In our foray into rock hounding, we discovered Valles Mines, MO.  It lies down highway 55 south of Potosi, where developments and many signs of the city, that being Festus, come to an end.  Valles Mines, the Lost History Museum is home to many activities in which one can engage from morel mushroom hunting in the spring, metal detecting around the historic buildings, and our favorite, druzy quartz hunting.  You are encouraged to call first, and when you do you will reach the cell phone of a large man with a heavy drawl who showed up with his suspenders not holding his pants more than 2/3 of the way over his underside.  He calls it "prospecting" which sounds suitably old-timey.  When he took us in the museum which is like a frenetic pasting of articles on every wall and some American and Confederate flags commemorating who knows what, we saw one of the other staff members who I described as a cross-eyed Jesse James.  He was wearing a battered felt hat, had severely crossed eyes, missing teeth, no shirt, sitting in a rocking chair  with a dog at his feet like what you would see in a Norman Rockwell painting.  Very Missoura... They gave us city slickers a hard time for wearing masks.  The contrast between us and who thought who was more of a character was probably a toss up.

The museum consists of several historic buildings and the creek on which you can hunt for Druzy Quartz.  It feels like St. Louis/home because all of the buildings are in various stages of disrepair and abandoned.  I heard rumors the place was haunted. It looked like they were tearing the place apart, but the upstairs still had the quaint, creepy vibe suitable for a possessed doll.

​Another time we went, we were told that people have found medals and old coins around the buildings with metal detectors which is one of the services they charge for.  Thus far, we have searched for druzy quartz twice.  The first time we brought home a bunch of crap that barely sparkled not knowing what to look for.  We ended up taking a lot of that back where it came from.  The second time, we went on the east side of the creek and filled two buckets and a backpack as well as hauling a huge piece that took us an hour to unearth and all of it was the real deal, lots of round knobby pieces, more sparkly than a diamond.  Much of that was in plain view just barely hanging on to the creekbanks or under tree roots.  Some of it, we dug  and for once we found a piece or two that were pretty nice specimens. 

I keep telling Meg that we should start selling some, call it "Southern Fried Druzy Quartz because I greased the stones in oil to bring out the sparkle and get rid of chemical build up.  When you go prospect in that creek, it is like time stands still and treasures are everywhere for you to find with minimal effort.  You just need to be willing to stroll some and you will find all of the priceless beauty underneath...

OUr latest travel adventures have taken us to various mines across the country. Being out in nature with no one around for miles has been a nice way to get some exercise, connect with the outdoors, and find pretty things along the way. Once pandemic restrictions were limited and cases started to fall, we signed up for a group geode hunt near the Fox River in at the Missouri/Iowa line with some fellow rockhounds. We had never done anything like this before so it was quite an adventure. It was a lot more physically and environmentally intense than we would have imagined. It took us a few hours to drive to the location which was surrounded by Mennonite farms and dirt roads. We started our day trudging though poison ivy and slip sliding down steep muddy banks to get to the river below.

One thing I hadn't realized was that every place we go rockhounding, the terrain is very different. Sometimes you are prospecting in "tailings" or digging through mountains of clay and mud, other times you are marching through the woods or wading through a stream, but this time we were swimming in a river that at its steepest was maybe 8 feet deep with sand and rocks covering the bottom surrounded by woods on either side. It was hilarious at times to see our group of heads bobbing in the water with consternated faces like they were having a group poop experience in the river as we all felt for buried geodes with our feet. What are geodes? Geodes are rocks with treasures inside. If you get a good one, they are hallow in the center but filled with crystal quartz, chalcedony, calcite or other minerals. They are usually unusually round and often had little lumpy textures like a brain. To find them, we were told to look for ones that are unnaturally light for their size, which is easier said than done especially when they are large, or to make matters even more confusing if they are filled with water. Sometimes you get one that is completely filled with crystal on the inside called a nodule, but these are much harder to open. Trying to keep your body afloat while lifting giant rocks up with your feet is as difficult as you would imagine.

