Hello, my bed, dear friend. (A life-changing odyssey ends)

Home Sweet Home

I am finally back home and currently sitting in my office at Kalitta Motorsports World Headquarters in beautiful (yet currently rainy and dreary) Ypsilanti (Township), Mich. pecking away on the keyboard of my laptop. The Camping with Todd journey has met its end, but there are still a few things I would like to share with you, dear reader, before we close the book completely.

Before I left for the NHRA Western Swing trip and reason for this blog, I knew that I had a lot of things planned and that I would have to keep a journal to keep track of all the wonderful happenings and to keep a pretty tight schedule in an effort to keep my head from spinning too far off its axis. I was fairly proficient at the whole process throughout the last 22 days (Geez, 22...really?! No wonder my bed felt so good last night!). I kept notes on where I hiked and for how long. I knew how long I could stay at each attraction and so forth. With that due diligence and the spectacular guidance of the navigation system (I named her Cindy, as she was the only voice I heard for a lot of the 7,000+ miles...and, yes, regretfully I must admit to you, dear reader, I did talk back to her a few times...) in the Sequoia, I hit every mark on the schedule, within a few minutes, all the way through...almost (more on that later).

Little Bighorn Battlefield

After I left Grubby's home and hospitality in Bozeman Tuesday morning, The Sequoia and I were again Eastbound and down with one stop planned between Bozeman and Keystone, South Dakota - Little Bighorn Battlefield Before I got the junction of I-90 and Hwy. 212 where the battlefield resides, I made a stop to get the Official Fast Food Meal of Camping with Todd - McDouble, small fries, and a medium Diet Coke. Sadly, dear reader, I consumed several Official Fast Food Meals of Camping with Todd at McDonald's on the odyssey, but I digress (and diet!).

Once I pulled on to the property of The Little Bighorn Battlefield, my spine began to tingle. Just looking out over the rolling hills and ravines and know that so many people had lost their lives there gave me an uneasy feeling. I went ahead and parked in the designated lot and got out to look around, reluctantly.

 

The field is eerily cluttered with white stone grave markers. Almost every one reads the same, "U.S. SOLDIER 7TH CAVALRY FELL HERE, JUNE 25, 1876". General Custer's men were buried where they fell (later to be interred at a more suitable location). The fewer dead of the Lakota and Cheyenne were taken away and buried elsewhere. You can read more about the details here (please do read more). I took the path down to the ravine where so many lives were lost. It was very unsettling, so I made a bit quicker steps back up the path and back to the Sequoia. I studied about the Battle of Little Bighorn, and Custer, and Sitting Bull ages ago in school, but there really is a lot to the story...some things I knew and some I didn't. If you do get a chance, do some research (online, of course).

I left the Battlefield and pointed the Sequoia toward Hwy. 212 and Keystone. The drive was magnificent. It was a beautiful day with a few spotty clouds. I even drove up on a wildfire. All sorts of fire-fighting personnel were in the area. The fire was close enough to the road that the smoke was thick, but thankfully I never saw any flames. Kudos to the brave men and women fighting this blaze and all others.

As I kept seeing motorcycle after motorcycle on this leg of the journey, a thought popped in my head from something I overheard at the race in Seattle, "Sturgis is next week, I think." Sir, whoever you may be, you were very correct in that statement. As I left Montana and passed through a brief stint back in to Wyoming, I entered South Dakota and into what I have renamed and will forever now proclaim as the V-Twin Sea. You couldn't swing a dead cat (calm down, PETA, it's just an expression) without hitting a Harley or a biker, especially when I rolled into the Black Hills area and Keystone. By this time, I was tired, a bit grouchy, and needed a shower and a good night's sleep. The Sequoia did its best Moses (not Charlton Heston) imitation and we parted the V-Twin Sea to get settled in for the night. My third and final check on my life's to-do list would have to wait for a fresh start and fresher Todd the next morning.

Mount Rushmore/Crazy Horse Mountain

Ahhh...Mount Rushmore. I have wanted to visit  Gutzon Borglum's masterpiece for as long as I can remember. I'm sure, dear reader, that my not-so-subtle hint in my previous blog entry clued you in to where I was going next. Indeed, now I can say, "Oh yeah, I've been to Mt. Rushmore. It's Majestic." Check that one off the list.

I walked around Mount Rushmore National Memorial with this stupid grin on my face, all under the watchful eyes of George (the prince of powder (wigs) and the voice of Valley Forge, the Alpha of Rock), Tommy (the Monticello Madman), Teddy (speaking softly and carrying two big drumsticks), and Abe "Don’t Call Me ‘Braham" (the boss of the beard and the badass of the bass line) for about two hours taking photos of every angle I could find...

I absorbed all I could and even had a chat with Don "Nick" Clifford, one of the carvers on Mt. Rushmore, in the gift shop at the Visitor's Center. We talked about his work on the mountain, of course, and even about his stint with the Mt. Rushmore baseball team. Did you know (sorry, Bob Frey) that there was a Mt. Rushmore baseball team? Neither did I! (Nick even signed one of his baseball cards for me...freakin' awesome!)

Todd: What position did you play?
Nick: Outfield and pitcher.
Todd: Which did you prefer?
Nick: Oh, definitely pitcher

My two hours of allotted time were up at Mt. Rushmore, and I wanted to spend my third and final hour in the Black Hills at the work in progress, Crazy Horse Mountain...

