CLASSIC TRIP - Montana and Yellowstone 2002, Part 1

A Montana Collage - Gallatin National Forest

Be careful what you wish for, right?  My wife wanted to really get away (we were having our kitchen remodeled and we were stressed) so I found what, so far, has been the most out-of-the-way and as-far-away-from-civilization accessible lodging in the country - 14 miles from the nearest town and 7 miles from the nearest paved road...the last mile was the driveway into the lodge.  She also had never been to Yellowstone so we put together this trip.  So let's go back to 2002, shall we?

Right up front, let's just say that you need a little extra determination to get here and then get around...especially if you use a wheelchair for mobility.

The state's major airports at Bozeman, Billings, and Helena just don't show up on major airlines radar screens so direct flights from most of the country is not an option. What flights you do find are not going to be cheap. Once you arrive, accessible public transportation will be a challenge to find as will accessible van rentals.

We decided to drive. From L.A., this is not a quick and easy road trip especially if you have trouble sitting in the car for long spells. After 3 nights on the road, we were finally at our destination....Big Timber, Montana, about 50 miles east of Bozeman. We needed some time to just not drive any more.

Researching for a place to stay yielded the Burnt Out Lodge, a bed and breakfast run by Ruth Drange on her family's cattle and sheep ranch. The lodge is accessible with three ramps leading into the building. The area around it is not, so you will need your own private van or car to get there.

The reason you need your own ride is because it is remote. In fact, for a wheeler, I cannot think of a more remote accessible accommodation that I have ever come across. The lodge is located at the farthest reach of the three thousand acre ranch abutting the Gallatin National Forest.

Only 7 Miles to go to the Burnt Out Lodge

To get there, you first drive seven miles beyond Big Timber. Then, it is up six miles of dirt road to the first gate. Someone must get out of the car to open the gate (an attendant here is really necessary for all but the most hardy wheelers), drive through, return to close the gate lest any cows escape the ranch. One more mile of bumpy road is necessary to navigate before you reach the lodge building where one more gate must be opened and closed.

It takes a pretty major effort just to get here.

Once here, it is pretty easy to go up a ramp into the building and into your room. The lodge has a vast open public area with a two story fireplace to warm up at. Five rooms are all on the first floor and each will allow access for a wheelchair easily. One room in particular has been built with bars for the toilet and bathtub for access. There is no roll-in shower, however. Plastic chairs are available for use as bathing chairs.

The View from the Room

We stayed in the accessible room, although as the only guests at the inn Ruth offered us our choice of any room. The room is huge and very open and airy. A twenty foot ceiling reinforces that feeling. It is furnished sparsely with just a bed, two night stands, a small table and two chairs. It was sparkling clean and comfortable, but it does take a bit of getting used to.

Our first day had started in West Yellowstone, Montana after we had stopped there for the night. Along the way to Big Timber, we stopped at Nevada City, a recreated Ghost Town where authentic buildings had been moved to from other areas. It was a quiet and not unpleasant stop but not exactly enthralling either.

In Big Timber, we had dinner at Prospector Pizza in a pretty little downtown area before bedding down for the night at the Burnt Out Lodge. We saw dozens of deer along that 7 mile access road up to the lodge.

After sleeping pleasantly in our large room with all the windows and the front door open (great things to do when you're several miles from the nearest road), we had our breakfast and decided to do a little sight seeing.

This morning, that would entail heading up the Boulder River valley from Big Timber. We stopped when we got to Natural Bridge.

A short hike lead us to a bridge and several viewing platforms built into the rock. The paths are accessible but be careful of the hundred foot drop off of the sides when heading to the platforms. The bridge path is not as scary.

From the bridge and the platforms, you can see the natural bridge when the water level is low, as it was when we visited in July. In a spectacular display, the river drops down a hole and travels about one hundred yard before emerging from a shear cliff face.

When the water level is higher, the hole is underwater and the river flows over the natural bridge but you can still see the other waterfall emerging from the hole in the cliff.

After our tour up the valley, we headed back to Big Timber. It was over one hundred degrees when we hit town so we decided to spend the afternoon in the community pool. A buck fifty was all it took to get all three of us in where we lounged around for an hour and a half...until the lifeguard's shrill whistle told everyone to immediate evacuate the pool. A thunderstorm was approaching fast.
 