​WE combed the banks for fossils and other treasures in the shallows. Then came the challenging part of having to get our treasures back to camp. This meant the arduous task of wading upsteam against the current with large utility buckets filled with rocks. Did you know that buckets of rocks will float in the water? Yeah, me neither. Way cool and so helpful for getting them back to camp. There was a moment when I got lodged in the mud up to my knees and couldn't get unstuck without losing my shoes and I was having a full on Artax in the Swamp of sorrow flashback. My friend kept yelling Atreyu!!! (that's a Never Ending Story reference for those who missed out on a childhood).  
 
After we got back to camp we spent the evening cracking our geodes and oohing and ahhing over our finds. The friendly Mennonite neighbors came over in their horse and buggy to share some homemade treats and ice cream with freshmade strawberry syrup. Pumpkin bars and ice cream never tasted so good as they did after just having spent a day on the river. We set up our tents and joined each other around safely distanced around the campfire.  There were no facilities so us city slickers scampered back to town to wash up and get a full meal and use the restrooms. The path to camp, which was actually someone's private farm had big friendly dogs trailing us, was surrounded by tractors and dilapidated barns with weeds overgrowing them. I meant to stop and photograph, but was just too tired.  The dust and mild road hazards were palpable but added excitement.
 
The next morning we started out fresh when we hit the river again after communing with turtles and doggos. We were more focused on where to target our energies and were much more clear on what our target objects were. We continued the hunt and then had a geode smashing party. We decided rather than haul items that were unnecessary, we would bust them open on the beach and see what we had. Everyone was roaming the beach with their rockhammers or sledgehammers and chisels. Some of us just banged the rocks against others. Kinda cathartic, but also a tad too destructive for my taste. Not so much for Chris who appreciates that kind of thing.  What was revealed inside were some amazing sparkles and plenty of duds. Lots we couldn't get open and just tossed back. There were a couple small boats/kayaks to flaot the rocks back if we didn't want to carry them. Then we had to await the 4-wheeler to ship them back to us at camp. It was quite an adventure. We heard there was an annual Geodefest in the area in September. Hoping the pandemic will be kind enough to let us enjoy more rockhunting fun this summer.

One of the main recreational ways we have chosen to survive all this Covid business is to visit various mining sites for minerals and crystals.  We had bought a bit of gear 14 years ago when we lived in Los Angeles, but we only went to one site to dig for treasure, Lompoc, California.  At that time, we managed to find some pretty rocks of unknown identity and tumble them in my rock tumbler and get them smooth.  All of those tools and the rock polisher are/will soon be getting a workout.  What I like about mining in the age of the Coronavirus, is you largely have to see no one and can just go about your business and travel fairly guilt free since you will not be doing anything ill-advised when you arrive at your destination. 

Thus far, we have gone to Ron Coleman mine in the Hot Springs/Washatah National Forest area in Central Arkansas and Jacob's Geode mine in the Hamilton, IL area, a place known for Geodes that boasts a festival, a few rock shops and multiple mines.  Ron Coleman was a little bit of a challenge, largely because it pops up when you google Eureka Springs, AR which is actually nowhere near Jessieville where the mine is, another 3.5 hrs further south from St. Louis.  They had the rock shop on the main highway closed, but let you drive down the dirt road to the mine and pay a reduced fee of $10 to mine as much quartz as you want.  Because we had to drive so far, we had only an hr left, but we made it count.  We got lots of specimens large and small and managed to cover the inside of my car with orange clay dirt.  The biggest thing we got probably weighs 75 lbs and is adorning our garden as we speak.  We hope to go to the Crater of Diamonds and Twin Creek mine which are all in Arkansas as well in the near future.  Jacob's mine in IL is a wild and wooly place.  The rock shop and surrounding vicinity consist of dilapidated trailers, piles and rows of rusty junk and a truck to stash your $25 payment in for your 5 lb bucket of geodes.  You also have to drive over a creek to get to the dig site which was much easier to find than Ron Coleman's.  They let you borrow full-size pick axes so we got to feel like gold prospectors tearing down the excavated piles and chiseling into the cliff faces.  We found a large amount of geodes and felt we got our money's and time investment's worth.  They were especially plentiful in the piles that had been excavated and dumped in various places.  I hope that in addition to going to those other 2 places I mentioned, we can try panning for gold and beach treasure hunting with metal detectors in the next year or two  Will keep you updated...

