they must have each had 30 lbs on the guy, plus he is at a major handicap without any teeth, so I really didn’t think he could hold his own in a fight.

After much screaming and defensive posturing (kicking) on my part, the dogs backed down a bit to the point where they weren’t right on top of us.  They still followed right hehind us growling and like they were going to attack at any second down the road.  This finally let up when I picked up a couple rocks and threw them at them.  It was VERY scary and my heart was racing a million miles a minute.  Talk about an adrenaline rush.  Stupid hick mangy mutt dogs.  Those things were ugly and MEAN.  When I got back to the hotel I was pretty shaken up for a while, and Earl inspected Linus who fortunately didn’t have any skin broken.

It took me a bit to calm down, but finally I did enough to shower up and we headed out to explore the plantation.

I love the way they decorated with cotton framing the front wall of the function hall. There happened to be a family hanging out on the porch drinking lemonaide, who we were introduced to with the help of our certified people magnet.  They had a cute little girl tottering around who of course wanted to meet the “puppy.”  Linus much prefers the attentions of sweet southern girls than those of mean ole hick hound dogs.    The mother told us how this plantation had been in her family for four generations.

Earl and I walked Linus over to the Sunflower River, which one of the guys informed me had catfish swimming in it’s muddy depths that were “THISSSSS BIIIIIG” as he spread his arms out extra-wide.

We trundled down off the road to the riverbank to explore, and while didn’t see any catfish in the lazy, hazy river, we did spy an obviously-lived in tent, hidden up under the bridge overpass. Homeless person? Back-to-nature-freak? Giant catfish hunter?

They were clearly at home, so rather than stick around and wait for Tent-Dweller to come down and beat my ass for my second butt-kicking of the day, we decided to hightail it out of there. We did quietly and stealthily snap one shot of puppy looking cute by the riverbed:

And then opted for a nice and safe game of “hunting” on Shack-up Inn grounds.

Next we hopped in the car to seek out some blues heritage. First we went in Cathead, which is a folk store and heritage center. Inside we bought a bunch of blues CDs- everything from the M for Mississippi Soundtrack to a Leadbelly album to some Delta Blues compilations and some Robert Johnson stuff. We could have spent hours in Cathead alone poking around and spent hundreds of dollars on music, it was just that damn cool. I feel like we got out with a good sampling and the staff was so friendly and helpful.

Outside of Cathead, this gentleman was strumming on the guitar and singing a couple sad songs. Little did I know we would encounter him again later in our travels. It was to be good karma that I gave him a big tip!

Next it was time for, what else, BBQ!  I had to convince Earl not to have more tamales and instead try Abes BBQ at the Crossroads.  How did I convince him? Well, I read him this paragraph describing Abes, from my beloved Roadfood book:

Abe’s has been sung about in blues songs and written about in Faulknerian novels set in the Mississippi Delta; and to the traveling foodie, it is a must-eat destination. Its legend goes back to 1924 when Abe Davis opened a snack stall on the street in Clarksdale. Today at the famous crossroads of Highways 61 and 49, Abe’s grandson Pat Davis maintains the name and the high-quality cooking, which includes thin-sliced, crisp-edged barbecued pork as well as that incongruous Mississippi Delta specialty, the hot tamale.
Abe’s barbecue is Boston Butt that is first cooked over pecan wood, then allowed to cool overnight, then sliced, then heated again on the griddle when it is ordered. While it is getting heated, the pork gets hacked into a rugged hash. The process results in meat with lots of juicy buzz in its pale inside fibers and plenty of crusty parts where it has fried on the hot iron of the grill. You can have it on a platter or in a sandwich, which is available in two sizes – normal and “Big Abe.” We love the latter, which is twice the amount of pork heaped into a double-decker bun. This is close enough to Memphis that it is served city-style, i.e. with the slaw inside the bun.
One of the things that makes these sandwiches so especially delicious is the sauce, which is dark red, tangy, with the resonance of pepper and spice, a sublime companion for the meat.

Wouldn’t YOU be salivating at that point, too? Cuddos, Roadfood.
Happy to report, Abes lived up to the above description, and we devoured with glee.