The Crazy Horse Memorial is already spectacular to visit, but I can only imagine what the magnificence of the final sculpture will be (slotted to be done in 60-70 years, so if I'm still kickin' then, please, dear reader, roll me up to see it). In 1948, Korczak Ziolkowski began work on his Crazy Horse masterpiece to remind the "white man" that the "red man" had heroes, too. Korczak died in 1982, but his wife, Ruth, and his family continue his beloved work. I really do hope I get to see the finished piece someday.

Okay, three hours on the schedule for the Black Hills were up and it was time to get the Sequoia pointed east...well, remember how I told you earlier that I almost hit every mark on the schedule...here is where I strayed, and I'm going to take this public opportunity to blame Cara and the fine folks at Black Hills Aerial Adventures for luring me into my abrupt course deviation...just kidding!

Todd: I've never been on a helicopter ride.
Inner Todd: Screw the schedule! Let's go for a ride in the whirly bird!

Inner Todd won. I decided on a course in the hangar/building (they have several to choose from) and then boarded the black Robinson R44 Raven (I had to look it up. Online, of course) with my pilot for my deviation, Cara. Cara was super friendly (She told me she was going to read this, but she really was super friendly) and she was great pointing out points of interest including the incredible Cathedral Spires. We cruised by those and then there was Mt. Rushmore (enter spine tingling (the good kind) again)...

 

And then a few minutes later, We were eye(s) to eye with Crazy Horse (tingle (still good kind) overload)...

Wow! What a ride. If you get the chance, DO IT! Everyone at Black Hills Aerial Adventures was very kind and helpful. Thank you!

After we landed and I said my goodbye to Cara and the gang, and since the schedule was already in utter shambles (exaggeration), I stopped to have lunch at the Ponderosa Restaurant in Palmer Gulch somewhere between Crazy Horse Mountain and Mt. Rushmore (about 17 miles apart) and made a rare stray from the Official Fast Food Meal of Camping with Todd.

After consumption of a pretty good hamburger (not too far of a stray...) and subsequent digestion, it was really time to get going east again. I was hoping to get to Minnesota that night before stopping, but I could tell when I left the Black Hills and got back onto I-90 that the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes was probably not going to be my resting place for the evening. I made it to the very nice Holiday Inn Express in Mitchell, South Dakota (yes, the home of the famous Corn Palace) before my weary eyes went dark (with visions of Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial, and helicopters still dancing through my head).

Yesterday morning I woke up refreshed and recharged (and still grinning from Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial, and helicopters) and ready to tackle the 14-hour ride back home. "Home", that's a word that I hadn't thought of in quite a while, but it did have a nice ring to it. Homeward bound I went!

Reflections and Racing

Fourteen hours is a long time to think and reflect, and I did A LOT of that! Many of the thoughts swirling in my head were about the amazing journey that was coming to an end and some thoughts were about life in general and how the entire experience was something my soul was yearning for (even though its owner wasn't necessarily listening). And, some thoughts were about my awesome Kalitta Motorsports race team and how privileged I am to be where I am. Team Kalitta had a great Western Swing. We won 11 rounds in eliminations including three semifinals...great job by all the Kalitta Motorsports crews!

Speaking of crews, I want to take this opportunity to salute all the crews of Kalitta Motorsports, the crews of other NHRA teams, and the NHRA Safety Safari who travel the highways and byways of this great country FAR more than my little, drop-in-the-bucket trip every year to bring you the best auto racing on the planet (Applause)!

And also speaking of drag racing, (WARNING! Here comes a shameless plug by Todd.), please be sure to pick up the latest issue of Drag Racing Action magazine (Nov. 2012) at your local newsstand (or Kroger, or Wal-mart, or (insert favorite retailer here)). There's an article in the issue, which just landed on my desk today, about our illustrious leader, Connie "the Bounty Hunter" Kalitta, written by yours truly...

 

My 22 days on the road were a profound experience. I challenged myself (I hiked to the top of a mountain in Sonoma!) like never before and met every goal. I spent 12 blissful nights in my tent. I hiked 50 miles (the predetermined goal). I watched and reported on the greatest race team in the world for three events, and I was honored and humbled to share the entire experience with you, dear reader. I listened to Sirius XM satellite radio A LOT in the Sequoia, mostly "80s on 8" and "90s on 9" (my g-g-g-generation) and was reacquainted with a Jackson Browne song that I haven't heard in years, That Girl Could Sing. The subject matter of the song doesn't fit, (at all) but one lyric struck a chord (pun intended) with me. I twisted it around a bit to this...

It could have been almost anywhere

with the possible exception of where

I wanted it to be.

That sums up the trip for me. There were no expectations, but everything was just what I needed before I knew I needed it. Thanks again for reading (me applauding you)!

Todd has left the blog...for now. I leave you with this...

Eastbound and Down (Is the Weight of the World on My Shoulders?)

Hello again, dear readers.

Sadly, I must begin this entry with two sorts of bad news. Camping on this trip is now over (bang the doldrums) and, unexpectedly, so is hiking. I blew out one vital part of each foot in a mountain hike in Idaho yesterday at the Coeur D' Alene Lake Caribou Ridge Trail No. 79...the big toe on my left foot and the heel on the opposite. But, I must carry on...Camping was a planned end when I left Seattle.

Last night I stayed at Dave's House (not the leader of the Chipmunks). Yes, you guessed it, that Dave...David Grubnic, driver of the Optima Batteries Top Fuel dragster, and the host with the most in Bozeman, MT. Grubby, celebrating his Nifty Birthday (I promised I wouldn't say), cooked me a marvelous dinner of grilled chicken and rice and gave me a spot on his couch to catch up on work, on HIS BIRTHDAY (He will celebrate later this week).