We took quick shelter in the small pool house where I took the opportunity to give Tim a shower in the only roll-in shower we would see in Montana. Now that's what I call thinking on my feet!

We changed back into our street clothes and headed out of town. The rain had let up enough so that we could visit Prairie Dog Town State Park. This is a small area set aside for these large, barking rodents where you can see them in a wild setting to your heart's content. Outside the park's perimeter, the critters are fair game for the farmers and ranchers who shoot these animals as pests when they see them.

A shower and a nap back at the lodge refreshed us and we headed back into town for dinner at the City Club, a combination steakhouse, bowling alley (six lanes!), bar, and casino. We had some delicious Montana steaks...better than the steaks we payed three times as much for on the way home in Las Vegas.

The town turns in pretty early and try as we might, we couldn't find too much to do after 7:30pm. We missed the only showing (7:00) at the local theater but we'd already seen Lilo 'n Stitch back home. A trip back to the lodge where we could reach out and pat a cow's behind as we drove by was in order.

Another night with the fresh Montana air wafting through the room and we were ready to tackle another day. After breakfast, we drove fifty miles to Bozeman to visit the Gallatin County Fair's opening day.

This is a very small fair where everybody was giving out freebies or samples. Everybody had candy bowls out for quick little nibbles. A local political group opposed to an upcoming ballot measure gave us a huge sports cup (with their logo on it, natch) filled with ice cold water with a local chiropractor matching that with a big bottle of spring water out of an ice bucket...perfect for the 105 degree day.

A few local sportmen's groups filled our bag with free fishing tackle...lures and bobbers. A candy maker threw in some free samples of fudge. A local mine even gave us some raw rocks that they grind into talc...along with ruler, pens, pencils. Another local politician running for office gave out free American flags.

We were in hog heaven with all the goodies and we got to see all kinds of livestock and eat that great, greasy fair food while watching some country and western concerts. It was a great day and we met a lot of friendly local folks.

After the fair we ate dinner at McKenzie River Pizza in the beautifully restored downtown area of Bozeman, where some workers recognized us from the fair earlier. It was good pizza and even better beer.

Tonight would be our last night at the lodge. We had one more open-air night before our last breakfast with Ruth.

A deer walked by one foot outside the dining room window while we at our morning meal and a marmot rooted around outside. Before it got too cute, Ruth whispered to us that the marmot was a pest and she would have to shoot it if it returned. Ah, the ways of the Montana cattle ranch life.

Stay tuned for part 2...Yellowstone!

-Darryl
Copyright 2002 - Darryl Musick

ADVENTURES CLOSE TO HOME: Billy at the Lake

It was a tradition when I was in high school and college to get as many friends together as we could, rent a condo, and spend spring break skiing up at Lake Tahoe.  We'd negotiate the fresh and packed powder at places named Squaw, Heavenly and Kirkwood as well as pocket size slopes at Sierra Ski Ranch and Slide Mountain to name just a few.

Our days were filled on the slopes and our nights were filled with debauchery at the local casinos.

A week later, and we'd just go home and sleep for a few days.

One night, we decided to hit the casino. The motels up there had lots of freebie coupons that we'd use. I had one for a free spin on a big slot machine, which won me a roll of quarter ($25, I believe).

 
I went to the nearest roulette wheel and put it all on black. It won. I stayed and was having tremendous luck. My friends, tired out after the day of skiing, drifted back to the cheapo motel we were staying at nearby to go to bed. My luck hadn't changed, so I stayed where I was.

It was a pretty magical night of gambling at the roulette table. I just wasn't losing. Finally, around 11:00, I made on last bet and said win or lose, this is it. I won again. Around $400 in chips were sitting in front of me. I made my way over to the cashier cage, stopping at a wheel of fortune table where I put a dollar on the 40-to-1 spot. Won again.

I was done gambling but I was too amped up to call it a night. Billy Preston was playing a midnight show in the lounge.

I ran back to the room, woke up all the guys, and told them I'm treating them to a show. A few grumbles but our philosophy was to come up here and not leave any regrets. They came along and we went to the show.

At midnight, the lounge was empty, save for the table with my friends and I and a couple at another table...six people altogether. The announcer came on for what we thought would be a cancellation of the show but, to our pleasant surprise, he introduced Billy Preston.