​Nestled along the middle section of West Florissant as it winds up and out of North St. Louis City, Bellefontaine Cemetery is a one of a kind experience for the visitor.  They boast a variety of terrain, numerous species of award winning trees, numerous water features, and although we've never witnessed it, we're told, lots of wildlife.  If you choose, there are still many plots available among the tombs of explorers, beer barons, and city founders of our hometown.  These folks include beat author William S. Burroughs, members of the Lemp and Pabst family, and some of the Anheuser Busch family among others.  On a recent tour we were allowed inside the Lemp and Busch Mausoleums, which was nicer than most living people's homes.  We learned that it even had a heater system. We also spotted the Bissell plot, which we paired with a recent visit to the Bissell and Lemp Mansions. Bellefontaine Cemetery also hosts special events including Victorian burial reenactments by the Mourning Society and guided commentary on the diseases that prompted mass deaths.  As of this writing, Chris is actively considering being buried here as he is adulting and getting his affairs in order.  They are now featuring so called "green burial" where you are buried in a wicker basket with no embalming.  That is available in masse on a hillside facing the MS River and also throughout the Cemetery.  What I envision is my basket being brought down by 2-3 family members and doing an outdoor ceremony that includes releasing some pigeons.  Hope to have a guitar-playing friend or two play some Townes Van Zandt songs or Naked as We Came by Iron and Wine.  Gonna be a sad but grand affair...

From the time I first heard The Ventures song "Diamondhead" and saw the mountain in all it's grandeur on our various trips to Hawaii, I naturally wondered what being on top looking out would be like.  Little did I know that there was a well maintained stairstep trail leading up to the top.  Megan got to the bottom of that when we were there last spring and we decided to wing driving up there and trying to hike.  To start, I neither realized it was a volcano, or that it would be possible to get all the way to the top.  It is a journey of some miles, but the trail zig zags and is palatable to even the most out of shape person such as I am.  When we arrived, we were joined near the entrance by an elderly man who said he hiked it numerous times; makes a habit of it.  We found that they are not sticklers about the supposed closing time of the trail, and as long as you start by 430-ish and are gone by 630, you won't be locked in the tunnel by the roadcrew.  Like an act of divine intervention, there is a fabulous rustic smoothie, fruit drink, raw coconut stand when you pass the gate that I think everyone around us patronized.  Nectar of the gods.  The first part of the trail is gentle, but the second part is straight up and more taxing.  The view gets progressively more grand.  As we climbed, it was like that parable about blind men touching various parts of an elephant and not being able to say what it is, but getting to the top, one is treated to breathtaking panoramic views of Waikiki and the entire side of the island, and one also realizes that what you have been climbing is the side of a huge volcanic crater the entire time.  So, consequently, it is like the journey of a thousand miles starts with one step and you are already where you seek to be from the moment you start.  Best lazy person's hike I've ever done!

This year as we were planning our trip to Burningman I came across an interesting project called the Flybrary. It was a combination art, education, and social justice piece. The Human Library Project was started in Denmark in 2000 by journalist Ronni Abergel for "Stop the Violence" organization. The concept was to use living people instead of books, creating deep meaningful conversations to breakdown stereotypes and prejudice. The project now exists in 85 countries and describes itself as:

"The Human Library is an association which strives to create empathy, respect, and understanding for the diversity in society through our work. We do this, by creating a safe space for dialogue, where challenging and taboo subjects can be discussed in the open without being condemned. A place where people who otherwise would never meet nor talk, can find room for conversation. A place, where ​the reader ​ can sit down with a complete stranger, who are volunteering to answer questions about being homeless, a refugee, bisexual, Muslim, handicapped, HIV+, or a police officer. A place, where the reader can ask honestly, and get an honest answer from the people who are living the life themselves."

As a personal passionate about social justice, ending interpersonal violence, global peace, bringing together community, and having deep discussions, this place seemed perfect for me. The added bonus was that this year it would be at burningman, on the playa (the big desert we call home) with an art piece to go with it. 

Through the process of interviews, applications, and trying to properly hone my book title, I was able to solidify my plans. Of course, its Burningman, so nothing really goes as planned, but you learn to be flexible, make changes, and somehow thing work out. My first glimpse of the "Flybrary" was at night. It was stationed close to "The Man," a huge statuesque human head with books flying out of the head like a flock of birds being set free.  People were gathered around in awe.