Afterwards we toured the Delta Blues Museum, which made me want to buy a ton more of music! It was fascinating and had an overwhelming amount of info. I feel like I need to take a course in blues/music history and then come back to Clarksdale simply to have more background knowledge and appreciate everything we’re seeing firsthand all the more. One thing I did recognize is the R.L. Burnside’s grandson, Cedric Burnside, was a frequent headliner at our hotel. But so much on the blues-scene is still happening in the Mississippi Delta, I am sure a ton of other connections like that were unfortunately over my head.
Inspired by the Blues Museum’s life-sized replica of Muddy Water’s home, we hopped in the Jeep and set off to find his birthplace, which was due north from Clarksdale. Okay, okay. I have to admit, we weren’t actually looking for THAT, we were looking for “a place to see the Mississippi” and on our way to Friar’s Point we were lost and happened to drive by this sign while making a u-turn:

How cool is it while just lost and ambling about you can stumble into something as notable as this? Only in the Mississippi Delta! It was absolutely serene at Muddy Water’s birthplace:

I tried to get a bit arty taking photos of the surrounding cotton fields.

The cotton really was gorgeous, I could sit there all day and take pictures of it. Maybe it’s because I’m not used to it, but it really was neat seeing something so very soft and fluffy growing out of this hard and prickly plant.
I still wanted to see the Mississippi River, so we decided to drive (illegally? who knows?) up on the levys. Okay, so it wasn’t TECHNICALLY illegal, I guess… it was marked with a sign that said, “Not An Official Road.” Does that mean it was closed to the public? Well, there was no one around to stop us.

Besides, I figured if we got stopped, I could just act like a clueless tourist idiot from Connecticut, and they would cut my dumb Yankee self some slack. As I read in one of my Blues-Highway guidebooks, southerns don’t so much look down on Yankees as much as they pity you, for being Yankee is a fact of life you can neither help nor change.

Down by the river it was gorgeous and woodsy, but we did see a bunch of razor-wire fencing, some NO TRESPASSING notices and got one of those hair-on-your-neck raising kind of vibes, so we didn’t stick around very long at all. Last thing I needed was to get in another fight for the day! (Doesn’t it feel like I was just looking for trouble all day or what?! shesh!)
Back in Clarksburg we were just in time to catch the opening act at the Ground Zero Blues Club. Ground Zero is partially owned by Morgan Freeman, whom I love and was secretly hoping to see all evening.
Ground Zero’s opening act was Daddy Rich, although they let this gentleman who was hanging around sing a couple songs. His name was Razorblade, and he was AWESOME!!! Daddy Rich was great, too, but this Razorblade guy had one of the most soulful, rich voices I have ever heard. He just killed it.

Now at this point I was a bunch of beers in and being my friendly buzzed-drunken self, I exclaimed “Oh! We saw you playing outside of Cathead” to the gentleman standing next to me ordering a beer. Well… haha. He was incredibly nice and instantly engaged me in a conversation. The problem was, I COULD NOT UNDERSTAND A SINGLE WORD HE SAID. I mean it. It was seriously like “garblegarblegarblegarblegarblegarblegarblegarbleGARBLEgarble.” Umm… As a bailout resort since I had no clue what he said, I offered to buy him a beer and then told the bartender “I would like to buy this gentleman a drink!” I don’t even know if wanted a beer based on his garble-y response, but thankfully the bartender took care of that. The only thing I actually understood that this guy said, during the WHOLE conversation which lasted about, oh, six minutes, was that he had been to San Francisco once, and it was expensive. Mostly I just smiled and nodded and tried not to look panicked that I had no idea what he was saying.
The funny thing is that then the band called my new friend onto the stage to sing some songs with them! Apparently he is a blues legend in town, and his name is Tator. Tator also was great up there. Still mainly unintelligible, however I am coming to think that being partially unintelligible is a key component of the blues.

In the background of this photo you can also see local blues legend Stan Street of Hambone on the harmonica. It was really cool how these local guys were all hanging around at Ground Zero and could walk up and play. They all seemed so supportive of each other, too and just excited to hear the music. It was a great vibe. Maybe we just lucked out on a good night?
Later we bought both Razorblade and Tator’s CDs. Razorblade sat and talked with us for a while, and Earl ended up getting volunteered to help him set up a website. So when we get to California, Earl has a fun music-related project. This guy is just so damn good, he needs a freaking website!! Earl will be doing him and the world a service!