Picture courtesy of Wikimedia

Heinrich Klaffs under CC BY-SA 2.0 license

Mr. Preston came out and if he had any shock or dismay at the tiny audience, he never let on. Just him and his keyboard, no band, he proceeded to sing the daylights out of that room.  Didn't matter if there were 6,000 or only 6...he played the same way.

'Nothing from Nothing,' 'Will It Go Round in Circles,' a whole lot of Beatles tunes (Preston was with them on a lot of their recordings), and...at one point, because he was a preacher at the time...he said "I hope I can just play one song only for you to show you where I am"...and sang a lovely rendition of 'How Great Thou Art'

He was happy, gregarious, and made sure each and every one of the six souls in the room that night had an absolutely great time. By the end, we'd felt we'd been at Billy's house where he regailed us with tales and songs all night long.

I was sad when I learned that the demons had come back and claimed his life but that night I became a Billy Preston fan for life.

Darryl
Copyright 2015 - Darryl Musick
All Rights Reserved

Classic Trip: Brothels, Casinos, and the Basque...House Hunting in Nevada's Carson Valley

(Please read our Covid 19 Statement first - Ed)  Letty and I both grew up watching "Bonanza" in our childhood years. Who wouldn't want to live on the Ponderosa? Now, we're in the real-life location of that fictional ranch and one question bothers me...with Carson City being closer to their house, why did the Cartwright men spend so much time in farther-away Virginia City than in the closer, and bigger, state capitol.

This morning will be occupied by "business"...we're up here to investigate if it is a place we'd want to retire to. Specifically, we're looking at the area in the south end of the Carson Valley...around Gardnerville and Minden...to see if that's where we'd want to spend the rest of our lives after I retire.

Watch the Video!

The pros are good housing prices, low taxes, and country living are the draws.   We're playing house hunters, with three houses lined up to look at and see if we like what's in our price range.

House #1 on a 5 acre spread is too far back up towards Topaz Lake and has evidence of a large, recent wildfire on the hillside across the highway.

House #2 is nice, on a half-acre lot in Gardnerville near the country club but the street around it is not as nice.

House #3, across from the golf course club house looked good on paper but was pretty miserable in person.

Along with the 10-hour drive to see our families, pretty crushing traffic (due to only one main highway in the area) for a fairly rural area, a pretty desolate feel, and loss of California benefits for Tim, we decide to cross the Carson Valley off of our retirement list.

We'll pick that baton back up in a few days when we cross back over the mountains to our home state but, now, we're free agents...ready to explore the area as travelers.

Back up and around Carson City, we head over to Virginia City. Make sure you have a strong engine if you plan to take the shortest route up with a harrowing 15% grade. Easy parking is hard to find, so I relent and pay $6 to park in the Delta Saloon's (home of the "world famous suicide table") lot.

It's like Tombstone, set in the mountains. An old west town, where open-carry is a way of life (many of these costumed, and armed, men are also security guards at the local casinos so I don't know how many of these are props or real).

The hilly geography means wheelchairs are like rollercoasters on the undulating boardwalks. Tim has a few exciting moments where the wood meets the pavement.

It's chilly, so we retire to the Delta's casino with a cup of coffee an see the suicide table while feeding pennies to the slot machines.  After, we head down the street to enjoy some baked goods and the hundred mile view out behind the coffeehouse we're in.

A little window shopping later and we're heading down the hill.

Just for the heck of it, we drive through the Bunny Ranch brothel's parking lot to snap some photos and video (we're, by far, not the only ones).  I offer to drop Tim off and pick him up later but he declines...

While illegal in Vegas, brothels are legal in much of the rest of the state and several are out here east of the Capitol. Some innkeepers have told us of mild-mannered guests to their facilities who come up here just to tour these houses of ill repute.

Enough of that, after an afternoon break at the hotel, it's off to the "Biggest Little City In The World," Reno, to have some dinner.

While we could have a cheap spread at one of the local casinos, we opt instead for a delicious Basque meal in this Basque country.  The Santa Fe Hotel, an historic shepherd's boarding house that's surrounded on three sides by the massive Harrah's complex, will be the destination for tonight. We're a little early...the bar opens at 5, dinner is served at 6, and it's 4:30.

An hour is killed by going to a local pawn shop and then the Cal Neva casino at the end of the block where Tim wins $10 on the penny slots and $25 for me on the quarter machines.  Just enough to have a picon punch before dinner.