We had a great chat and then I was off this morning. (Thanks, Dave. Meant a lot) I took off from Bozeman at 7:00 a.m. for Check Three on the life's to-do list...

I'll catch you up on everything soon, but here's a hint for tomorrow as I'm going to see a MONUMENTAL concert...

Fathers of Rock
On drums, speaking softly and carrying two big drumsticks, Teddy Roosevelt.

Filling out the rhythm section, the boss of the beard and the badass of the bass line, Abe “Don’t Call Me ‘Braham” Lincoln.

On lead guitar, the Monticello Madman, Thomas Jefferson.

And, on lead vocals, the prince of powder (wigs) and the voice of Valley Forge, the Alpha of Rock IS George Washington!

Talk to you again soon with a recap and final words from the greatest trip of my life...

Camp Todd (Seattle Edition)

Howdy all! Well, I made it to Mt. Baker - Snoqualmie National Forest Tinkham Campground and Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) has been established - the final Camp Todd for this trip (insert sad music here). It's Saturday morning at Pacific Raceways and I've taken my post in Team Kalitta's hospitality office to get you up to date on all things Camping with Todd. I'm going to do things a little differently for this entry. Essentially what you'll see as you scroll the browser path downward will be a series of images with extended captions beneath each...kind of a Show and Tell blog style. I hope you enjoy!

Mark It Eight, Dude

When we last met here at this blog, I was in Grants Pass, Oregon. After I finished my post, I was starting to get comfortable in room 122 at the Grants Pass Holiday Inn Express when I got an email from my buddy (WARNING! Todd is about to do a seldom seen name drop) Phil Burgess, Editor of National Dragster magazine, informing me that he had spent some time in Grants Pass in the past (which meant he was reading my blog...new reader! yes!) helping some family members move to the area. The following email chat then took place:

Phil: Be sure to stop by the Caveman Bowl.
Todd: In Grants Pass?
Phil: Yep. Everything there is caveman this or that.
Todd: Is it a bowling alley?
Phil: Of course.

Everything in the area around Grants Pass is "Caveman" this or that because of the nearby Oregon Caves National Monument. I thought about it for about 13-18 seconds and decided that I would indeed take Phil's advice and go throw some stones ("Balls are made from real rocks found in the area, too. No holes. You have to throw them caveman style." - Phil Burgess, Funny Man). I got there about an hour before league play was to begin so I had time to bowl three games. I hadn't been bowling in years and had a blast! Two of my all-time favorite movies involve bowling (The Big Lebowski and Kingpin), so I thought it was a moral imperative to do so. But, dear reader, there is more to this story (Didn't you just know that there would be?). About two frames into my second game, the gentlemen who was bowling beside me and I started to chat. He asked if I was just passing (pun intended) through. I nodded yes and gave him the spiel about camping and driving and racing and camping and driving and racing, etc. He was genuinely intrigued, but I could tell his focus was on something else. Then, he introduced himself, "I'm Kevin Croucher. I'm a pro bowler." What?! Really?! Was this a Kingpin hustle?! He then uttered, "Would you like a free lesson?" Sure, Kevin Croucher, if that is indeed your real name...I'll take a free lesson. Turns out Kevin knows his stuff and his free lesson has changed the way I will bowl forever! He instructed to take five steps before releasing the ball as opposed to the three-step approach I had always done. It took some getting used to and I have to work on my release point, but I went from a 104 in the second game to a 126 in the third. Mark it eight, dude. Next frame.

This is the view on the way to Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) heading west on I-90. Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) is at the base of those mountains on the left hand side. Camping on the west side of the Cascades is just this side of bliss.

I bet you can guess what this pic is...you think you know it? Ding, ding, ding...you got it! Yep, this is Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) (formerly and once again campsite 15), and there are trees! Lots and LOTS of trees. It is a National Forest after all. I love this site. It's almost the perfect place to pitch a tent. It's level, it has plenty of shade, the Snoqualmie River is just off the back porch, and there is plenty of space between me and fellow campers. It only has one glaring drawback - I-90. The interstate is only a few steps on the other side of the shores of the Snoqualmie River and can be heard, quite vividly, all day and night. I've kind of gotten used to it now, though. I put on my trusty headphones at night to sleep so one noise cancels out another. On that noisy note, (WARNING! Todd is about to do another seldom seen name drop), I've exchanged a few texts with my pal, Brent Fitz, the last few nights...me updating him on camping and driving and racing and he updating me on touring with Slash. GO BUY THE NEW SLASH RECORD- Apocalyptic Love! It's really great, and I'm not just saying that because my buddy is the drummer. I promise...

Todd: Is Jersey thoroughly rocked?
Brent: Thoroughly! And now they weep. We are gone like lightning!

This is Snoqualmie Falls. It's quite stunning. I went there early Thursday morning hoping to hike from the upper falls area to the lower falls area, but, alas, they are installing a new hydroelectric thingamabob there and the trail is temporarily closed. I wish I had seen that sign before I gathered shoes and stick and got to this point (above pic) before I was denied. Head down and back to the Sequoia...gutter ball.

I was nine years old when Mt. St. Helens erupted. I remember it being a big deal, but I no idea what really happened until I went there Thursday afternoon after about a three-hour drive from Camp Todd (Seattle Edition). All of the fact placards I read on the many viewpoints out to the final viewpoint above just amazed me with fact after fact about what happened that day. Please do, dear reader, do some research (online, of course) on the subject. There are far too many to list here...