This morning, me with a bit of a hangover, we said Au-revoir to our lovely little shack in the Delta and delved further south to explore Greenville, Greenwood and Vicksburg.  Tonight we’re staying in a lovely Southern Antebellum mansion which happily allows well-behaved small dogs (the owner herself has a Jack Russell).  I’ll post up more photos and details on today’s adventure soon, but right now I have a snoozing dog and boyfriend to join!

We left Memphis and headed towards the “birthplaces of the Blues,” Clarksdale, Mississippi.  It was a gorgeous day out and the first thing of note which we saw was miles and miles of cotton fields laying out before us in the fertile Mississippi soil.

We also saw some original Mississippi billboards. This looks like something that would be a parody of a Mississippi billboard, not an actual one!

Our accommodations for the next two nights were to be at the Shack Up Inn, a unique Clarksdale offering where you stay in an individual sharecropper shack.  Take a look at the website, it looks pretty “fun” in a unique way, right?  Well, I knew we were in for something *interesting.*  At the very least, I was happy to hear they took dogs, and after our problems finding a place to stay in Memphis and the resulting sketchy Red Roof Inn, I was relieved to find anything!

We pulled in to a lot with what looked to be a bunch of old abandoned buildings on it. Here was the lobby:

The Lobby also has a Juke Joint inside, home to many live blues concerts. How convenient, you can just stumble on over to your shack afterwards!

At this point, Earl was giving me the “where exactly did you book us?!” look of exasperation, however once we checked in and were shown to our shack, we learned we had nothing to fear.

Here was our personal shack, which I might add was very cute and cozy inside, with a big comfy bed and surprisingly nice private bath:

And some of the other shacks on the property.

A bit worn out, the very first thing I did upon arrival was snuggle into the quilted bed and take a nap with puppy.

The Shack Up Inn was almost completely full when we booked, however it felt rather isolated and very peaceful. Earl and I were able to sit in the swing on our porch swilling a couple beers, gently swinging in the cool Mississippi night without seeing any other guests. Even when exploring the property and plantation grounds we hardly saw anyone.
The view from our porch:

After resting up a bit, we moseyed on to downtown Clarksdale for some chowhounding and site-seeing. First thing we saw was the “Crossroads” of highway 61 and Highway 49. This is where blues legend Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for guitar and blues mastery.

We then went to satisfy our cravings for southern fare at Hicks, where Eugene Hicks and his wife Betty have been making tamales for 40 years. Walking out of the car, we were bummed to see the restaurant was open only for drive-thru. Well, some guy who was taking out the garbage overheard our conversation and approached us. “Why come on over, I’ll let you guys in,” he drawled. It turned out to Eugene Hicks himself! He unlocked the empty restaurant and sent a waitress to help us.
We split an order of some of the best tamales I’ve ever had. Earl had the tips and I had the ribs. DEEEELISH.

The tamales were just so darn good, we got another half dozen for dessert. They were just spicy, meaty, and sooOO flavorful. We didn’t feel piggish doing so, after all, Bill Clinton and his entourage famously scarfed 35 dozen of the husked-wrapped delicacies. We left an offensively large tip before waddling out as a thank-you for opening the restaurant just for us. The waitress was beside herself for us to come back the following day, which Earl threatened he just might do (if Earl had his way our diet would now consist solely of Hicks tamales for breakfast, lunch and dinner).

That evening we were a little beat and just hung around our shack having a low-key night.

The first thing we did this morning (after taking Linus on a run) was hustle over to the Peabody Hotel to watch the duck march.  Every morning the ducks, who live in their own suite in the hotel, ride their very own elevator down to the lobby where they march across a red carpet and into the hotel’s fountain.  Cute!  The story of how the ducks became tradition at the hotel is rather amusing. Apparently the general manager of the hotel and his friend had gotten back from a hunting trip, and drunk on Jack Daniel’s they decided it would be funny to leave their live decoy ducks overnight in the fountain. Well, the next morning hotel guests loved the ducks so much that they became tradition and the Peabody has had them ever since!