We strike up a nice, long conversation with the bartender at the Santa Fe (she's also a speech therapist so we have some common ground here and there) while waiting for the dining room to open.

The Santa Fe is a true, oldschool, Basque restaurant meaning that you don't get a table to yourself. We sit at a table made for at least eight wth a couple of gentlemen from the area joining us in a lively, talkative dinner of soup, salad, sausage, cheese, bread, wine, steaks, and fries.

It's an experience you won't get at a casino buffet and the price is not all that different.

(Note: It appears that the Santa Fe Hotel has been a victim of the pandemic and permanently closed althought their website is still live and their Facebook page still lists opening hours - Ed)

Appetites sated, we say goodbye to our dinner companions, our new friends in the bar, and the city of Reno itself as we retire to the Homewood Suites to rest up for our drive over the Donner Pass tomorrow.

Darryl
Copyright 2014 - Darryl Musick
All Rights Reserved

Photos by Letty Musick
Copyright 2014 - All Rights Reserved

LAUGHLIN, NEVADA - Part 2

We've been spending a couple of days in Laughlin, Nevada on the Colorado River next to Bullhead City, Arizona. See Part 1 of this report here.

The morning dawns bright here in Laughlin. Our room faces west, so we don’t get the sunrise there plus the heavy duty black out curtains make is seem like midnight until I crack them open a bit to see the sunshine.

Watch the Video!

The family crew slowly rises to meet the day. It’s breakfast at the Riverview Café, pretty much the best food we’ll find this weekend, and then off to the riverfront behind the hotel.

The USS Riverside offers narrated 90 minute cruises several times a day. We’re catching the 10:30 cruise, the first one offered. It’s ramped and wheelchair accessible, though only the interior cabin can be reached with a chair. Large windows there offer good views and the restrooms on board are not accessible…go before you go.

The cruise itself is a relaxing voyage about a mile north of the hotel to Davis Dam, which holds back Lake Mojave on the other side. Near the dam, we see a wheelchair accessible fishing platform jutting into the river on the Arizona side.

After the dam, the cruise goes south of Laughlin to the end of casino row before doubling back to the Riverside Hotel.

We take a drive over the bridge to Bullhead City to do a little shopping and to get some cheap gas. Today, it’s about 50 cents a gallon cheaper on the Arizona side than in Nevada and even more than that compared to California stations down in Needles.

Upon return, we’re up in our room, changing into our swim suits. Our big event this weekend is the Vince Gill concert that will be taking place in the resort’s temporary amphitheater.

The venue is actually some bleachers and folding chairs set up around a stage on the top level of the parking structure across the street. We called ahead and got seats stage right in the third row.

Looking out our windows, we can see the theater across the street. Viewing through binoculars, I see a tall man in a red polo shirt walking in. It’s the headliner, Vince Gill.

Taking a few minutes to see what’s going on, the band takes the stage and goes into their sound check for the evening concert. Opening the window, we can hear as well as see it and are treated to a little mini concert of about 5 songs.

After that, we head to the pool for a little relaxing.  It’s not too relaxing as the water is freezing.

I grab a pizza from the Pizza Hut in the lobby. We eat a little lunch and then Tim and I lose a few dollars at the roulette table while Letty shops.

Later, we go down for a pre-concert dinner. The fans have arrived and the lines stretch out of the Riverview Café and the buffet. Instead, we head upstairs to the Gourmet room… a very nice and expensive spot for dinner…where we dine on happy hour appetizers and have a few drinks.

After dinner, we walk over the bridge to the show. Wheelchair users get priority for the elevator. We have to wait about three loads before we can go up and get to our seats.

Our seats are very close to the stage, although some scaffolding provides minor blocking issues for Tim and me. Letty has an unobstructed view from her seat. We’re even closer to backstage…just an area cordoned off with a small barrier…where we see Mr. Gill getting ready to take the stage.

The show starts and off we go. It’s a very good concert, suffice it to say we’re big fans of Vince, and he plays his heart out for the crowd.

Security here isn’t so strict that they won’t let you take a picture so we get a few…

After the show, we’re able to meet some of the band and then Vince Gill himself.

All-in-all, completely worth it to come out here in the middle of the desert just to see a concert.

