One group photo of the four of us on this trip. It's been an interesting ride 

The parting of the ways

After sleeping minimalist-style on Erin’s floor, the three of us packed up our car one last time for the trip up to LA. This 50 minute trip took us about 4 ½ hours, and I blame one man: The One that Burns. Erin and Adina had still not bought enough items to prepare for the apparent nuclear holocaust they were going to encounter in the Nevada desert, so we drove around Irvine some more to get them everything they would need. Three department stores in I gave up, told them I was going to wait at Panera with the food and the free internet, and they could come back and get me after they got all the coolers, the bikes, the bike racks, and sparkly shoes that they needed.

This of course led to me having to drive through traffic up to LA with a bike dangling off the rear. I’m fairly positive traffic lanes in LA are narrower than they are in other parts of California. This is a charge that I can’t prove though, as my friend Rachel just gave me a weird look when I asked her about it this afternoon.

So, Erin and Adina dropped me off near the Los Feliz neighborhood in LA. Rachel and I just got back from the swimming pool in the courtyard of her complex. Tonight we’re going to a friend’s birthday party in a restaurant in an old fire station, and tomorrow we’ll be hanging out at the movies. Can’t say I’m regretting that whole Burning Man decision. I hope the other two are well, but they’ll be out of contact for the next week. Here’s a last photo of the three of us with our precious car. Goodbye Gertie!

Our faithful car has made it to the west coast. Marvel at her wonder.. 

Erin's new abode 

We finally get to go to the ocean on our last day. Adina helpfully points it out to me 

Orange County has a lot of mini-malls

See below for the reasons why I haven't been posting

My last full day with Erin, Adina, and Gertie (the Civic). Erin had a early AM dentist appointment to get the crown on her tooth that’s been a pain in her butt for months. I dropped her off, swung by the hotel, picked up Adina, and we went to the beach. We were there for about 20 minutes, long enough to wade in the Pacific and watch some fairly impressive surfers, before Erin called, impatient to get to Irvine for her noon housing appointment. Much to her dismay, we were late picking her up and then late for the appointment, though it turned out not to matter too much in the end. Erin has a lovely 2-bedroom apartment with a gigantic kitchen, which she better learn to cook in, because it’s just that huge. I would kill for that kind of counter space.

As some of you know, Erin and Adina are going off to that ‘festival’ known as Burning Man where a thousand people hang out in a harsh desert for a week with no modern conveniences doing a lot of strange drugs and wearing a lot of weird outfits and calling it art. No, mom and dad, they will not be participating in the strange drugs part, but they were into the idea of costumes, and so that’s what we did for the next several hours. That and buy supplies to go into the wilderness. Staring at their 10 gallons of water, dust masks, goggles, and plastic bags that will be used as toilets, I’m stumped as to the reason why they want to do this, but for some reason they’re looking forward to it. It gave me a chance at least to check out the town of Irvine, which is a planned community owned by a corporation and… yeah, kind of looks like that. Has a nice little mini-mall and an arthouse theater, though.

It also has In-and-Out Burger, which Californians swear by and I have never had, being turned off by the name. But I tried it today in the spirit of trying burgers across the US (also checked off Sonic… eh). It was pretty damn good. I got a large burger, fries, and shake for $4.80, and it had the same sauce that Blue 9 has. Chris, Mariah, sorry, Lucky Burger has now been edged out two spots on the great burger list.

I can’t believe that tomorrow is that last day I see Erin for months. This is possibly the longest that we’ve been apart since middle school. Even at our tensest moments, I always knew I could give her a slap on the butt and everything would be ok. Now I’m living with 5, 6, or 7 roommates, depending on the night, and embarking upon my first job where I get my own desk and my own computer. And Adina, well, she’s planning on being a citizen of the world for the next year or so. Our 1 ½ years of bliss at 81 Olive Street have definitely come to an end.

Ok, on to less sad things. Erin has no furniture in her apartment, so we are doing what is called the ‘minimalist’ thing right now, which is all of our stuff spread across the floor, drinking some champagne from the bottle, and about to settle down to watch movies on my computer. Later we’ll spread out the sleeping bags for one last night in them, though this time without the bugs, gravel, and 30 degree temperatures. My kind of camping.

