Oh BOYsee

Oh boy, another  State Capitol

On my list of "5000 places to visit before I get too old, too tired, or too responsible with my money" I can tell you, with absolute authority, you would not have found Boise. One of the compelling reasons for that would be that I'd never even heard of Boise until last year. Another reason could be that, since hearing of the capital of Idaho, the anticipation of a first hand experience failed to conjure up sufficient excitement to actually make me plan a trip. But when some friends planned to visit Boise for a weekend away, and invited us along, I felt that a travel opportunity was knocking and since I'm a sucker for every travel adventure, I opened that door and we found ourselves travelling across Idaho to the capital of our Gem State.

It stands for Experimental Breeder Reactor

Boise (pronounced BOY-see - I know, its looks like a French word but it's pronounced American style) is four and a half hours west of Idaho Falls. We managed to take the 'scenic route', actually an exquisite scenic detour, that doubled the journey time but allowed us to enjoy many interesting side excursions, scenic views and we threw in a few mountain passes just for fun. As we headed out of Idaho Falls we stopped at the EBR1, the first nuclear power plant to generate electricity. It made history by illuminating the nearby town of Arco in 1951. What they neglect to tell you is that, in 1951, it only took four 200-watt light bulbs to illuminate the town. Today the town has grown somewhat, and it now takes 6 odd light bulbs to set the town a-glow. (Note: Arco is still not on my list of 5000 places to visit)

At this scenic overlook we bumped into a Capetonian

We headed north towards Sun Valley, the exclusive ski resort town and stopped for lunch at Sun Valley Brewing which is actually in Hailey. It's interesting to see the affluence in this area with the idyllic lodges, private planes and elite shopping and dining, all reserved for a privilaged handful of people that I doubt reside in Idaho for more than a couple of weeks per year. We drove through the Alexander Ross Pass - I find it's always a treat to take any mountain pass and this one, through the Sawtooth Mountains, did not disappoint. We continued through the uninteresting towns of Stanley and Idaho City (man, there are some seriously dull one-horse towns in Idaho) and finally arrived in Boise in the early evening. Although we could have done the journey in half the time I found our meander through the Sawtooth Mountains and 2 National Forests to be utterly enjoyable and not at all regrettable, even though we drove behind a novice motorcyclist, who took each of the hundred or so horseshoe bends of the single-laned Ponderosa Pine Scenic Route at not more than 4 and a half miles an hour. 

A tree lined downtown street and outdoor cafe

As the capital, Boise is the State's most populous city and probably the only city in Idaho with buildings taller than 3 stories. In fact, they are very proud of the U.S Bank Plaza with its ... staggering ... 20 stories. It stands on Grove Plaza in the centre of the downtown business district. This succinct area is bustling with atmosphere, and I was so impressed by the awesome young energetic vibe and modern, urban feeling of this wonderful little city. There are many delicious restaurants (a delectable find was Proto's, where the pizza is as good as Faccia Luna in State College and Lapa Flo in Joburg), bars (a pear cider comes to mind but I'm not remebering the names of the bars we visited), clubs (we saw 2 great bands) and shops (the record store, like the one in the movie Empire Records, was a highlight). This downtown area is created by a grid of streets that extend outwards from a rather busy central pedestrian area. I find it wonderful to be in a city that values the pedestrian, which is the antithesis of the ubiquitous (and much despised by myself) American drive-through: drive-through food, drive-through coffee, drive-through banking, drive-through pharmacy, drive-through mailboxes and I even found on wikipedia, I kid you not, a drive-through funeral viewing parlour, because getting out of your car to say your last goodbyes to that precious loved one may be too much to ask.

Now that's what I call a tree!

We spent a glorious afternoon riding our bikes along the Green Belt - a lovely park that extends for 22 miles along the Boise River. Of course in that afternoon we didn't cover all 22 miles - it seemed like an awful lot of exercise but I think we only covered 5 miles or so. The reason for this was not only our leisurely speed (yes I was setting pace) but also the fact that it is ridiculously scenic and we couldn't help but stop to take in the views of the river, the many bridges, the towering trees and even some local dogs taking a swim against the surprisingly strong current. Another setback was a sneakily located Brewery along the bike path which was rather too tempting on such a warm summer's afternoon. Although Idaho Falls also has a Green Belt, along the great Snake River no less, I couldn't help feeling a little green with envy as this area in Boise is so expansive, user-friendly, clean and picturesque. I shudder to think that there are probably many local residents who pay gym membership fees to sit on a stationary bike inside a building when they have this on their doorstep.