The Peabody itself was magnificent.  It had this grand beveled wood ceiling with stained glass cutouts that was absolutely striking.  We arrived in the lobby at 10:45 and people were already lining up to see the ducks.  We secured a spot on the red carpet, Earl went to procure coffees and I awaited word from the Duckmaster (yes, that is his title) that the ceremony was about to begin.

After a brief introduction about the hotel and duck history, the Duckmaster fielded a few questions and then departed to fetch his feathered friends from their suite.

Here they come!

And there they go! Those little buggers were surprisingly speedy. More of a Duck Dash than Duck March.

Splashing around in the fountain, where they will remain until 5:00pm:

From the Peabody we stopped for pulled pork sandwiches for lunch and then headed to the Civil Rights Museum.

The Civil Rights Museum is located at the Lorraine Motel, where Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated.

Touring the Civil Rights Museum has been the highlight of our trip thus far.  I found it fascinating, inspiring, and extremely interesting.  I could have spent all day there, slowly pouring over each and every exhibit.  My favorite displays were the burned out Freedom Riders bus and also the Memphis Sanitation Worker “I AM A MAN” strike Mock-up.  They were just so powerful.  During the tour, I found myself with a lump in my throat while sitting on the Rosa Park’s mock-up bus and listening to a broadcast of Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech and watching listening crowds roar at the Lincoln Memorial.  It almost seems that today, as Americans face yet a period of divisiveness and strife, it is particularly relevant to look back and examine the lessons of our past.  Perhaps because the current dire state facing our nation, the entire experience was extremely poignant.

The final exhibit in the main museum, room 306 where Dr. Martin Luther King was shot, was particularly chilling.  The room was untouched, exactly as he had left it in his final hours on that fateful day in April.  You could look across the street to the knoll where the shooters had crouched.  Doing so sent a rush of emotion through me, and I remained in somewhat of a hush for the rest of the afternoon.

Unfortunately, because we are traveling a corgi who needs fresh air and walks and exercise and attention, I had to speed through the final exhibits a bit faster than I would have liked.  We skipped the entire second half of the museum, which covers from 1970s-present.  The exhibits we saw did not cover many civil rights other than the struggles of African Americans.  I’m interested to know if womens’ rights and gay rights were covered in the second half.  I guess this leaves something to do for the next time I come back to Memphis.

Highly, highly, HIGHLY recommend this tour to anyone passing through Memphis.  Whether or not your a history buff, an American, a minority or even an adult, it would be interesting and beneficial to all.

After the Civil Rights Museum we headed over to Interstate Barbecue for some noshing. Earl enjoyed the beef ribs and I scarfed the sampler platter, which gives you pork ribs, beef ribs, brisket, pulled pork, and a spicy sausage.  The pulled port was my favorite BY FAR.  It was great, although last night’s Blue’s City meal, IMO, has yet to be topped…even by this.

Then, perhaps moved by the civil rights museum, we decided that the spirit of Equality for All (!!!) entitled little buddy to a rib of his very own.

Just look at that tongue:

DO WANT:

Tomorrow we’re leaving Memphis and heading south to Mississippi.  As mentioned before, here the pace of our journey stays slow.  We have three days to amble about Ole Miss, leaving just enough time to make it to New Orleans to meet up with some friends for Halloween.

Catching up on a few old photos from our last travel day, Iowa City to Memphis.

In Amish Country, Iowa:

Seeing how cheese (and cheese curds!) are made.  This one was foggy because the windows were steamy:

Finally found some cheese curds.  So fresh, they squeaked (finally!)

Attack!!

We stopped for a roadside picnic off the highway towards Missouri. Very relaxing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corn and under a gorgeous blue sky. It was about 65* and perfect.

After much driving through Missouri (which was completely boring btw- worse than I-80 across Pennslyvania), we made it to Cape Girardeau for the night.

Welcome to Memphis, where everything is a hustle.  You are a tourist sucker, and my being friendly to you is merely a slick hustle.  Well, maybe not *quite* that pronounced, but that feeling certainly permeates beneath the surface of every single interaction at the bar and on the street.

Pardon the drunken ramblings above, we just got back from an evening on Beale Street, which was fun but you DO feel a bit like a fresh fish out on display for all the panhandlers and con artists.  Every single person that approached us was looking for some sort of handout or deal.  Lost?  Oh, let me help you! And, why, I just happen to have a map for your use.  And by the way, I am in charge of a homeless outreach program and we have five men who need beds tonight and we just happen to be $20 short, can you help us?