"An earthquake at 8:32:17 a.m. PDT (UTC−7) on Sunday, May 18, 1980, caused the entire weakened north face to slide away, suddenly exposing the partly molten, gas- and steam-rich rock in the volcano to lower pressure. The rock responded by exploding a hot mix of lava and pulverized older rock toward Spirit Lake so fast that it overtook the avalanching north face." - Wikipedia

I had chills and it wasn't because it was only 67 degrees.

I've had a couple of great fires at Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) already. Remember how I told you in a previous blog entry that every meal you cook for yourself at a campsite is the greatest meal you've ever eaten until the next meal you cook for yourself at a campsite? Well, the same can be said about the last two campfires I've built and burned in the last two nights. There are plenty of fallen limbs and logs around Camp Todd (Seattle Edition), so I went to Cabela's in Tacoma Thursday on my way to Mt. St. Helens and acquired a Gerber (not baby food) hatchet (they call it a backpacking axe, but to me it's a hatchet) so I could disassemble the limbs into a usable, fire-consuming size and combine my bought wood with nature's gift. It was at this point while shopping for my implement of destruction that I realized I have taken the plunge (not over Snoqualmie Falls). I am officially a hardcore camper. Ah, the truth shall set you free!

Doug Kalitta: You can fly on the corporate jet and stay in hotels, but you want to drive cross-country and camp?
Todd: Yep.
Doug Kalitta: You're out of control. You are out of control, but in a good way

Thanks DK.

On that note, it's time to go watch race cars go really fast for Saturday qualifying in Seattle.

I'll check back in with you soon!

Todd has left the hospitality trailer.

Racing, Loafing, and Stick Envy

I usually break down these blog entries in chronological order, but so much has happened since I last sit down to peck on the keys that I'm going to try something different for this one. Without any further fanfare, I present to you Racing, Loafing, and Stick Envy (which I could have just called "Hiking" but that wouldn't be as much fun, would it?)

Racing

For those of you that don't follow along with our team, Kalitta Motorsports, or the NHRA Full Throttle Drag Racing Series, STOP READING NOW and go plan a trip to a drag race! Seriously...stop and then go! Okay assuming now that you have returned to reading this blog after you just planned an exciting trip to a drag race near you, I will continue.

When we last discussed racing (actually, I just typed and you just read), we were racing in Denver, a million miles high and gasping for every wisp of oxygen we could inhale (a slight exaggeration, but you get the point). Race cars struggle with making horsepower the higher the altitude because of the lack of oxygen (and I almost always get an altitude headache...except this year in Denver! Yay skull!). Our previous event this past weekend was in Sonoma in the California wine country which gave us a chance to shake the grapes! Sonoma is near sea level so the race cars are much happier and reward us and NHRA fans (which you should be by now if you're reading this...) with quicker elapsed times and faster speeds. Like this...

 

And this...

From top to bottom that's Team Kalitta's Technicoat Top Fuel dragster driven by Doug Kalitta and the Optima Batteries Top Fueler driven by everyone's favorite Aussie David Grubnic. Doug's astounding 3.785 gave him and the Technicoat team, led by crew chief Jim Oberhofer, the No. 1 qualifying position for Sunday's eliminations. Grubby's 3.790, also in Friday night's qualifying, is a career best for him and the Optima Batteries team led by our patriarch, team owner, drag racing pioneer and icon, owner of Kalitta Air, and crew chief (at age 74!) Connie "the Bounty Hunter" Kalitta. Grubby qualified No. 2 marking the first time since the Gainesville, Fla. event in 2005 that our dragsters took the top two qualifying spots. All four of our racers qualified in the top-half of their respective classes for Sonoma elims with Jeff Arend and the DHL "Yella Fellas" posting a stellar 4.054-sec.,  314.24-mph (No. 4) time slip with the DHL Toyota Camry Funny Car and Alexis DeJoria guiding her Tequila Patron Toyota Camry Funny Car to the No. 7 slot with a 4.083-sec.,  310.84-mph blast.

The mood in our pit area in Sonoma was amazing. I've been with our team for 11 years now, and we have certainly had our share of ups and downs, but it still gives me chills as I'm thinking about it how proud I am to be a part of this team and experience the enthusiasm in our pits last weekend. It's a drag racing cliche that teams are like families, but we truly are. Our sponsors are not just partners they're friends. Several of them were on hand with us in Sonoma (more on that later) and just seeing the excitement on their faces is unmatched. I'm going to take this opportunity to thank the "Radman" for letting me work for and be a part of his team. Thanks, Conrad.

Sunday turned out to be a decent race day. We were hopeful for more, but it still wasn't bad. All four of our hot rods won their first round match-ups, but only Doug made it any further. Doug and the Technicoat team reached their fifth semifinal of the season. We are having a great year with all our cars, and I'm anxious to see what kind of performances we will have this weekend in Seattle.

Loafing

Sugarloaf Ridge State Park has moved up to my second favorite place to camp (My first is on the coast of Lake Superior in Michigan's Upper Peninsula at a campground that will remain a secret...shhh). At night it was chilly, but not cold. I slept in long pants and a sweatshirt but never felt uncomfortable (my nose may disagree on this point just a smidge, but I digress). People, mainly my teammates, have asked me why I'm doing this (actually Rick Fischer's interrogation started with, "What the @&#* are you doing?!). Saturday morning at The Loaf (oh, you know you know) was why I am doing this. I woke up with the absence of electric hum (no electric hookups near me) and could hear a chorus of nature led by the small birds gently pecking the ground around the tent accompanied by the flapping wings of a couple of crows flying overhead and the soft babbling of the brook behind Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition). The fourth and final part of the harmony to my auditory delight was small drops of dew leaving their leafy perches to tap on top of the tent. Folks, this is why I camp.