The brick facade of the Basque Market

I was surprised to find a Basque neighbourhood and even more surprised to discover that Boise is home to one of the largest communities of Basque immigrants in the world. The area is called the Basque Block and consists of restaurants and traditional eateries as well as a museum and cultural centre that preserves the heritage and language through exibts, collections, festivals, classes, and tours. We celebrated this wonderful find with tapas, paella and Spanish wine at the Basque market. I'm thrilled to know that this touch of Europe is only a four and a half hour drive away from my home. Next time I visit here I'll be sure to bring some extra dollars to procure some tapenade, chourizo and some of the many Spanish wines they had on offer. Why is the good stuff always so expensive?

On Wednesdays and Fridays they make Paella at noon on the pavement - conveniently we rolled up at 12.15 on a Friday

On Saturday mornings from 8.30am 8th Street is transformed into the Capital City Public Market. These farmer's markets are found across America and I am so pleased to see locals shopping locally for fresh produce, buying from the person who grew it. This market in Boise is certainly impressive (far better than the local version in Idaho Falls and better too than the Amish one in State College). They have a large selection of potatoes (obviously) as well as all types of fruit, vegetables, meats, fish, breads, cheeses and flowers. There's more to the market than the edible offerings and you can find jewellery, art and handmade crafts, candles, gifts, cards, etc. It makes for a great morning out and even though we only turned up at 11am we managed to visit many stalls, trying, nibbling and perusing without too much procuring - of course you wouldn't want to buy fresh flowers and some bison steaks for your hotel room.

It's a great city, and I must say I'm a little disappointed it's 4 and half hours away but I'm suspecting that Boise will be revisited numerous times while I'm an Idahoian. While I lived in State College it was always great to know that New York City was just 4 and a half hours away and while I'm not quite comparing Boise to the Big Apple, it will be my go-to urban choice for a while and should be on your list of 5000 places to see.

The centre of the city  - Grove Plaza

Die Groot Trek

About 180 years ago my forefathers, or perhaps I should say foremothers (since it was my mother's people) travelled hundreds of kilometers in search of a better life. This mass migration was an epic historic event in the history of the Afrikaaners and was called 'Die Groot Trek', which can be translated as 'The Big Move' - inventive people, those Afrikaaners. The motivation for this voyage was discontentment under the British rule (my father's people), and a desire for a superior quality of life in greener pastures.

And so, almost two hundred years later, with the blood of the 'Voortrekker' (Afrikaans word for pioneer, it basically means 'forward mover', I know, inventive hey?) flowing through my veins, I too embarked on a 'Groot Trek', a journey of more than 3600 km across a great country to escape Pennsylvanian rule and to search for greener pastures in the distant land of Idaho.

OK, so Pennsylvanian rule wasn't too awful, but hell, not being able to buy more than 12 beers from a bottle shop unless it's a distributor and being forced to shop at three separate venues for wine, beer and food because it's illegal to put (1) food and beer in the same store, (2) food and wine in the same store and (3) wine and beer in the same store, is as good a reason as any to get the hell out of there. But I certainly couldn't count looking for greener pastures as a motivation for my relocation since Pennsylvania is by far the greenest place I have ever seen in my life. Instead the driving force of our 'trek' was my husband's desire to hang out with the largest concentration of nuclear reactors in the world - and our desire to make a better life in spite of that.

And so began the 2000 mile, 9 day journey across Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming and finally Idaho. And here follows the highlights of that expedition.

Chicago, Illinois
Our first endeavour was to get out of Pennsylvania, and manoeuvre through Ohio and Indiana as quickly as humanly possible. We achieved that in 9 hours, arriving at our first stop-over, the eminently magnificent Chicago. We spent 2 and a half days (in a blistering heat-wave) in this astonishing city and that was simply not nearly enough. The outstanding architecture, the lake, the pier, the food, drink, music, culture, shopping, vibrant atmosphere were all truly splendid. The only slight disappointment (for me at least) was that I was unable to swing a visit to the Oprah show, which has been a lifelong dream, but she went and retired before I could get there. (And I thought she loved South Africans). To top off a perfect visit there was a massive fireworks display off Navy Pier, while we were there listening to a band, that would rival any 4th of July display I've seen (and I've seen some pretty awesome ones).