So popular I seem to be getting spam comments

Thanks to internet issues in San Diego and Irvine, this is the first I've been able to post in awhile. So, back to Thursday:

I’ve decided I like Las Vegas in the morning. It’s like going to Times Square after midnight, when there’s no one else around. The light shows are just for me, most people are sound asleep, and it feels like I’m there after-hours. It’s also fun watching the people at the table games order drinks at 10AM. In one last fit of confidence, I decided I could win money at roulette with my last $10. Of course, I manage to bet wrongly, and then lose the $10 within three rounds. Whoops.

We ate in Paris, or at least the Vegas version of it. Afterwards we hoped on the road and sped as fast as we could through the desert to the California coast. I’m still amazed by towns like Baker, CA, that are in the middle of the Mojave desert with nothing to offer except a couple of truck stops and the World’s Biggest Thermometer. Who would come to these places and think, hey, this is a good place to settle down. So what if it’s 100 degrees year-round and it’s two hours from anywhere? As for the thermometer, imagine a 100-foot tall broken-down neon sign attached to a dumpy restaurant. Yeah…

Our perfect 5-hour journey to San Diego was thwarted by LA traffic. Even though we were still a good 30 miles outside of what could be considered Los Angeles at 4PM, it was there. And stayed there as we wound our way through the mountains down to San Diego. All the hostels were booked, so I suggested we just get off by the airport, as there’s always cheap airport hotels. In San Diego, however, the airport is right next to downtown and the waterfront, and that is where the most expensive hotels are. We managed to find one semi-dumpy one in the area, and settled in at the café in the hostel down the street that refused us because we weren’t foreign, in order to poach their internet. Ha ha! We’re actually staying in Little Italy, so our whole neighborhood smells like cooking pizza. Mmm… pizza.

We, however, opted to find some of these famous San Diego fish tacos for dinner. William gave us an address of a place on Ocean Beach, and so we drove around in the darkness by extremely ritzy real estate for awhile until we gave up and settled at a local Mexican joint. If I never have Mexican again, I will be quite happy. For a few weeks. Anyway, they had fish tacos too. It sounded strange and alien-like to me, and the mixed tastes of guacamole and salmon were a little strange to the uninitied, but I liked it. It’s with a soft taco and lettuce and cheese, a slightly healthier option than the standard taco fare.

A nervous Erin retired to bed, and Adina and I found a local joint to have a drink and do our standard quizing of locals to find out what life in San Diego is like. She approved as soon as she learned that people do use the public transportation system there. I approved when I learned that our new friends, who weren’t that much higher up the employment chain than us, lived in one of the gorgeous apartments with a balcony and roof deck in the neighborhood. Ah, apartment envy….

Erin and Adina stop to dance outside of Treasure Island 

The view from our hotel at Ballys 

Two buildings make a ghost town, I guess 

My horse is second from the left, his name is Nickel, and we are friends 

Vegas, baby, Vegas

Amazing how much more sleep you can get when you camp in an area that doesn’t drop to 30 degrees at night. However, waking up in the morning to find approximately 4 billion dead gnats in the sink in the local bathroom made me realize how happy I was that this would probably be my last camping trip for awhile. Erin and Adina went off to hike some extremely hard trail this morning, while I went off to ride horses.

Unfortunately, there were some small kids with us, so we didn’t ride as fast as I’d like. For those who don’t know, I rode horses for several years as a child, and I love being able to still do that from time to time. Despite the fact that they smell, bite, and often try to throw you off, horses have personality, and I respect that.

Erin and Adina were waiting for me by the car when I got back, anxious to get out of town and to Las Vegas. I made them turn around briefly to find the town of Grafton, which is an actual ghost town outside of Zion. I guess I was expecting more of a Western mining town, and this was really a small Mormon farming community that all moved out over several years. It was about 3 empty buildings. If anyone ever saw the episode of The Brady Bunch that featured them going on vacation and ending up at a ghost town, you know what I was picturing when I saw that listed on the map. It was interesting, but I’m not sure how much it was worth the good 10 miles in each direction we put into it.

Erin made new speed records getting us to Las Vegas. Me being the seasoned Vegas expert, having been there for a weekend once, got to tell lots of stories about the lay of the land and what’s the interesting stuff to do. Bally’s, our hotel, reminded me of how every resort on the strip is about 2 miles long and how wherever you want to go is on the other end of the hotel from where your room is. I think we passed through two time zones on our way to the pool from our room, but it was all worth it for the fruity drink that was at the end of that long tunnel.