I also camp to meet new people. As you can probably tell, I can be quite the chatter. When I first got settled in to Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition), I met my right neighbors, George Shlyapin and his young son Nicolas. George is the president of GeoPak Imports Inc. and one heck of a friendly fellow. He had followed drag racing a bit when he was younger, but hadn't much as an adult. I really enjoyed watching his jaw drop every time I told him another statistic about what our race cars can do these days. Without much coaxing, I convinced George to agree to come out to the Raceway at Sonoma on Sunday with young Nicolas, who had never been to the drags, and even set him up with some tickets (Thanks again, Rach!). Like normal, Sundays are pretty hectic for me and unfortunately I missed meeting up with George and Nicolas, but as I sat down to type this entry I got an email from George telling me what a great time they had and that Nicolas is now a drag racing devotee. Folks, this is why I camp.

Sunday night I built my last campfire at SRSP. I was sad that I had to leave such a great campsite the next morning, but excited about what was coming up on my adventure (more on that later). As the sun was setting Sunday night, the campground got a visit from an old friend - the fox. Now, I had seen him almost every night around Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition) just foraging for crumbs but not malicious in any way (he was not a fan of my headlamp shining in his eyes). Sunday night he was in the small field in the center of the campground. I noticed him prowling around about the time our camp host, Steve (a GREAT camp host), drove by and made sure the fox was noticed. I was on my way to throw away some trash and stopped to watch my foxy friend. This is when I met some more super-friendly campers. Judy and Sunny were also on their way to dispose some garbage and give little Petri a walk. I chatted with Judy and Sunny about all things SRSP (where they had camped for many years), but I was admittedly very distracted by Petri. I'm a dog lover and he quickly became a Todd lover when I couldn't stop petting him. He is seven months old and probably a terrier/chihuahua mix. I say probably because there is no way of knowing as Petri is a rescue dog. Judy and Sunny had rescued him from a shelter (shelter dogs are the BEST dogs). It was great to spend several minutes chatting with Judy and Sunny and getting my dog fix. Folks, this is why I camp.

Stick Envy

There have been two hikes since I have last posted. These are not two ordinary hikes. These are two hikes that I'm sure will one day be a couple of the fondest memories of my life. Thursday afternoon at SRSP I wanted to go for a hike, but I knew I had to keep a pretty tight schedule as our team and the Al-Anabi Racing team were invited to join our friends (yes, friends) Tim Kerrigan, Cameron Evans and the Red Line Oil family for dinner at beautiful Monticello Vineyards (Corley Family Napa Valley). I was only a couple of minutes late and a wonderful time was had by all. Thanks a million (that's how many miles high we were in Denver) to Cam and Tim. You guys are truly the best and we're very fortunate to be in the Red Line family...

So...back to why I was late. I talked to George just before 2:00 p.m. Thursday and he told me that he and Nicolas had been hiking that morning around the ridge. He said it was a great hike and not very difficult if you took the Meadow Trail. If you went left onto the Bald Mountain Trail, well, that's a different story. "My wife took me on that thing a few years ago and it almost killed me! It's about 4-5 miles of almost all straight up," George advised. Hmmm, I would like a nice, easy hike, but I was also thinking, "I've never hiked to the top of a mountain." I took George's words and swirled them around in my mind with my own thoughts and then I got to this point...

I went left (you knew that I would with that not-so-subtle build up). George was right. It was a very steep hike. There were at least three times when I thought I should stop and turn around, but I didn't. I kept going. I was going to get to the top of that mountain if it killed me. I figured I was as close to God as I had ever been and if I was going to meet him the trip would be shorter. Turns out it wasn't quite the 4-5 miles that George thought (sorry pal). It was more like 2.5. I got to the top at exactly 3:30. "YES!" I did it...I hiked to the top of a mountain...wait...what?, "How high am I?". "That's it?! Only 2729 feet?!"

I was disappointed a jot that I wasn't at least a million miles up (How high Denver is) because that was what my feet and calves thought, too. I checked the time and didn't have time to dawdle on the mountain top, but the view was tremendous...

On the way down, my knees and thighs tried to form a revolt against me, but we negotiated a peace treaty with a few short breaks and eventually, and very slowly, got back to Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition). On the drive over to the RLO party (on a very FUN winding and hilly Trinity Rd.), I had this overwhelming sense of accomplishment...I stood on a mountain top, and I didn't drive to it. I'm pretty sure this won't be the last time I feel this because I'm hooked on that feeling.

Okay, so here is where we get to the reason for the stick envy (I'm sure you were wondering, weren't you?) I took off north Monday morning on US 101 with the eventual destination of Seattle for the next race and to also eventually set up Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) at Tinkham. When I left for this trip I had three things on my life's to-do list that I was hoping to check off. I wanted to drive on the Bonneville Salt Flats - Check. I also wanted to see the Giant Redwood trees in Northern California, but not just see them...I wanted to hike amongst them (coming soon in this blog). On the way up the 101, the vistas (remember, a fancy word for views) were spectacular...

And even one that made my soul sing (even with the correct spelling...sans the extra "e")...

When I left Santa Rosa, I used the navigation system in the Sequoia to plot my course to see the big trees (Get it? Sequoias...big trees...). It returned to me several options so I just punched one knowing that the course would at least take me to the park and I could figure it out from there. I got to the park and kept following the navigation because this path seemed more and more intriguing the closer I got. My silver friend the Sequoia led me to the perfect spot (I think we're bonding) - The Redwood Creek Trail head. We pulled into the parking lot at 12:30 p.m. yesterday. I studied the posted trail map and decided to take on the ambitious 7.7 mi. (one way) hike to the Tall Trees Grove (simplicity in naming at its finest). The hike was mostly flat on a narrow trail with a few ups and downs along the banks of the Redwood Creek (thus, the name of the trail)...