When I found my way there in daylight after passing through several clouds of duststorms on my decorated bike, I learned you could climb inside the sculpture and read some of the highly curated books residing inside. I got myself checked in and waited to be checked out. It didn't take long. Readers could check me out for up to 30 minutes before returning me to the library. I had several really great readings, each selecting a different title of my book to read initially. 

I ended up meeting some really cool human books, librarians, curators, and readers. It was such a unique experience to sit under the blazing hot sun in the middle of the desert laying bare your most intimate and vulnerable aspects of yourself for a stranger in hopes that they will truly see the person in front of them and not the box they created in their mind.  Each sharing experience was different. The books were about Survivors of suicide, Immigrants, Atheists, Domestic Partnerships, Lesbians, African Americans, Multi-racial individuals, Polyamory, growing up Mormon, and perceptions of "the pretty girl" to name a few. ​Each story I heard was unique and of course everyone looked friggin fabulous even covered with mountains of dust and dirt. Fascinating to hear the stories of peoples lives and the complexities of their journeys. I hope someday you have the opportunity to unjudged someone.

You can read or watch more videos about the human library here:
 Ronni Abergel (Co-founder) doing a Ted Talk about the HL https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZmEqksaEVU
2. HL being conducted at the University of Fairfield, US. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjFHlR5DmJk 
3. HL described in 1 minute! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCGBXKy4Wuk 
Instagram for the International Human Library: https://www.instagram.com/humanlibraryorganization/

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be on an island full of cats? Well, then you need to start planning a trip to Lana'i. Just a short ferry ride from Maui in the Hawaiian islands will get you to the place of your dreams.

First thing you need to know about planning your trip to Lana'i is that you need to book your ferry a couple days in advance on Expedition Maui-Lanai Ferry. Tickets run round $30 each way. There is a small boat harbor in Lahaina, Maui and you can park your car for around $12 a day (honor system) a few blocks away. 

We were camping in Olawalu, so we had a short drive to the harbor. We enjoyed a nice ferry ride across the ocean while we tried to spot some end of season whales, but didn't have any luck. The views were still lovely and it was a nice 45 minute ride. 

Upon arriving on the Lana'i there were several people gathered at the ferry docks offering ride service around the island. We got the last couple seats on Rabaca's shuttle service and for $10 each got a guided tour of the city on the way to the Lana'i cat sanctuary. I read that there were not too many other stops in Lana'i beyond Sweetheart rock and the daily car rentals were pricey, so we opted for the shuttle. I read you could get around for free, but we never figured that out.

Once you get to the cat sanctuary you will find a gated entrance where they gather everyone together before signing you in.  Access is free, but donations are encouraged. They have bags of cat treats at the door to give them if you did not bring your own. 

As soon as you open the gate to walk in there is a swarm of dozens of cats that immediately approach and start begging for treats. Some like to be petted, some don't. Some prefer pets to treats. The sanctuary is a large outdoor gated enclosure on a wide swatch of green grass with trees and plants growing around. There are separate sheltered buildings for the cats to feed, or hide if they prefer. The shier or more feral kitties seem to stick to the far back of the enclosure where there is more tall brush to hide in and things to crawl under away from the human visitors.  They have separate enclosure for the senior kitties, kittens, and sick kitties with feline FIV. We made sure to spend time with all of them.  Everywhere you looked there were kitties, in the trees, in the grass, on the tables, in your lap. It was awesome.  We stayed there for about 4 hours, partially hiding out from the rain by putting down a towel and letting the kitties flock to us. It was such a great way to sped the day.

​They said there were currently 620 cats at the sanctuary, all from Lana'i alone. I was sad to hear they were euthanizing the cats on the other islands, especially after seeing all the cats at the park in Oahu a couple years ago and loving the experience so much, but when we went back this year there were no cats there at all.  They said they do adoption and even in-house adoptions, where they are adopted, but live in the sanctuary. Honestly, it doesn't seem like a bad life for a cat. I had a couple snugglers that I would have adopted if the 12 hour trip home wouldn't be so awful and stressful on a poor kitty.

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After Chris brought out the hook to drag me away, we finally left and caught a ride with the car service back to Lana'i city where we had lunch and explored the town's art gallery and art co-op. 