The next morning, we have one more breakfast at the Riverview and set out across the desert for the long trip home. Not wanting to hit all the tourists returning from Las Vegas on a Sunday afternoon in Barstow, we detour down Route 66, Amboy, and 29 Palms before joining Interstate 10 near Palm Springs  and going home.

Stay tuned for our Route 66 photo essay as we wrap up our journey.

Darryl

Copyright 2011 – Darryl Musick

All Rights Reserved

LAUGHLIN, NEVADA - Part 1

The hottest day in my life. On the border of Nevada and Arizona. 128 degrees farenheit (that’s a little north of 53 for my European friends).

We were lucky, we had a boat and could jump in the water at any given moment. The can of soda I left in the car wasn’t so lucky…it exploded and I had a sticky, sweet, gooey mess to clean up.

Fortunately, on this trip, the highest we’d see was 87. The weather was gorgeous the entire trip to Laughlin this time.

Watch the Video!

Named after the owner of the Riverside Resort, Don Laughlin…who sparked a boom here back in the 60’s and 70’s...the town is like the little sister to Las Vegas and about 90 minutes away.

Not trading on the hedonistic reputation of that big city, instead, Laughlin portrays itself as a casual, laid back outpost along the Colorado River. A half-dozen casino resorts line the riverbanks with another, the Tropicana, across the street in the desert.

Our home for this trip would be the original resort, the recently mentioned Riverside Resort at the north end of town.

Laughlin got its start here with a small hotel and casino. There was no road access from the nearest town of any size, Bullhead City across the river, so Mr. Laughlin set up a free ferry service to bring gamblers across the river to his casino.

In the years since, he’s paid for a bridge to span the river next to his hotel making road access a breeze but, in a nod to the past, the ferries still run today. They make for quite a little thrill ride as the operators are intent on making the crossing as quickly as possible.

Today, the expanded resort has over 1,400 rooms and over 700 camping spaces. Along with three casinos (one non-smoking and another across the street), the complex features several restaurants ranging from fast food (Pizza Hut) to diner to buffet to gourmet (The Gourmet Room). There’s a bowling alley; a 6-screen movie theater; concert hall; nightclub; several bars; spa; dance studio; bingo hall; several shops; riverboat cruises; post office; two car museums; and two pools.

The rooms are pretty basic. Maybe just a notch above a TraveLodge. Ours was a two queen room…if those were queen size, I’m George Clooney…with an accessible bathroom featuring a roll-in shower. We had to call housekeeping to bring us soap and shampoo…asking other guests and seeing online reviews, this seems par for the course here. It took the bell service 40 minutes to bring our bags, which still beats the over-an-hour wait we had at the Mandalay Bay in Vegas.

Not the plushest room in the land but it would do. The rate was $69 which is a little more than usual in Laughlin, primarily because of the weekend’s headliner, Vince Gill, would be drawing in thousands of people.

Settled in (finally), we head downstairs where I ask a few shopkeepers and security guards where they like to eat around here. The consensus seems to be the diner, Riverview Café, so we head there and have a pretty darn good supper sitting in front of giant windows with spectacular river views. Prices were pretty reasonable too.

After dinner, we take a quick walk along the riverfront and explore the hotel. Past the bowling alley is a bridge across to the other casino across the street. Upstairs, we visit one of the two car museums here.

There are some very cool cars, motorcycles, and even some antiques gaming tables. A few are even for sale.

An AMX over there, a Studebaker here, and old Chrysler Imperial down that aisle…all stunningly restored.

They do have some competition the next morning when a car club mainly consisting of replica Cobras shows up in the parking lot.

Along with the snakes are a couple of Lamborghini Dinos, one of which followed us into Laughlin yesterday. A couple of owners show us around with pride.

We have a little shopping to do, not enough pillows in the room and we forgot to bring extras, so we’ll cross the river to WalMart, and then get ready for our big event of the weekend.

Stay tuned for that in part 2 of this report.

Darryl

Copyright 2011 – Darryl Musick

All Rights Reserved

French Riviera

We’re a bit nervous. For some strange reason, I took the bait and bought airline tickets that would give the three of us, including Tim in the wheelchair, a scant 45 minutes to change planes here in Munich smack in the middle of the World Cup crowds coming to the airport (Germany was host to the event in 2006). We are told that would have to include going to the terminal and going through passport control.

Our plane is parked far away from the terminal, at the outer reaches of the apron, with about a dozen other aircraft. How are we ever to pull this off?