I managed to lose about $20 gambling. Seeing that I started off with $40 and played for close to an house, I feel this is justified. The several rounds of penny slots, however, was probably not. Eh, flashing lights, what can I say? I took Erin and Adina down the strip to see the pirate show at Treasure Island. However, apparently a 2mph wind is enough for them to cancel it, or at least that was their story. We went into a club briefly to watch burlesque dancers, and wandered slowly back to our hotel. Erin was tired, as I'm pretty sure she's still stubbornly refusing to adjust to West Coast time, despite the fact that this is what time she'll be living on for the next 6 years. Should make her more of a morning person, I suppose. Sorry, no marriages, no arrests, and no Elvis impersonators for us in Vegas, just three girls very happy to no longer be camping and to be almost at the end of this voyage.

We saw rams!  

This is what I saw when I hiked. That and a generally dizzy cloudiness 

I will name him Jabba the Hut, and he will be mine - strange rocks in Zion Canyon 

In which I voluntarily do stuff outdoors

Day 8 had us awake slowly in Kanab, relishing our chance to use internet one last time before disappearing into the abyss of the National Park System. Kanab won our seal of approval for having not only a coffee shop, but a movie theater. You’d be amazed how many towns don’t.

We then went through amazing canyons that are part of Zion National Park. The place is gorgeous. And yes, I went hiking. Shockingly. There wasn’t really anything else to do in the park but hike, so I figured, what the hell. It was nice. The last, steep bit almost killed me, and this was a moderate hike, but it wasn’t bad. It didn’t help that Erin and Adina are probably in much better shape than I and practically ran up the last night bit, yawning and laughing at my gasping. As soon as we got back I discovered the Zion lodge had a lounge, and then found my backup plan in case they made me hike again. Luckily, we went instead into town to the Bit & Spur restaurant, which the lodge worker who was flirting with Adina recommended. And as I had just found out that not only were we going to camp again, we were camping at a place with no showers, I needed a drink.

Springdale, the town directly outside of Zion, exists primarily as a place for Zion tourists to stay in and eat at. It’s pretty, though, and apparently the Bit & Spur is also the only bar in town. This being Mormon territory, restaurants can’t serve people alcohol unless they order food. Bars have creative ways of getting around this, but you might want to keep it in mind if you ever go to Utah. We stayed after dinner to make friends with some of the locals. The trend in this town seemed to be outdoor enthusiasts who came for three months and ended up staying there. They all had grand schemes for wherever they were going next. During our conversation with Justin and Brodie, who both worked odd jobs so they could mountain climb, I saw a giant, elephant-sized black bug crawl past the glasses at the bar. “What’s that?” I pointed out.

“Huh? Oh, that’s a cockroach,” They said non-chalantly, then returned to their conversation.

“Wait, what? That thing is huge, and I live in New York, I know cockroaches.”

“Eh, that’s nothing. You’re in the desert. You should see some of the bugs that are crewing around here. Some are probably in your tent right now.”

They were helpful. Anyway, camping we went. I managed to muster the enthusiasm because the money I saved from that is letting me go horseback-riding today. Yay horsies!

Passing by mesas at sunset, it's a shame these areas are probably full of fundamentalist Mormons 

The steep route we took to get out of the cliff dwellings 

Mesa Verde cliff dwellings 

Hanging with the Mormons

After a restful 4 hour nap (that’s being generous), Erin roused us this morning. I’m impressed with the technological advances in rvs over the years. The satellite dishes were my favorite. It’s like being in nature, only without having to sacrifice any comfort from home. I’m ready to buy one. So yeah, there are a lot of rvs in national parks. The local diner had an advertisement for all-you-can-eat pancakes. We showed up, and realized that ad really meant that was the only thing they served. It took quite a long time to explain to the cook/server that I only wanted tea and Erin only wanted a regular order of pancakes. Apparently nobody makes changes to the standard order in these parts.

Mesa Verde is pretty damn cool. For those that don’t know, this ancient society a thousand years ago built these elaborate cliff dwellings in these remote locations, then left. A thousand years later, they were discovered by an army officer who was going through the canyon. Anyway, I can do hikes if there’s a good reward at the end, and this was definitely a good one. As I found out a little late, Mesa Verde is actually at 7000 feet, so I spent much of the hike gasping for air. I also spent a good deal thinking those mile-high people in Denver were wimps.