When I was about 10 years old my 13 years old brother and I were wandering the beaches in Florida a few weeks after a hurricane behind rows of private beach houses. We were the only one's around for miles. The beach was littered with all kind of debris and dead sea creatures. We were looking for shells and picking up sand dollars. There was so much gross stuff every now and then I would let out a yelp. My ankles were cut and bleeding from the various things in the water as I waded in the shallows. At one point my thoughts about the pretty shells were interrupted when I heard a splashing. I looked up and saw about 10 feet in front of me was a large shark, thrashing it's fins and jaws. It appeared to have been coming toward me, but got stuck on the sand bar.  You know those old road runner cartoons that show the person frozen with fear? Yeah, that was me. It was a for real thing.  I grew up in the era of Jaws, like so many of us Gen X and Y-ers, the impact was indelible. I stood there in 8 inches of ocean water staring at the shark, completely paralyzed. I couldn't move or speak. Finally, I was able to get the powers of speech back to try to get my brother's attention and repeatedly called out his name, but like Chicken Little who cried wolf one too many times, he ignored my cries.  He finally did look up to see the shark, to which he enthusiastically responded "It's a porpoise! It's a porpoise!"  And at that very moment our mom appeared several hundred feet behind us from between two houses on stilts shouting "Get out of the water! It's a shark! Get out of the water!" Like the cartoons, the frozenness melted from my body almost like a switch being turned on to wake my body back up and I immediately  turned and sprinted from the water up the hill and into my grandparents awaiting RV as fast as my skinny little legs could carry me.  We got some binoculars and a camera and headed back to the beach, at which point you could see there were actually multiple sharks in the water coming in to feed. 

Decades later I find myself helping people to overcome the impact of traumatic experiences in their life on a daily basis. I understand how when faced with something terrifying, your body may not respond the way you wish it would or they way others think it should.  If you've been reading our blog, you probably noticed that fear is not something that holds us back much on our travel adventures and I always wondered how I would do if faced with a shark again.  So, naturally shark cage diving had been on my bucket list for years and Hawaii gave us the perfect opportunity to try it out.

On our first day in Hawaii I made reservations with North Shore Shark Diving Adventures, but the trip was postponed due to weather. In the meantime, we decided to hit up our favorite snorkeling spot on the North Shore, Pupukea, also known as Shark's cove. One of the other snorkelers told us he spotted a reef shark just outside of the cove, where the tide water rushed in. The tide was already coming in and the water wasn't very calm anyway, so the current was strong, but we swam out anyway and clung to the rocks at the edge of the cove to keep from being blown like a fire hose into the water, and sure enough there was a white tipped reef shark, maybe about 5 feet long, swimming in circles below us.  Later research told us this is a pretty harmless shark that feeds from the bottom of the ocean. We didn't know that at the time, but I suppose we still felt the security of the rocks that surrounded us. Seemed pretty crazy to be open water snorkeling with a shark, especially since we would be paying to do that in a few days.