Chicago at night viewed from Navy Pier

Milwaukee, Wisconsin
A short drive up Lake Michigan brought us to our second stop-over, the historic Germanic town, Milwaukee. It also happens to be the home of American beer and thus was an essential point of interest for us. To top it off, Wisconsin is America's dairy (as in cheese everywhere). We did well to hit 2 breweries in our single evening there and sampled cheese to our heart's content. Here too we witnessed a fireworks display above the lake as we stumbled back to our hotel after tasting as many beer samples as we bravely could.

One of many Germanic style buildings on Old World Third Street

Madison, Wisconsin
A quick stop off for lunch was all we could afford, time wise, in Madison but I'm certainly glad we did. The Wisconsin state capital is a lovely place and luckily we arrived while they had their farmer's market (more cheese) surrounding the Capitol Building. It's clean and people seem so happy to live there, and the sky, wow, the sky in Wisconsin is always so artistically dotted with white cloud puffs that it seems, at every minute, like a master piece.

The domed State Capitol building

Minneapolis, Minnesota
After seeing some of the loveliest cities in America I hadn't stored up much anticipation for Minneapolis, I guessed it would be big and dreary, and to tell the truth, since the city's main attraction is 'Mall of America,' I expected to hate it. What a surprise to find such a perfectly maintained, walkable, modern downtown area. On our first night here we witnessed yet another incredible fireworks display above the Mississippi River and we were starting to feel rather self-important with each city welcoming us in such flamboyant style. We went to see a theatre production at the incredible Guthrie Theatre. The show was great but the building blew my mind. It's interesting that Minneapolis has more theatres per capita than anywhere in the U.S with the exception of New York City. We dined on sushi in a swanky Japanese restaurant and we were totally captivated by this glorious city. But seeing that the buildings are all connected by aerial walkway I'm pretty sure its not a place to visit in the winter.

Minneapolis is full of flowers, pavements cafes and those winter walkways

Badlands, South Dakota
I was rather excited to discover that on our intended route lay the Badlands National Park. The 6 National Parks I have visited so far, have all been truly incredible experiences so I was keen to add another to the list. The name, Badlands, entices me so, much like Death Valley. The name was given by the Sioux Indians, who inventively, (they have this in common with the Afrikaaners) named it Bad Land because of the lack of water, rough terrain, scant vegetation and lack of firewood. But even if you try to visualise the most desolate landscape imaginable you will not be prepared for the eerie scene that dramatically awaits you after crossing most of South Dakota's rolling green plains.


Ah, so I wouldn't grow my tomatoes here



Mount Rushmore, South Dakota
What road trip across America would be complete without the quintessential visit to the iconic Mount Rushmore National Memorial. It does not disappoint! In true American style the setting, in the magnificent Black Hills, is idyllic and the highly visible location puts the ostentatious sculpture of America's most beloved leaders on display for hundreds of meters. It's a really exciting drive if you come up Iron Mountain Road because, besides being incredibly scenic, you can see glimpses of the face carvings from about 20 miles away and you keep trying to catch views of it, like kids trying to see the ocean on a trip to the coast.

Georgie, Tommy, Abe and Teddy

Wyoming
Having been in Wyoming before I knew of its immense beauty so I was surprised that the worst scenery of the trip consisted of the flat monotonous grasslands of eastern Wyoming. It's tedious and desolate with uninteresting gas station towns and endless industrial drilling sites with vast nothingness in between. After many hours of this depressing and uninspiring landscape we finally arrived at the beginning of the Rockies. Once we hit the Togwotee Pass I dismissed the bland images of eastern Wyoming and began to marvel at the curvaceous landscape. Nothing can compare though, to when you first catch a glance of the snow-capped Teton peaks as you crest the pass, it just takes your breath away. This is, to me, the most beautiful area of the entire country and I'm awed every time I get to spend time here.

The majestic backdrop of the Teton Mountain Range

Idaho
Once we hit Jackson, a delightful resort town in Western Wyoming we knew we were on the home straight. We took the Teton Pass which is where you cross the border into Idaho and followed the Snake River right into Idaho Falls which is where we'll be based for next 18 odd months of our lives.

Following the Snake River

It's part of the American dream to do such a road trip and although we didn't quite go coast to coast it was an amazing journey, our 'Groot Trek', and another adventure in our American experience.

Over Yonder Hill I'm Gonna Get Me Some BBQ

I haven't been nearly as conscientious about writing about my travels as I had hoped. I've been to New York City over 10 times and still haven't written a single post about it, but sometimes it's the little towns that inspire one to get writing again and that is what Port Matilda, Pennsylvania did for me...