We’ve already been traveling 20 hours. A twelve hour flight from Los Angeles, a brain-deadening six hour layover at Heathrow, now arriving on Lufthansa in Munich with another 90 minute flight to go to Nice. We’re tired and now worried we’ll be delayed even further when 45 minutes just won’t be enough.

But wait…

Two very nice German gentlemen meet us on the plane. They carry Tim down the stairs to a waiting wheelchair accessible airport van. All of us hop in and they start driving. They ask us if we’re going to see some cup games…no, we aren’t…and they ask us how the Super Bowl works.

They drive up to a little glass booth at the edge of the terminal. Letty and I are allowed to go in and Tim waits in the van. We give all three passports to the friendly guard who stamps them and we’re back in the van.

We are then driven to the door of our next plane which is parked right next to the one we got off of. Exactly 45 minutes later we’re buckling in.

I’ve heard of German efficiency but this is my first personal experience with it. Thank God for it. I must make a trip back here to experience more of this Bavarian hospitality (we would, too. In 2009 we came back for a week instead of 45 minutes – Ed)

The tiny Lusfthansa RJ85 whisks us over the Alps to the little airport in Nice, France and we’ve arrived. Our driver from Airport Transfer Service is waiting at the gate with our name on a sign. Just outside is his van and a half-hour later, we’re pulling up to the Citadines ApartHotel in Cannes.

It must have been busy here yesterday…the Cannes Film Festival ended the day before we arrived. Today though, it’s a quiet town. As quiet as Cannes gets anyway.

Our room is a suite with a smallish bedroom, a living room, and a combo kitchen/dining room tying it all together. It’s not accessible but we manage with a bath chair in the tub. There are accessible rooms here, but not suites. It is step-free access to, and in, the room.

The location is about a quarter mile from the beach and the neighborhood is full of great little shops. Two boulangeries are across the street and a small market is behind the hotel for necessities like eggs, milk, and wine. A butcher and charcuterie are also within a block.

A quick walk around the neighborhood to get our bearings. We see the sign welcoming festival goers just down the street from our hotel, then it’s back to our room to sleep off some jet lag.

In the morning, we set out to do some exploring. Since we’re still adjusting to the time, it’s early morning and we walk through the deserted streets of Le Soquet to go to March Forville, the covered market there.

As the vendors unload, we have a croissant and an espresso at a tiny little café across the street. French food and coffee are so delicious. After breakfast, a quick jog across the way puts us in the market.

In America, we have farmer’s markets that make supermarket food look like junk. Here in France, the supermarket food and produce make our U.S. farmer’s markets look bad in comparison. The farmer’s markets here in France make the French supermarkets look like rubbish. It’s incredible how good the food here is.

Completely unblemished lettuce heads two feet in diameter; black nectarines; dark purple asparagus; and that incredibly fragrant French garlic that they don’t like to export. In addition, there’s a section with tables full of seafood just caught, cheese counters, olive brokers, butchers, eggs, and more. You can get the entire grocery store here.

We stock up on fruits, vegetables, some great unpasteurized goat cheese, and olives before heading out to an adjacent charcuterie to pick up some marquez sausages. This food we will cook for breakfast each day in our room while taking our other meals out.

The first day, still a bit jet lagged from yesterday, we just take it easy and walk along the beach. Most of the beachfront in Cannes is private…you’ll either need to be a member of the particular club or pay an admission. None of these looked wheelchair accessible with the stairs leading down but at each end of the beach is a free public section. Both had ramps down but once you reach the sand, you’re on your own.

The water is clear this week but a little chilly, a lot like the temperature back home in California…but the Med has cleaner water.

The next day we rent a car and take off. It’s a very nice, scenic drive to Nimes. Not a lot of traffic at all until we get into that city, and then there’s a ton. We go beyond Nimes to Pont du Gard, a World Heritage Site with a massive Roman aqueduct crossing the Gardon River.

A newer walkway is adjacent to the ancient structure allowing people to walk across and take a close-up look with disturbing it. Look closely at the stones and you’ll see hundreds of years worth of graffiti.

It’s an idyllic place with lots of places to explore. Most of the site is wheelchair accessible but you’ll need strong, working legs to climb up to the top. The river attracts a lot of swimmers and kids on rafts.