This same scenario happened about 4 times this evening.  The panhandlers were extremely aggressive compared to NYC.  The same guys would come up to you four or five times a night, even trot along with you, until you say no twice or more.  They would also come in the bars and restaurants, acting like patrons then going after the customers.  I saw some of the bartenders kick them out, but not all.  Maybe southern tourists are just more naive than Manhattan, because these people would not get very far in NYC.  At least in New York most panhandlers have a spiel (dance, sing, preach) instead of just harassing everyone for money.

We also are staying in a rather sketchy Red Roof Inn on the outskirts of town which is sandwiched in between two highway on-ramps .  The kind of place where a bunch of big floodlights face IN at the hotel, not out.  Given that we have lots of our worldly possessions packed to the brim in the Jeep, this is somewhat disconcerting.  We were woken up around 3:00am by some guests repeatedly honking their lowered, lime-green Honda Accord in the parking lot again and again.  Why were they honking?! Who knows.  The sheets and pillows are also complete itchy crap, but I guess at $49.99 a night and they allowed dogs, what was I expecting?!  I just hope our car hasn’t been ripped off when I go outside for a jog with Linus in a few minutes.

Regardless of the above, Memphis has still been cool and a fun place to visit.  We saw Graceland yesterday, which was nothing short of AWESOME!!! and then scarfed on some of the best ribs and chili I’ve ever had.  And the blues on Beale Street were fantastic.  So I guess Memphis, like the blues, needs the gritty to give it a bit of an edge.

We attempted to eat at the Rendezvous however it is closed Sunday and Mondays.  So our dinner last night was at second-choice Blues City, where we did get to see an awesome show of a Johnny Cash-eque band, Gary Hardy and the Memphis 2.

Dinner, despite it being our second-choice, was knock-yer-socks off good.  I started with the chili, Earl the spicy gumbo, and we both had the ribs (me: half, Earl: full).  The chili was incredible, and then when the ribs came, I was still enjoying my chili, but I was wondering if something was suddenly wrong with Earl.  He had stopped talking, COMPLETELY.  It was as if his sole purpose of existence was to scarf those ribs.  He barely came up for air.  Once I dug into mine, I understood.  All you had to do was pick up the bone and they would fall off.  So succulent, tender, and sweet.  The best ribs I have ever tasted, period.  When Earl was finished, he had to walk outside and call his best friend and tell him about the ribs! haha.

After dinner we walked around Beale Street, where you can stroll with your beers (how revolutionary!) and just poked into the better clubs with the best-sounding bands.  This one hole-in-the-wall joint was really rocking, and we stayed there for the rest of the night, enjoying the harmonica and blue-sy riffs of the Dr. Feelgood Potts Band.  They were awesome and played everything from “You Aint Nothin but a Hound Dog” to “Johnny B Goode” to his own music, which he was selling CDs of.  My favorite had to be the “My In-Laws (Ain’t Nothin‘ But Outlaws)” song, which is funny because my brother-in-law calls my parents “The Outlaws.”  Haha.  I am going to have to give him a copy of the CD (yes, we bought it, these guys were that darn good!).

Finally, because no roadtrip report would be complete without a picture of Linus, here you go!  We took him to Riverside Park yesterday on the Mississippi for a rousing game of fetch.  We actually can’t find the ball we bought him at the Field of Dreams (it is SOMEWHERE in the car, that thing is just so packed it’s like the Bermuda Triangle of stuff), so we’ve been playing fetch with an apple.

Today we’re heading to the Peabody in a bit to catch the ducks martching, then hunting for more BBQ, catching the Civil Rights Museum and Sun Studios, and finally poking around for more blues tonight.  Those ribs were so good last night, man… it’s going to be tempting to just go back and have the same thing all over again!!

As we penetrate the south, the pace of our travels has slowed to mirror the relaxed mentality of the region.  We allow ourselves to laze in bed in the mornings and while away afternoons strolling with Linus alongside the Mississippi.