A few week-ends ago a friend of mine suggested the mad idea of riding our bicycles to Port Matilda. Normally I only ride my bike when the car is broken, or there is no petrol in it, or when there is nowhere cheap to park, or when Ivor and I can't decide who will be the designated driver for the evening, but I certainly don't do it for ... fun!

Don't be fooled... 8 miles means still many km's to go

The draw card however, was the opportunity to eat at Clem's Wood-Fired BBQ. One of the best things about America (certainly 1 of the top 5 in my book) is barbecue. While every country seems to have their own take on cooking meat outdoors, the American version of slow cooking meat for many hours over a wood fire is ridiculously delectable, so delectable, in fact, that I willingly agreed to ride my rusty purple Walmart bicycle 12 miles (19.311233 km) to Port Matilda. http://www.clemsfire.com/ This type of barbecue should not, however, be confused with the other American version of throwing a hamburger patty on a gas grill and calling it a barbeque.

 

Bellefonte Central Bicycle Path

The town of Port Matilda is in fact, and I apologise to the 638 (yes I looked that up on wikipedia) residents, a shithole. I didn't know that yet and I actually quite liked the quaint sound of the name and so, on a sunny Saturday morning, our group of 4 set off. We met at Sunset Park in State College and started down the Bellefonte Central bicycle path. It's a lovely path that I had never used before and I was almost enjoying myself as we weaved through the golf course at Toftrees. The major uphill out of Happy Valley was a climb of over 600 feet. I've always joked about the 'mountains' in Pennsylvania being merely hills but I withdraw that now that I've pedaled over them. There was, I must admit, some swearing and gnashing of teeth but the view from the top smoothed away those tired leg muscles and woe.

An accurate representation of the size of town

It took longer than the 70 minutes Google promised but we arrived in Port Matilda in time for lunch and I was rather looking forward to over-eating after my morning workout. We looked out for Clem's but couldn't see it anywhere. We rode, up this way and that, covering the whole of the 0.6 square miles that makes up Port Matilda at least 3 times. We used the iPhone and the GPS but each time, while technology said we were there, we couldn't see anything that resembled a wood-fire barbecue restaurant at all. Actually besides the gas station and the pizza joint there wasn't much else to speak of. Eventually we saw 2 of the 638 locals and asked them for assistance and they announced that Clem's had moved 2 years previously to Tyrone (a larger, but equally shitty town) 20 miles further down the road. The swearing, gnashing of teeth and woe returned. We unrelentingly released our fury on our friend whose suggestion it had been until she offered an alternative.

Uphills!

Plan B was to go to Way Fruit Farm. We stopped at the gas station for some cold energy drinks before heading off for the 3 mile trip. I decided to double check Google's directions with a local to make sure it, too, hadn't moved. An old man was sitting outside the store at the gas station (what else is there to do on a Saturday afternoon in Port Matilda) and when I asked him for directions to the Farm he took one look at my bicycle and began to chuckle. "Good luck getting there on that thing," he snorted. At least 2 and a half miles of the 3 mile journey were brutal uphills over a mountain. I'm sure that, although the 2 boys insisted they were stopping every 100 yards or so just to wait for us girls to catch up, they were, in fact, struggling too. I pushed my bike and felt no shame. About 20 minutes into the journey a large truck pulled up alongside me and the old man from the gas station waved happily while laughing and offering a tow. I'm pretty sure he only left the social hub of the gas station to have a good chuckle at us.

Almost there...

Eventually we reached the top of the mountain and saw the sign for Way Fruit Farm with the directions "bottom of hill turn left". It's incredible how quickly one can descend a mountain that took an hour to climb. We were there in 3 minutes.

Way Fruit Farm and our trusty transport

We dashed to the Way Cafe where we gulped down fresh deli sandwiches chased by a bounty of ice-cream. When we were sufficiently replenished we wandered through the country crafts and abundant farm produce in the store. Way Fruit Farm is a sixth generation family owned and run farm which started in 1872 and well worth the trip (by car) for anyone in the area. It was strawberry season while we were there and many families and couples were out in the field picking their own strawberries for purchase. I however, rejected the urge to procure the many delicious offerings purely because the idea of cycling the 12 miles home with a fresh pork roast and a pound of apples was a little more than I could bear. http://www.wayfruitfarm.com/

The way home was tedious but we managed to get there before the rain. All in all we did about 50km and it took 7 hours. I thought I may never forgive my friend for her mad suggestion but when my bike was locked up and my feet were up on the couch I realsied that I had, indeed, enjoyed a wonderful day.

The gorgeous green of Pennsylvania