Back in Nimes, we park in the big underground structure in the heart of town. Nearby is an old Roman coliseum that, after all these years, is still in business. A bullfight is scheduled there for later. For us, after taking a lap around it, we have a delightful lunch in its shadow. There is also a Roman temple nearby and a lot of other shops and restaurants to explore. Nimes is a fascinating city.

We head back to Cannes, driving by Avignon and seeing the pope’s old fortress on the hill.

That evening we have a great French dinner up the block from the hotel at the unFrenchly named Feelings. The food is outstanding and after the dinner hour it turns into a piano bar.

The car is ours for one more day so we run for the border. It’s not a long drive to Italy so we decide to head to San Remo for the day and to have a nice Italian lunch.

The autostrada is way up the hill, San Remo is at the bottom and it’s a steep, windy, and narrow road down. We make it and even find a free parking lot on the beach where we find this old Fiat 500. The old Italian men nearby tell us that there are still a lot of the old versions of this car running around Italy, we soon find out they’re right.

There’s a nice, but rocky, private beach here and we walk along the beachfront until we find a ramp up into the town. There’s a lot of traffic and about five blocks of shops and restaurants. San Remo looks like an Italian town that’s seen its best days pass by. A little ragged around the edges…still a nice place…but not one that tourists will flock to.

A small trattoria with tables on the sidewalk provided the lunch of a simple pasta with cheese and olive oil sauce. It was delicious and just right in the amount, not the gut-busting plates of pasta we get back home.

A stroll along the boulevard helps us burn the calories, and then it’s back to Cannes. Along the way, we make a stop in Antibes to splash in the water at the beautiful beach here. A couple of local guys working in a dive shop help me carry Tim and his chair down to the water and back.

In the morning, we walk over to the train station, about three blocks from the hotel, to see about taking a day trip to Monaco. There’s a tourist office right next to the main entrance of the train station but the staff there is not too helpful. Just inside the station is an information booth that is very helpful.

The attendant there tells us they just need 30 minutes notice before the train departs for the staff to accommodate the wheelchair. We buy tickets, from an English speaking ticket clerk, and inform the staff that we’ll need assistance.

A baggage handler is dispatched and takes Tim down to the end of the platform where a ramp was installed for wheelchairs. You cannot do this yourself…it is too dangerous with the trains crossing…so someone on the staff must take you through it. Letty and I go under the tracks via stairs and come up to the platform on the other side (you can see how this works in our 2009 video of the French Riviera trip-Ed).

A modern low-floored train arrives. If you need one, a ramp or lift will be provided to get you into the train. In our case, we just popped the front wheels of the manual chair up a few inches and boarded the train. There are several designated spots for wheelchairs at the end of each car.

In less than an hour we arrive at the sparkling, fully accessible, underground train station in Monaco. Someone on the train or in Cannes called ahead and a greeter meets us on the platform and takes us on an elevator to the main station lobby and explains the accessible routes for exit and entrance. Our exit takes us back down the elevator to the platform. At the opposite end is a long tunnel that deposits us about a block away from the Place d’ Arms. This is the plaza at the bottom of the hill that holds the royal palace.

There is the ubiquitous European market going on here today (love the market tradition here) and a couple of decent souvenir shops. I ask an official looking lady what the best way to get a wheelchair up to the top of the hill is. She tells me about the bus and then says if I’m feeling particularly masculine, I can try pushing the chair up the nearby staircase.

The staircase is the kind where there is a 3-4 inch step followed by about 4 feet of level ground before the next step. Challenge accepted…I start up the stairs. It is quite hard to do this way and I don’t recommend it. The buses to the top are accessible but somehow I made it!

Masculinity restored, at the top of the staircase is a large plaza in from of the palace. We make it just in time to see the changing of the guard. A phalanx of white suited men, some armed others playing musical instruments paraded up the middle of the plaza where the on-duty guard swapped places with the new guard in a ritualized manner.

Afterward, we take in the views of the tiny country from each side of the plaza and retreat to the maze of tiny streets, alleys, and passageways across the plaza from the palace. Nestled into a niche against the wall of the old cathedral, we find a nice spot for a lunch of pizza and mussels. It was delicious and relaxing.

We then set out on a cross-country trek, spending a few minutes in an adjacent park next to the aquarium before walking down the hill. At the bottom, we walk by the beautiful municipal pool. Barricades are in place, left over from the Monaco Gran Prix that was held over the weekend. In the auto club window across the street is the trophy from the race.