 

And, I was hiking with the Redwoods!

What an amazing hike that was! I could babble (like the aforementioned brook) here for hours about how cool it was, but nothing I can type can remotely compare to how beautiful it is. After about three hours, Ole 72 and I made it to the Tall Trees Grove. Along the trail there were many Giant Redwoods, but no more that two or three together...until you get to the Grove. In the Tall Tree Grove there were 15-20 of these monsters in a tranquil setting that needs no soundtrack. I couldn't help to lean Ole 72 up against one of his cousins for a comparison (Ahhh, there it is...STICK ENVY :))...

The hike back seemed like 77.7 miles, but I finally made it back, VERY slow and steady, just before 6:30 p.m. Thank the aforementioned Maker for baby powder. And, that's all I have to say about that.

Hike with Giant Redwoods - Check. (More on the third item on the life's to-do list next week)

So, here I am finishing up this blog post (that I started six hours ago but just kept remembering more and more to tell you) from the lovely Holiday Inn Express in Grants Pass, OR. (I'm not stepping out on Candlewood Suites. Holiday Inn Express is also an IHG property). The plan tomorrow is to make the seven-hour ride up to Seattle (with a possible small hike in Oregon along the way) and set up Camp Todd (Seattle Edition) by late tomorrow afternoon. I hope you've enjoyed my latest ramblings, and I'll be typing again at you very soon.

Todd has left the hotel.

Salt, Rye and Starbucks (Is this really the hiking trail?!)

Good morning from the Starbucks in beautiful Santa Rosa, California! I don't have Internet access at Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition) (more on my new campsite later in this blog entry) so I made my way to see the local barista and piggy back on to their Web portal. Thank you, Starbucks of Santa Rosa.

So, I still need to catch you guys up on Tuesday. As I teased you with my not so subtle hint photo in my last entry, I finally got to do something I've always wanted to to - Drive on the Salt Flats at Bonneville! For those of you that don't know, the Bonneville Salt Flats are the home of speed, really, REALLY fast speed. Vehicles reach speeds over 500 mph on the salty surface (which feels as hard as concrete) at the famed Bonneville International Speedway at the western edge of the Flats. After a quick drive from 1-80 (just before the Nevada border), I got to the Flats and took the Sequoia for a salty spin (I'm not going to tell you how fast I drove, but let's just say the Sequoia can hold its own in the horsepower department).

It was really a blast and something that put a huge grin on my face for the rest of the day Tuesday. After I left Bonneville, it was on to my next nightly stop in Reno, Nevada (The biggest little city in the world so the sign says). While I was in Salt Lake City, I found a spot on the map that I could stop for a hike before I reached the Reno city limits - A quaint little place called Rye Patch State Recreation Area.

I took the mile-long road off the interstate to the park entrance and saw the sign for "Nature Trail" - Perfect (or so I thought). I went through the normal routine, shoes and stick, and hit the trail. My first thought was, "This is a nice little trail." My next thought was, "That's it?!" After about 100 yards, the trail ended at a fence. I was pretty sure I read on the Rye Patch info page online that there were more hiking trails than that! I hung my head (I couldn't even let Ole 72 tap the soil) and headed back for the Sequoia. Then, another sign appeared, and I'm pretty sure there was a bright, brilliant light and trumpets playing. This sign read "Interpretive Trail" and at another fence there was a small opening. Interpretive Trail in this case really means "No Trail" and you just kind of make it up as you go...and I was happy to oblige.

I spent about an hour and a half walking around the reservoir and climbing on the mounds around it. I was amazed at the contrast of the ground beneath my hiking shoes between the very hard earth along the shore and the quite mushy, yet dry, dirt that composed the mounds. I figure I put about three miles in and made my way back to the Sequoia with a great feeling of satisfaction, a fitting contrast to the sense of disgust I had not long before that. Thank you, Rye Patch...after all.

On to Reno for the night and a blog post Wednesday morning.

I had planned on Wednesday to be a "go mode" day. I was not planning any stops because I wanted to get to Sugarloaf Ridge State Park to set up Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition) for the race and give myself plenty of time to do so. So much for that plan.

About the time I got to the top of the very eye-pleasing Donner Summit, there was another sign that appeared...

Really?! How can I pass (pun intended) this up?! I was trying to steer the Sequoia away, but low and behold it still wound up in the parking lot at the Donner Summit Pacific Crest Trail. "Okay, just make it a quick hike," as I commenced with shoes and stick. I held myself to the quick hike, but I really, REALLY didn't want to. What a beautiful place to take a walk. The terrain is friendly, but mixed with plenty of rocks and dirt. I only went about a mile in and turned around, begrudgingly...

Back on the road I promised myself that there would be no more stops before getting to the Loaf (yes, I went there) for the night. I kept that promise and cruised into the Sonoma Valley just before 3:30 p.m. Dodging a few wineries and traversing a treacherous (yet very fun) road up to the near-top of the Loaf (yep, I went there again), I arrived at campsite No. 4 (known from this point forward as Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition)) around 4:30 p.m.

I got the tent and camp set up pretty quickly considering my leisurely pace and my aforementioned haphazard and hurried packing in Denver. I have to admit that I was feeling quite proud of myself and decided to reward myself with a meal that did not include beef jerky of trail mix.