Another long haul was in order after that, through the Four Corners and into Navajo country. That’s 13 states there, people, and three reservations (does that count as foreign travel? Are Native Americans on reservations citizens? Can they vote? Anyone?) However, I found that sales tax on reservations is 2.5%, so I’m a fan. That and Monument Valley is amazing. I kept waiting to see John Wayne fighting the Injuns off in the distance.

We stop briefly in Page, Arizona, on the edge of the Navajo Reservation. I get a phone call from my mother, and find out that the giant electrical plant that we passed by a few miles ago is where my dad worked for awhile in the 70’s, helping with the evaporation system. It’s a small, small world. I don’t think Page has grown much since those days. I stopped in at the local hostel briefly to check their rates. I had to go around back to the run-down patio, where a guy wandered outdoors after a minute of me ringing the bell, gave me a hug, and told me to come in. He showed me the rooms they had, and then demonstrated them by lying down and almost falling asleep. I nervously mentioned that we might go on to Kanab tonight, and he got really excited. He took me to the other room and gave me brochures for hostels in 5 other states, then asked me if I knew about the hostels in New York. I wanted to tell him that this is why I pay a lot of money in rent, so I don’t have to put up with crazy people in hostels in New York, but I didn’t. We decided it would be good to spend the extra hour going to Kanab, Utah, that night.

Which was a great decision, because seeing the canyons and mesas by sunset is a sight to see. We’re currently in Kanab, which is a town only because it’s a couple hours away from all of the national parks in Utah and Arizona. The menu at the restaurant helpfully listed all of the Westerns that have been filmed in the area. We’re now at a much-needed hotel to recharge our batteries (literally and figuratively) before going on to more nature. Help me.

I cavort in a river somewhere outside of Durango, Colorado 

Taos Pueblo 

We pass over the Rio Grande outside of Taos 

Many reasons why I don't like camping

A very sweaty Erin and Adina greeted me back at the hostel (this is why I don’t hike). We went into town, where I checked off a New Mexican vineyard (really good), and Adina planned where she could buy property. After a brief stop-off at Taos Pueblo, we started our long winding journey to Colorado. And, well, not much to say. It’s big. Lost of driving. Lots of mountains. Passed by a little dirt road with 4 trailers and a man hanging in effigy from the gates at the front. That was nice. If anyone ever meets anyone who grew up in an area like that, let me know. I’d be curious to meet them.

Colorado was, well, stereotypically Coloradan. The mountains are big, the rvs are aplenty, and we started seeing signs for elk crossing. Occasionally we’d pass by a sign for some ranch, and a road would lead off into the distance. I’m still not convinced anyone actually does live in southeastern Colorado.

After a disagreement over whether we should hotel or camp it, I begrudgingly gave in and agreed to camp on Mesa Verde campground, only because the nearby cheap-ass scary motels were out of our price range. And, yeah, I gotta say, night two of camping, didn’t see my love grow at all. Don’t get me wrong, it was gorgeous. The friendly guys at the campsite store agreed to charge our cell phones for us, we had a campfire, saw more stars than I’ve seen in a long time, and almost ran into quite a few deer on our way to the campsite. Again, at 3AM, when I am freezing cold in the stupid desert night, when I hear something rustling around behind our tent, my first thought is not, oh, I’m so close to nature, this is wonderful. It tends to go more along the lines of ‘God I hope that isn’t an axe murderer, why am I shivering while sleeping on gravel when I could be in a hotel room with sheets and pillows and don’t have to worry about checking my shoes for bugs tomorrow morning?’

Lazy Sunday mornings

Sure enough, there were skunks out and about last night. And sure enough, about 1AM I woke up to smell that sweet pungent scent of skunk spray. Not to mention the five other times I woke up between then and 8AM, due to, amongst other things, dogs, people, motorcycles, coldness, and what possibly might have been a coyote yelping. Camping is not for me. Erin and Adina decided to go on a hike this morning before we got going. Two hours up into the mountains at 9AM. I myself am sitting in a lovely little café in downtown Arroyo Seco (where our hostel is), called the Taos Cow, drinking some chai, reading the paper, and enjoying the free wireless. Later I’ll stop in several of the little arts and antiques stores in the downtown area (which is about 1000 feet long). We all have our ideas of a good Sunday morning, and that one is mine. If you see the photos below, you’ll see where we spent the night last night. It’s a good tent, it served its purpose. I guess.

