Going Back to California

Our first night out of DC we camped along the Holston River in Tennessee.

From there we headed to Nashville.

As we rolled down Music Row, Sophie Lee practiced her shattered End-of-the-Tour look. I like to think Willie Nelson would approve.

Thanks to a tip from Jake Tamarkin, we took some time off from driving in Centennial Park, where there was a music festival and a full size replica of the Parthenon. Wild. 

From Nashville we cruised down the Natchez Trace, one of the greatest driving roads in America. Near the beginning we visited the grave of exploring hero, Meriwether Lewis, who died nearby, most likely by suicide.

We peeled off the Trace a couple of times to visit the Shiloh Battlefield, site of one of the bloodiest two days of fighting in the Civil War, and Elvis's Birthplace in Tupelo, Mississippi.

We left the Trace for good to visit Vicksburg and its battlefield, site of Grant's siege that marked the beginning of the end for the Confederacy.

Imagine charging up this to attack fortified positions. It didn't go well.

The USS Cairo, an ironclad sunk by a Confederate mine.

Sleeping through Louisiana.

Sophie Lee, American Troubadour.

We spent a night in Dallas with one of Hilary's oldest friends, Christie, and her wonderful family--husband Jiu, son Aedan, and mother-in-law, Mom Kim. Aedan and Sophie hit it off.

We spent a couple days in San Antonio catching up with Matt and Bridget and their fantastic daughters, Molly, Maeve, and Sloan who are always so great with Sophie Lee.

As we drove out through the endless beautiful nothingness of West Texas, we splurged and stayed at the historic Gage Hotel.

Marfa, Texas--artist community in the middle of nowhere.

Some of my favorite moments were spent clowning around with Sophie Lee at random rest areas like this one.

The Amagosa Hotel and Opera house in Death Valley Junction. Very strange place.

Death Valley, California.

Sophie "Badwater" Benson

Mere hours from Death Valley, the lowest place in the Western Hemisphere, stands Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the U.S. outside of Alaska. One of the many reasons to love California.

Finally we zipped through Yosemite, jumped in a lake, and arrived in San Francisco on the night of July 4. The amateur fireworks displays along Rt. 580 through the East Bay made for a wonderful homecoming.