A nearby elevator takes us up to the top of the hill. That hill is named Monte Carlo. At the top is the famous casino. A great plaza with a fountain in front is surrounded by cars with names such as Bentley, Maserati, Ferrari, and Aston-Martin. There is an accessible entrance off to the side and we go into the lobby.

No pictures or packs are allowed, you must check everything at the coat check where there is a mandatory tip to retrieve them. If you meet the dress code, you can enter the casino for a 10 Euro charge. We’ll just look around in the ornate lobby, thank you.

Next door is another casino, this one with no charge and a more relaxed dress code. I’ll call this the “poor man’s casino.”

We do some window shopping at places with names like Cartier, Louis Vitton, and Hermes. There are other stores without the expensive names where we can buy some more suitable souvenirs.

Soon, we head back to the train, go back to Cannes and have some bouillabaisse down on the waterfront.

Our last day in Cannes and it finds us at the dock on the north end of the bay. Just offshore are the Isle d’ Lerins, a couple of islands that are mostly devoid of civilization. A quick ferry ride will get you over to them.

Okay, so here’s the problem. The ticket booth and the ramp to the boat are both located up a flight of stairs. At the bottom is the blue sign with a wheelchair. An arrow on the sign points to the right and I follow it. At the end of the dock is an elevator with a security guard sitting in front of it. I ask him if we can use it to go upstairs and he says yes (or oui in this case). I tell Letty to go buy tickets and we’ll meet her there.

Tim and I go up to the dock and go to the ticket office. After we have the tickets in hand and are waiting to go to the boat, a woman who works in the ticket office asks how we got the wheelchair up there. I tell her about the lift at the end of the dock. She tells me we weren’t supposed to go that way. I ask her how we were to go and she says up the stairs…with a wheelchair…upon which is sitting a 145 pound person.

I tell her sorry but she then loses it and wigs out demanding that I take Tim down the stairs and bring him and the chair up the proper way. I politely refuse. She gets even more angry….yelling and pointing, generally causing a scene. Her coworkers come out of the office and try to reason with her but it’s just not working…she will not stop if it means she would be wrong.

I’ve had enough, I tell her to call the police if she wants but we’re getting on the boat NOW. I turned around with her yelling at my back and made my way to the ferry. The crew was nice and put us on board.

I don’t like what happened but out of the many weeks we’ve stayed in France over the years, that is the only rude French person I’ve ever encountered. I don’t want readers here to see that and tell themselves that “yep, rude French people…just like we’ve heard.” Nothing could be further from the truth.

With the exception of the crazy lady of the dock, every French person we’ve encountered there has been nothing but nice, helpful, and gracious to us. Don’t let that stereotype infect your thinking.

Once that episode is over, we have a nice boat ride to the island. We’ve brought some wine and cheese along and plan on a beach picnic. On the island, it takes us about half-an-hour to walk to the other side where you can find some solitary spots with picnic tables and tiny little coves to swim in. None of these are flat enough to get Tim into the water (there are beaches adjacent to the ferry dock where you could) but after what I found, he didn’t want to get in anyway.

We find a beautiful, prime spot with a picnic table and a view over the channel to the second island about a half mile away. The water is sparkling. After some wine and snacks, I decide to go in.

The water is crystal clear and a bit on the cold side. After wading out about 50 feet, I start noticing little clear globs floating around me. The water is filled with jelly fish…hundreds if not thousands of them. I gingerly wade back to shore. My wife doesn’t know what’s wrong and wants me to go back out and take a picture.

Uh, OK, but I can’t promise it will come out good (it doesn’t…our signals got crossed and she thought I said there were a lot of sea sponges out there. Ask your kids about Spongebob Squarepants if you don’t understand).

Safely back on shore, we walk to the other end of the island where there is an old fortress. It is famous as the prison where the Man in the Iron Mask was held. It is not accessible so Letty goes in to see it and take pictures…which turned out not to be allowed…while Tim and I waited at the entrance and chatted with the ticket sellers there.

Back at the dock, a snack bar sells really good baguette sandwiches so we have some and a beer before heading back to shore.

That evening, we have one more dinner at Feelings before going to bed. In the morning, it’s back to the Nice airport where we’ll fly to London.

Stay tuned for that…

Darryl
Copyright 2010 – Darryl Musick
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