Day 5 - We're halfway done!

Halfway through the day we got halfway through the trip. Yippee! And we have yet to leave New Mexico. Adina’s thinking of buying property and staying here. I’m not joking.

To start: We left Tucumcari on what the locals described as a ‘quick’ trip to Santa Fe. Three hours later, we arrived. The sense of distance out here is a little off for us Northeastern girls. Most of the day was spent off the interstate and on long highways where every ten minutes or so, we’d pass another car. The amount of space in this part of the country is crazy. I keep thinking of all those people crowded into Manhattan, and wonder if they’d pick up and move if they could. Then again, I probably wouldn’t. Not to mention this gas thing. Gas is damn expensive. And there’s only one gas station every 100 miles or so out here, so you’re stuck with whatever outrageous price they want to charge. Apparently, prices are lower on Indian Reservations, if anyone is traveling soon and wants to economize.

Santa Fe is lovely. I thought it was all tacky and gimmicky with the new-looking adobe buildings downtown until I found out most of them had been built 200 years ago. Adobe, man, the wave of the future. We managed to get to Santa Fe on the one weekend a year the largest Native American open-air market takes place. Blocks and blocks of gorgeous jewelry, clothes, paintings, and furs. Adina quickly went to work quizzing every single one of them on where they were from, what tribe, and how they made their jewelry. We now have the official Native American census taken. Erin and I, sadly enough, saw several people passing by with Starbucks and went off on a mission. We asked a local policeman, who radioed in to his colleagues to help us find it. That’s when we decided we liked this town.

The outskirts of Santa Fe are a little more run-down, but somewhere along that route I spotted my first mesa. Yay! We made it up to Taos, home of Julia Roberts, amongst other movie stars. This not being ski season, though, it was a little quieter in town. We went to the Abominable Snowmansion hostel, which was, well, very hostel-like. We walk up to the door and a guy comes out wearing a pink hat with fake blonde dreads and a teddy bear backpack. They also have teepees in the back you can sleep in. Despite my best efforts, it was decided that we would camp using our own tent instead, to save money. Yes, kids, I camped. Not happily, but I did. Especially as I saw 2 skunks run past the outside of the lounge/kitchen cabin. We’re in the wilderness now, and I am officially scared.

Also, I don’t have as many photos anymore as I’m starting to switch over to my 35mm real camera to get some of these amazing views out here.

Day 4 – Try a plate of Rocky Mountain Oysters

O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A…. what? It was only a matter of time. I had to do it. Anyway, backto the travel diary. This morning we drove through the city of… whatever the hell Oklahoma City is the city of. Beef? Cattle? More cities where no people are outside in the middle of the day? Anyway, Erin picked up a lovely santa outfit she hopes to wear at Burning Man. After, we went to the Oklahoma City bombing memorial, which was very well done and could probably teach New York and their petty squabbling over memorial size a thing or two. We then went to the Stockyards, which are the largest in the world, and are great. The blocks surrounding it are chock full of stores of cowboy attire, beef, and horse saddles. Not a touristy, fake area. It’s real, practical stuff for people actually working on ranches. It was awesome. A cowboy named ‘Boots’ gave us the skinny on cattle auctions, which were not taking place, unfortunately. We got lunch, and oh my God, I never knew a hamburger could be so good as the one I got at the Cattleman’s Café. Lucky Burger be damned!

Next up we plowed through sevearl hours of flat Oklahoma and Texan prarie. A quick phone call to our resident geek Mariah informed us that the soil is red in that area because of the large amount of iron in it. It oxidizes once it reaches the air. That’s a science lesson for you, kids.

Then we went to what is possibly the awesomest restaurant in Northern Texas, the Big Texan. It’s famous for it’s 72 oz steak, which if you can consume in one hour, is free. There’s a little table set up in the middle with a timer behind it waiting for the next fool to try. The record, by the way, is 9 ½ minutes. That’s 4 ½ pounds of meat there. They also had a shooting gallery. And slot machine. I could have lived there. Oh, and by the way, the steak? Amazing. Words cannot describe. Perhaps there are some good things that come out of Texas.