Yesterday found us in historic Port Cape Girardeau, Missouri, where last night we feasted on alligator tails and some of the thickest fried catfish I’ve ever encountered.  Linus relishes in his role as the world’s most effective people-magnet, a traveling-perk the likes of I’ve never enjoyed before.  It’s been a surprisingly effective way to meet locals and get recommendations for places to dine and stay for the night.  Last night we learned about a local Cajun joint, where an 18-wheel rig driver informed us, “in alla mah drivin over the whole south, I aint never had none better.”  Apparently the Chef was displaced after his restaurant flooded during Katrina, and afterwards headed north up the Mississippi, landing in Cape Girardeau.  The food was flavorful, the place a little smokey, and live blues were stomping.  The perfect rejuvenation for two weary travelers from Iowa City.

While people are fawning over Linus and chatting to us, they inevitably realize we are from, as everyone puts it “outta state,” we’re subject to intense curiosity, frequent raised eyebrows, and the occasional sales pitch, from everything from a tow-trailer for my Jeep to pot to unidentified items “that could spice up yer night, I got em right here in mah pocket.”  Thus far, I’ve politely declined all offers.

Today finds us taking siesta here in Blytheville, Arkansas as we pause to get the oil changed on the Jeep.  We have driven over 1500 miles since leaving Manhattan.  The Jeep, while undoubtably a worthy steed, still could use a little TLC as we expect him to carry us another threefold as our journey continues through the south then turns north to Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Nevada and finally home to San Fransisco.

Soon we depart for Memphis for two nights of hunting for more Blues and Barbecue.  I’m a little frustrated as I have yet to find a dog-friendly bed and breakfast in Memphis.  To be honest it’s been the hardest time I’ve had finding lodging on the trip.  All of the dog-friendly accommodations seem to be way far off Beale Street and away from downtown and also of the dive-ier variety.  Perhaps I’m still a little crestfallen from our four-legged travel companion getting us rejected from The Peabody.  Regardless, we’re still going to go and watch those ducks march from the roof, across the red carpet in the lobby, and plop into the fountain in the front!  Linus most likely will not accompany us for that particular activity as one of his favorite pastime is chasing ducks and seagulls.

Today we woke up on the farm and headed across the bottom of Wisconsin.  This appeared to be a short distance on the map, but let me tell you it took FOREVER!!!  We took a “rural route highway” which topped out at 50mph on some stretches but hit many small towns and school districts where the speed limit was 25.  Unfortunately Earl happened to be driving this particular stretch, so we actually stayed within reasonable limits.  Blegh!!

In the morning I took Linus around the farm, let him chase some barn cats, and meet the horses.

While driving across Wisconsin, put the brakes on in Burlington (home of the Burlington Coat Factory) for this dive-y looking joint called Fred’s which boasted in big, bright signs “HOME OF THE WORLD’S BEST BURGERS!”  We literally U-turned and went to evaluate this claim.

While walking across the street, Earl and I had a semi-argument regarding the veracity of Fred’s bold statement.  “Yeah right,” I told him.  “No way the best burgers could be here in the middle of freaking nowhere.”

“Give them a chance,” he retorted.  “At least the meat will be super fresh, it probably comes from right nearby and is never frozen.” Well, lo and behold, he was right.  Fred’s was not only COMPLETELY PACKED and we barely had room to sit at the bar (where did all these people come from in this seemingly deserted farm town?!), but the burgers were amazing.   What a great find.  Earl had grilled ham, cheddar, pepper and onions on his burger and I opted for a mushroom, onion, swiss.  I give you the Fred’s burger:

Another chowhound item we were hunting for today was Wisconsin Cheese Curds.  It is very possible that I am actually addicted to cheese curds.  I literally tell Earl that anytime he wants to go home and visit his family I am game because I know we will be in Wisconsin which means I’ll have a chance to get my paws on some nummy cheeeese curds.  Those things are freaking amazing.  They have to be eaten the very day they are made or else they lose their freshness and squeak.  Unfortunately today we stopped for curds in two places, but neither were fresh enough to squeak.  It was a cheese curd failure.

It’s okay we didn’t find any today, however, because I actually have a back-up plan for a cheese factory here in Iowa which is Kalona, on our way south tomorrow.  Phew!  The vacation is SAVED.