I was off to downtown Santa Rosa to find a grocery store and a steak it held inside. I found a Safeway and acquired my meal (urban hunting and gathering) and was headed back to Camp Todd (Sonoma Edition) to cook. I fired up my Coleman two-burner stove and plopped the beefy slab into my Coleman camping skillet and enjoyed the charred flesh about 20 minutes later. In case you don't know, any food you cook for yourself at a campsite is the best meal you've ever eaten until the next meal you cook for yourself at a campsite.

 

After my dinner of the best meal I've ever eaten, the sky treated me to this heavenly display (more brilliant light and trumpets)...

Night fell not long after and a campfire was built, of course, and then off to a great night's sleep in the cool, clean air of the Loaf (yeah, you know...)

Okay, I'm starting to get some glares from some of the Starbucks patrons because I have been in the seat for a very long time ("Is he writing a novel?"), so I am gonna wrap this entry up here.

Until, next time...Todd has left the Starbucks.

Haulin' and Hikin'

So much has happened since I last sat down to seek and destroy the keys on my laptop that I find my mind swirling with almost four days worth of travel goodness that I can't decide where to start! Okay Todd, calm down...take it one step at a time and just start from the beginning - deep breaths...

Saturday (Walk tall and carry a big stick)

After another day of qualifying at Bandimere, Saturday night at Camp Todd (Denver Edition)  finally gave me a chance to do some maintenance on my trusty Ole 72 walking stick. I purchased Ole 72 after a camping trip in Northern Michigan earlier this year at Leelanau State Park. The man that created the stick was selling it and its cousins out of the back of his pick-up on Hwy. 72 (thus the name I assigned my trusty companion). I had a great little chat with him. He's a Vietnam vet and carves and sells the sticks as a way to make a few extra bucks. The stick I was drawn to immediately was dark brownish red with a wolf carved in it near the top.

I made an agreement with pseudo-Geppetto. I would somehow make note of all the adventures I get in to over the next year on my stick and return to see him in a year to show him where we've been. Saturday night I added the badge for our quick hike at Effigy Mounds National Monument last week and carved the initials "JM" into Ole 72. JM is for Jerry McFadden, a wonderful man I met in the Boston store along the hike on the Towpath trail at Cuyahoga Valley National Park a few weeks back. Jerry was tending the store for the park and we had a great conversation. He is also a vet (Korea), and we shared stories about our families and nature and southern hospitality (Jerry had also served in my home state of Tennessee and had pulled a ruse over his superiors involving a trip to Cleveland, not Cleveland, to see his sweetheart).

Sunday (Ummm, that could've gone a little better)

Sunday in Denver was race day for Kalitta Motorsports and the rest of the NHRA Full Throttle Drag Racing Series. I really had a good feeling that we were going to have a great day on Thunder Mountain, but it didn't exactly turn out that way (for the team and for me). David Grubnic and Alexis DeJoria were both ousted in round one. Both Doug Kalitta and Jeff Arend made it to the second round of eliminations, but that's where the day ended for us. Drag racing can be a fickle mistress some days, but it's days like Sunday in Denver that make the wins that much sweeter. Hopefully we'll know that sweetness this weekend in Sonoma...and maybe even Seattle in two weeks.

Sunday didn't turn out to be a good day for me and the tent either. After I finished up my duties at the track, I went back to Camp Todd (Denver Edition) in hopes of relaxing and decompressing after an adventure-packed few days...recharge the batteries with a good night's sleep and then pack up camp and head out Monday for Cali. When I got to the campground, a storm had just passed and it must have been a good one. My tent has weathered heavy rain before with very little leakage...not this time. I had some damp possessions inside the tent. Nothing was soaked, but definitely damp and the skies were still ominous.

 

I started drying things out and got the feeling that I might be in for another heavy dose of dousing. The skies began to get darker and darker and then thunder and lightning joined the party. After about 7-8 seconds of pondering, I decided to pack up camp quickly and begin the second leg of the trek earlier than planned and get the heck out of dodge before I was blown to Oz!

With the Sequoia packed (embarrassed to say quite haphazardly), it was off to Cheyenne, Wyoming for the night. I stayed at an outstanding Candlewood Suites there. I know what you're thinking...I have to say it's an outstanding Candlewood Suites since they're a sponsor of our race team, but in this case I feel obligated to tell you that sponsorship or not, that was the best hotel room I've stayed in for a very long time.

Monday (Anyone have a pooper scooper handy for that horse?)

I took off Monday from Cheyenne with a destination of Salt Lake City, Utah to stop for the night. I was hoping that I could find a place to take a quick hike in Wyoming along the way and within a few miles that opportunity presented itself with Medicine Bow National Forrest.

 

Right off of I-80 was the Tie City Trailhead - Ahhh...perfect for a morning hike. I parked the Sequoia, changed in to my hiking shoes, grabbed Ole 72 and we were off. What a great trail! There were some ups and some downs and some rocks and some streams. The temperature was about 75 and there wasn't a mosquito in sight. I only went about three miles because I had another stop planned and didn't want to get in to SLC too late, but I could have hiked Tie City all day.

I had noticed Flaming Gorge (a rather unfortunate name) National Recreation Area on the map in Denver and knew that this was a place I needed to see along the way. After a FUN drive on a really curvy, hilly 191 South off of I-80, I reached the Flaming Gorge Dam after about an hour.