Past Amarillo, on the side of the Interstate, is the Cadillac Ranch, where one guy decided to paint and half-bury 10 Cadillacs in the ground. No real reason. No sign for it. They’re just there, easy to miss, painted pink this month in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness. It was great. I think if I ever buy a lot of land, I’m going to put up a random sculpture out of….old laptops. Just because. And then my lawn will become a tourist attraction.

What is equally awesome in Texas is being able to see a storm coming from 15 miles away. It came upon us slowly, and was enormous. Dad, that’s probably the closest I’ll come to the tornadoes you wanted me to get caught in. There was no wind, but lighting just lit up the sky, and with a sky this size, that’s saying a lot.

I managed to drag Erin and Adina out last night to the bar that the 'locals' go to. The streets of Tucumcari, New Mexico were empty, and doubts were low. Luckily, we managed to find this kick-ass friendly bar that I'm pretty sure was the only spot in town, and made friends with all the townies. We met not one, but two people who had lived in New York for several years. Our conversations would go like this

Us: Oh, we're from New York
Waitress/Patron: Oh my god, I miss it so much! I used to work on 33rd and Park, there's no place like New York. Take me with you!
Erin: I'll have another drink (drowns her sorrows)

They were nice though, and had interesting accents, and mapped out routes for us to take today. Which we'll be departing on, real soon, so goodbye for now.

This is Oklahoma? Where's Nicole Kidman on a horse?

Day 3

We had thought we’d swing by Graceland this morning, look at the house, then drive onto the Civil Rights Museum. However, the Elvis, Inc. people are crafty, in that you can’t get anywhere near the house unless you pay the $20 charge and take the official Graceland bus over to the place. We figured, what the hell, we just came all the way out here, we’ll do the tour thing. Graceland is… not all it’s cracked up to be. Apologies to my sister and everyone else who told me to go, but… eh. It was tacky, but not quite as over-the-top as I could have hoped. I liked the pea-green shag carpeting on the ceiling, though. That and the large number of very ornate posters that were left by his grave site. I'm talking days of work were put into these things. I don't know if that's touching or weird.

Unfortunately, this left us with no time to go to the Civil Rights Museum, which looked extremely interesting. It’s housed in the former Lorraine Hotel, where Martin Luther King, Jr, was assassinated in 1969 in room307. That part of the hotel is unchanged, and looks exactly the same as it does in the picture taken minutes afterward, with all the people pointing towards where the assassin was. It was really, well, creepy, and gave a slightly more sobering portrait of Memphis. I recommend it to anyone who is there.

So, Arkansas is…. Flat. The Eastern part, that is. Pretty dull. However, it is the start of States That Kelly Has Never Been To. We stopped in Little Rock for lunch, where we had to ask the question, where are all the people? Ben? Did you see anyone where you were there? It’s a good sized town, and there’s lots of buildings and cars, but not a single person anywhere in the middle of a Thursday afternoon. We felt like we were in the middle of 28 Days Later, and Bill Clinton’s former mistresses were going to come out of closets with bright red eyes, going for our brains.

The good part of Arkansas is the Ozarks, about 2 hours northwest of there. We found Altus, which is the wine capital of Arkansas, found the one vineyard that was still open, woke up the one guy working there, and I checked another state off my list of places to drink wine. We also drove through Alma, Arkansas, which is apparently the spinach capital of the world. That’s at least what it says on the statue of Popeye on Main street (let’s just say one-horse town is a little too big to describe Alma). We of course got our pictures taken with him for posterity.

Ok, Dawson, I will back you up right now when you say Oklahoma is pretty. Because, at sunset, where there’s trees and lakes and a sky that these city girls haven’t seen so colorful in years, it is really pretty. Unfortunately we were also hungry, and there ain’t much to find in Eastern Oklahoma. We tried Checotah, which the sign helpfully told us is “Home of Carrie Underwood, winner of American Idol,” but apparently Carrie left town for a reason. I have no other tales to tell for today, unfortunately. We’re holed up in a cheap hotel in Oklahoma City watching reruns. Life is exciting sometimes.

Photo explanations: Us going down a trolley-only street in Memphis, a sign near Graceland, Erin and Adina frolicking with the cows in Arkansas, and photos with Popeye in Alma