Our next stop was the Fenelon Place Elevator which was in Dubuque, IA.  Dubuque was a very cool town which was filled with art galleries and coffee shops.  The Elevator, the world’s shortest and steepest scenic railroad, was a bit different than I was expected.

Earl’s words, upon arrival: “You drove us all that way out of our way for this?”

Ha! So, it was a bit different than the guide books described it, but I thought it was still pretty neat.  Besides, what were we really expecting… the world’s steepest railroad in IOWA? As my friend Matt pointed out at our going away party… something about that just isn’t right.  Linus at least had a good time.

And at $4 total for us (that’s $2 per adult round trip) it was not only budget friendly but offered a great view from the top of the city of Dubuque.

From Dubuque we headed to Dyersville to see the Field of Dreams. I was expecting a tourist trap, but this off-the-highway cornfield baseball diamond was rather peaceful, not-built up, and surprisingly serene.  I wish it hadn’t been raining and getting late, because we would have stayed and played ball longer.

If you build it, a corgi will come… and play fetch.

Finally we headed to meet up with two of Earl’s very good friends from college, who are going to graduate school and med school at the University of Iowa in Iowa City. Here we stopped for the night. Linus made friends with their beyond adorable and completely personable Scotty, Max.

Max is a complete sweetheart. He is two years old and just an awesome dog.  Max not only stole our hearts, but he and Linus had lots of fun playing together and even gave each other kisses!

Tomorrow we are going out to breakfast with Kate and Brennan and then traveling south towards Memphis, a 9-hour drive. If that gets to be too much, we’ll most likely spend the night in St. Louis.

Thursday we woke up on the lovely campus of Notre Dame and took a stroll around South Bend.  We stopped by the Stadium first, and while it was closed we were able to poke around and see the Heisman Trophy winners and also the coaches hall of fame.

We lunched in South Bend at Tippecanoe Place, in the old Studebaker family mansion.

Following lunch we headed towards Chicago on the Industrial Highway. Passing several steel mills, we stopped for a hike at the Indiana Dunes.  The dunes were gorgeous and probably the highlight of the trip thus far.  We actually hiked to the top of one and took at 20 minute nap, it was so peaceful and calm up there!

One quick way to tucker out Linus is having him do laps up and down the dunes.

The view from the top of the dunes was absolutely gorgeous.

Linus was super cute and let us bury him in the sand.  One “stay” command and he wasn’t even trying to get out.  It was hilarious.

Once the sun was getting lower in the sky, we headed to Chicago to see The Bean and also grab some lunch.

Dogs aren’t allowed in Millenium Park, as we were informed by a polite security guard.  I sweet-talked him into letting us take one quick photo and then made haste for Mr. Beef.

Mr. Beef was AMAZING and if you are in Chicago I implore you to go and order a “hot and juicy beef.”  Deelish!

Then it was due north for Earl’s parent’s farm in Kansasville, Wisconsin.  We had no internet there so sorry for the delay in a post.

Today found us in Wisconsin, Dubuque, Iowa, Dyersville and Iowa City.  I will post up some photos shortly.

Today we drove past Akron, Ohio and stopped for lunch in Barberton, where surprisingly the special is Barberton Chicken.  Al’s Corner was a great chowhound find filled with friendly locals.

It made for a plate-licking meal which kept us full all the way to South Bend, where we are crashing for the night.

Tomorrow we’re walking around the campus of Notre Dame, hiking the Indiana Lakeshore Dunes, and then heading through Chicago to Earl’s parents in Wisconsin.  If time allows we may explore Chicago (I’ve been wanting to see The Bean), however it depends on how long it takes us to get up and going tomorrow morning.  Today after we both worked out, played with dog, packed up etc we weren’t driving until 11:00! aye   This is a slow moving roadtip.

As for right now, we are off to drink some beers at some college bars!

If you are looking for some easy procrastination or just bored, this game is very simple to play and really fun.  I was addicted to it the other night when I should have been packing.  I rue the day Earl showed it to me because now I am obsessed with beating the hardest level.  Haven’t quite gotten there yet, but I am SOOO CLOSE, aggh!  Since we will be traveling for the next few weeks, I shant not have time for computer games, so here I pass it along to you.  If anyone beats the hardest level, please tell me how you did it!!