I spied a park map at the dam visitor center (I wanted so bad to ask one of the workers where I could buy some dam bait, but I digress) and found a place to hike - Red Canyon Rim Trail. I took 191 to Utah 44 (Flaming Gorge lies on the border of Wyoming and Utah) to the Red Canyon Visitor Center. I stopped in the center and met a great couple working there. They were originally from Michigan and just as nice as you can be. We talked about the Mitten State and walking sticks (they admired Ole 72 and showed me some they had carved) and I got their guidance on how to set about on a hike. They said the RCRT was rocky but relatively easy to navigate and went five miles. I had driven through some pretty heavy rain getting there and there looked to be some more coming according to the radar so I figured I could go out to the 2.5 mile mark before returning to be safe from any inclimate weather.

The trail had some tough terrain in spots but the view to my left along the rim was absolutely gorgeous (pun intended).

 

No words I can type here can explain just how beautiful Flaming Gorge is. The RCRT, as named, takes you along a great hike with stunning vistas (fancy word for views). It is a rocky trail. You definitely need hiking shoes/boots if you ever get a chance, and I STRONGLY suggest you do, to take on this trail. Another thing that this trail was "decorated" with was horse excrement (fancy word for poop), and I mean LOTS of horse poop. Fortunately there was plenty of room to maneuver around the unwanted nuggets and it didn't detract from one of the best hikes I've had to date.

After my five-mile journey, I made it back to the Visitor Center and the Sequoia just in time. The bottom dropped out of the sky just as I climbed in to my steed (sans poop). I plotted the GPS in the Sequoia toward the Candlewood Suites in Salt Lake City and took off.

Speaking of off...I gotta get going to Cali. Next time I will tell you about Tuesday and today and getting to check off an item on my life's to do list...here's a visual hint...

Talk to you again soon!

Todd has left the hotel.

You need a rake?! (Ouch, dude, that hurts!)

It's a Wild Life!

Howdy! It's Todd again, but you probably knew that since my name is in the blog title. It's another gorgeous day at Bandimere Speedway. It's hot, mind you, but the skies are decorated with an amazing shade of blue and not a cloud to be seen...so far. Our Kalitta Motorsports team had a decent day of racing yesterday. Doug Kalitta and the Technicoat Top Fuel dragster team led the way for Connie's disciples with an outstanding 3.925-second blast "Going the Grand". Now, for those of you that follow the NHRA Full Throttle Drag Racing Series religiously you know that a 3.92 is not usually a great mark on the time slip. But, if you do indeed have the "Nitro Gene" you also know that elapsed times and speeds up here on the mountain deviate from the norm because of the altitude and lack of oxygen.

You see, race cars like oxygen. It's a integral part of the combustion equation - fuel+air+spark=go fast. So, when we race in Denver the race cars gasp for every little bit of air they can get. Having a supercharger, like all nitro cars have, is a help, but it's still harder to make power at high altitude. All that being said, Doug and Technicoat boys were happy with their run last night.

Last night I got back to Camp Todd (Denver Edition) just before 10:00. I lit a campfire and went about relaxing and star gazing. The stars in Colorado always seem to be right on top of you. It seems as if you can reach out and steal one from their heavenly mounts. It didn't take long for the Sandman to come knocking at the tent flap and I put out the fire and went to bed, well, I thought I put out the fire...

I usually sleep with either earplugs in or my trusty headphones on with iPod attached. Last night it was the latter. Around midnight I was suddenly rousted from my slumber by "Amaryllis" by Shinedown (GREAT song and album of the same name...if you like rock and roll, go buy this record NOW!) and a tapping on my skull from outside the tent which turned out to be the butt end of a park ranger's flashlight. As it turned out he wasn't knockin' on my noggin to tell me he's a fan of my blog, but he was notifying me that I needed to get up and put out my fire. Now, it was out, or at least I thought it was, when I zipped up the tent and retired for the evening. Seems that the wind picked up a bit last night and got the embers aroused again and being the good park ranger that he is he noticed and brought the possibly dangerous situation to my sleepy attention. I grabbed a water jug and doused the stubborn red glow for the final time...this time there would be know doubt about the fire's demise as I dumped a full gallon of water on it in a moment of, "Oh yeah, Mr. Fire? Take this!"

When the alarm on my phone woke me for the second time this morning, I did not want to get up that time either. I was so comfortable. The sun was up but the air was just cool enough to make me not want to get out from under the covers. After lying there for a few minutes, I finally and very reluctantly tore myself away from my air mattress. I grabbed up some clothes and headed out of the tent in the general direction of the campground shower house (Note to Jeff Wolf, here is the part where I talk out showering at the campground). I was wiping the sleep away from my eyes and checking to see if I had enough quarters for the shower ($.50 for the first three minutes, $.25 for each additional 90 seconds is a pretty good deal for washing off campground) when I looked up to see a man and his son each walking a Beagle. I thought I heard the man say something about a rake to his son. I took another couple of steps forward before I realized that the man was actually talking to me and he wasn't saying rake - He was saying SNAKE!

This photo is only a dramatization of the snake I almost walked on. This is, however, very close to the size, shape, and surroundings of what I did see through my groggy peepers. Turns out (after doing some research online, of course, once I got to the race track), the approximately five-foot serpent in my path to the shower was a Pituophis catenifer deserticola, a.k.a. a Great Basin Gopher Snake. Neither one of us were happy to meet each other. He coiled up a bit and flattened his head like a rattlesnake, but unlike a rattler, he was all bark and no bite. The GBGS is a non-venomous critter, but still creepy and not something you want to see on your way to wash off creepy. I steered clear of the intruder and he did the same as we both went about our respective business.

I hear the unmistakable vocal tones of Bob Frey in the distant so that means day two of qualifying for the pro classes is starting. I'll have to wrap this blog up here and head off to the press room. Hopefully our cars will run well today!

Until next time...

Todd has left the hospitality trailer.