After that, I wondered if we should still do that cage dive, but the bucket list was calling, so we plowed ahead. We met up at our harbor meeting point, took a boat with our fellow divers and dive masters out into the ocean about 3 miles off the coast of Hawaii. They told us that the sharks follow the shrimp boats for chum and since they think we are a shrimp boat, they come when they hear the similar engine. The thing about Hawaii is the water is pure blue, almost like glass that you can see through on a clear day, so when we got out there, you could see these massive Galapagos sharks swimming all around the boat. You could see their fins come up and you could see them dive beneath the water. We were surrounded by them. These sharks were about 10 feet long, and are labeled "aggressive."  These guys looked like JAWS and wow, it was awesome, so of course we were getting in the water with them! We threw on our snorkels, climbed into the cage, jumped into the water and watched mesmerized as these ocean beasts circled us. Their eyes were like a cats staring back at us. When one would disappear into the depths another would appear in its place.  I'm very buoyant and short, so I can't reach to stand on the cage bars, which is pretty apparent and less than graceful in the video. HAHA. A very cool experience. Turns out, despite my early experience, I did just fine overcoming those once paralyzing fears. Hope you get a chance to try it for yourself. Even if you pee your pants, no one will notice it!  Thanks to North Shore Diving Adventures for some of the videos and the great memories! You should check them out (no, they aren't paying us, they don't even know we have a blog, we just really liked them). In the end, we didn't become the chum, but checked off another one from the bucket list!
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When Megan is at her advocacy conference at the Holiday Inn in Columbia, MO, one of the things I like to do there is have the in-house shoe shine person, Sharon (who calls her business "Shines by Sharon") shine at least one pair of my boots or shoes. She does a fantastic job, is a great conversationalist and an interesting person. She is an African-American woman who grew up on a farm in Booneville, has a thicker twang than most of the other locals do out there, and has been shining shoes for some crazy amt of years, I had to wait because a man with ostrich cowboy boots snuck in while I was getting cash to pay her. She remembered me and Megan who waited with me, like she always does. This time, I had her work on a pair of boots that are still dusty from Burning Man, and she was telling me about the Midland Truck stop at exit 121 on Highway 70. She said that the man with the cowboy boots has been coming to her since 1987 when she first started shining shoes at the truck stop station. She said that, back then, it was quite a place. It had a bar and grill with live music, her shining shoes and an antique mall out back. She said it was recently featured on a travel program even though it is not as snazzy as it used to be. I decided to go a little out of our way to get gas there.
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There were two stations that could have qualified as what she described. The second was a three pump deal with a tiny station and hole in the wall truck stop restaurant called the Perche Creek Café aka Perche Creek Yacht Club. The parking lot was filled with probably 30 pick up trucks, that we determined were all patronizing the restaurant. I talked Megan into eating there, and she only grumbled a little about the adventures I take her on. It was everything someone like me likes about a truck stop restaurant: lots of fried stuff, tasty fresh pies, people coming in straight from doing things like laying pipe and hunting deer, and great service. I had handmade and breaded chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, the best green beans I've had in years, and lemon merengue pie. Megan had a three cheese grilled cheese with cottage cheese. They had a heated case of cinnamon rolls behind the register and Megan got one for her desert on the way out. She said it was great. Will definitely go back. Now my favorite restaurant in Columbia...

My dad was huge Sci-fi fan, so I grew up watching lots of Star Trek,  X-Files, and Alien shows and movies...generally ok with lots of weird. Naturally, visiting Roswell and Area 51 would have to make out travel lists, right?

I think we actually ended up stumbling on them more by accident than any well researched plans, but that is how some of the best adventures begin.

We ended up in Roswell a few years ago and really got a kick out of the alien-themed town more than anything. It was a small, dusty, run down little city in New Mexico, that if it weren't for the Aliens, it would not have much to show for itself.  Just about every establishment there capitalized on the alien abduction/area 51 theme in some way from museums, to a McDonalds play place covered in alien stickers.  We went to the big alien museum and ate at the alien café and walked around looking for an suspicious creatures...we were pretty much it.  The alien museum had displays full of newspaper clippings, conspiracy theories, various UFO objects, and an alien research library.  As near as we could tell, the party line is that the supposed ufo sighting there was actually some sort of weather device with a foil component that crashed in the desert.  The best part was the photo ops. 

We also noticed this place called the Pizza Barn as we passed thru Roswell again recently that had lots of aliens on the signs and an alien green chili themed pizza. So delicious!

While we are on the subject of brothels, turns out this stretch of highway is a menagerie of weird and sex trafficking profiteering.  We also happened upon an abandoned brothel with an abandoned crashed plane covered in fabulous anti-establishment bumper stickers. Best random roadside find ever.   Chris took a large piece of barbed wire from in front of the fence to use as a marker at our Burning Man campsite.

While we are on the subject of weird and things related to bedroom activities...let's talk about the Clown Motel. Yes, the place where dreams and nightmares come true. A clown-themed motel just a wee ways down the road from the alien brothel. On each door there was a different clown. Despite all the fanfare, for some reason it did not appear to be in high demand at the moment. We were disappointed we did not have time to stay to tell you what lies beyond the doors. Maybe next time. What do you think, Would you book a stay?

PSA: If you know someone who is being sex trafficked or you think you are, contact the National Sex trafficking hotline at  1888-373-7888. If you need help for sexual assault, contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1800-656-4673. WWW.RAINN.org also has a lot of resources to help survivors.

If you would like to make a donation to support survivors of sex trafficking, domestic violence and sexual assault, here is a link for donating to your local YWCA.