We flew to the Caribbean to appear in an upcoming TV show (code named “Vacation Hunters“) for the Travel Channel. We love watching the Travel Channel, and we’d never visited the Virgin Islands, so this seemed like a fun and memorable way to experience a new destination. We arrived in the island of St. Thomas, and ventured out from there. Over the course of the week, we experienced several different types of vacation.

The premise of the show: participants ”hunt” for a unique vacation experience that suits their own wish list. So we got to “test drive” three different ways to vacation in the U.S. Virgin Islands. We’ve watched a zillion episodes of shows like House Hunters and House Hunters International – this is a similar show.

I won’t reveal too much just yet (since all will eventually be revealed on TV) but we were pleased by the variety of offerings cooked up by the TV production company. There were a few surprises, and no bad choices. In the end, we were able to dovetail our love of Airstream camping with our time in the Islands.

The location didn’t hurt. The Caribbean is gorgeous in springtime. The weather was warm but not hot. The ocean waters were a perfect temperature for swimming. Rum is cheaper than water! Overall we had a blast in the Caribbean. I’m sure we’ll go back someday.

We’d previously been to Jamaica. The U.S. Virgin Islands reminded me of Jamaica in many ways, but it nevertheless has its own unique identity. As a United States Territory, the Virgin Islands are not bound by all of the usual American legal excesses. Life in the Islands is a just a little different. For example, I stopped and chatted with a man who had set up a sidewalk “rum & coke stand” that was like a lemonade stand for adults. In the States you’d need a permit, one the bureaucrats would never agree to issue anyway.

Here are a few photos from the trip, presented in pretty much random order. I shot some video also, and will eventually edit it for your consideration. Note that clicking the individual photos will open up the view to full size.

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I’m happy to report that so far my dumb mistakes have caused minimal harm to others, our Airstream, and the environment. I haven’t pulled a BP and spilled ten billion gallons of black water in the Gulf of Mexico. I haven’t forgotten to properly hitch our Airstream before driving away. I’ve done little things. Like the time we were in North Dakota and I filled SEEMORE’s diesel belly full of gasoline.

What happens when you put unleaded gasoline in a diesel truck? My understanding is that you can put a few gallons in the tank and be okay. While I’m not recommending that you try it, I’ve been told that a couple of gallons in a large 30-gallon tank wouldn’t hurt things too much. An entire tankful of unleaded gas, on the other hand, can cause all sorts of trouble. It can cause your engine to go kaboom.

In this case, I was fortunate on a couple of fronts. First of all, I discovered the problem before cranking the truck. If I had fired up the truck and driven away, it’s very likely that damage to bearings, pistons, and even a head gasket could have been the result. Things would have gotten messy and expensive very fast. We would have faced a massive repair bill, one probably involving a rental car and an unplanned extended stay in a campground. Since I discovered the problem right away, the risk of damage was minimized.

Secondly, we were lucky that this problem happened in North Dakota. The state may have a small population, but it ranks unusually high on the “nice people” charts. Rodney, the fellow who rode to our rescue, was fantastic.

I spoke with him about the situation. In most places, the diesel island is 100 percent diesel. You can’t really screw up royally when pumping from the diesel island. In North Dakota, there is also unleaded fuel on the island. Hence my dumb mistake. When I pulled into the fueling station, I spotted the diesel island. I quickly hopped out of our truck and filled my tank with fuel from the first pump. It was only upon returning the handle to the pump that I discovered my mistake.

In the background under the red roof are the unleaded gasoline pumps. Our truck SEEMORE is parked at the diesel island. Usually when you see a dedicated diesel island that is separated from all of the unleaded gasoline pumps, you can only obtain diesel from that island. Here there was a gasoline pump on the diesel island.

Rodney told me that he’d visited this particular station before on a similar syphoning job.

“That guy was a Texas oil company executive,” Rodney said, “who was in town on business.”

I nodded. There were several oil fields in the vicinity of this North Dakota town.

“Boy, was he mad,” Rodney chuckled. “He couldn’t believe that there was unleaded gas on the diesel island.”

In contrast to the executive, I wasn’t angry. Sure, I think offering unleaded fuel on the diesel island probably isn’t the greatest idea, but the situation was ultimately my fault. I somehow managed to find the humor in the situation and laugh about it.

After Rodney finished syphoning the unleaded fuel out of our truck (a process that took at least an hour), it was time to settle up.

“What do I owe you?” I asked.

Rodney shook his head.

“Nothin’,” he replied.

“I need to pay you something,” I insisted.

“For what?” he said with a wry grin. “For takin’ your gas?”

Sure, I gave Rodney the tankful of gas, which he turn gave to local farmers. But most tow companies would have stuck me for a hefty bill. Let’s suppose he charged me $150. Then I would be out that sum plus the amount paid for the gasoline, so this fiasco would have been a $250 mistake. Then I would need to pump another $100 worth of diesel, meaning this would have been a $350 gas station visit. That’s enough to spoil anyone’s day.

But Rodney was incredibly kind and generous. We left town thankful that this particular dumb mistake happened in North Dakota. In the end, thanks to Rodney, it didn’t really spoil our day.

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Back to festivals. It’s not that I don’t like people. I enjoy meeting and talking to people very much.

It’s that I don’t like crowds. Being surrounded by large crowds of people for extended periods of time doesn’t feel very liberating. It feels confining. When the crowds get too large, they begin to dictate how fast you move and where you go. That feeling of claustrophobia is sort of “anti-walkabout” in my book.

When I think of “festivals,” my mind jumps to those massive music extravaganzas that are hugely popular every summer. You know the type of festival I am talking about. They feature a few dozen bands, horrible musical acoustics, sweaty dirty mobs of drunken revelers, and a fleet of port-a-potties. One of my goals in life is to minimize time spent in port-a-potties.

So the festival needs to be pretty special to garner my interest. With this in mind, we’ve taken our Airstream to some wonderful festivals over the years. Some festivals, like the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque and the Sturgis motorcycle rally in South Dakota, are so unique and compelling that they are worth the hassle. Seaside’s wine festival is fun (of course, even a “dentist drill festival” could be fun if enough wine is involved).

Our festival du jour is called Digital Graffiti. It’s billed as the world’s first projection art festival. The event takes place once a year in the town of Alys (pronounced “Alice”) Beach, Florida. Alys Beach is a ridiculously expensive planned community on Florida’s increasingly famous Scenic Highway 30A. Imagine a little Gulf Coast utopia with style and architecture inspired by Bermuda and Antigua, Guatemala.

As of this writing, the town is under construction. What’s already complete is outrageously beautiful. It’s also solid as an anvil. The entire town is “built to fortified standards,” meaning that the build quality is pretty much as high as it gets. There’s not a lot of vinyl siding or rich Corinthian leather. There is a lot of stone and concrete. Furthermore, each “fortified” home is intended to last several hundred years.

We could hold a little engineering and architecture class to discuss the details, but suffice to say that the walls and windows in Alys Beach are designed to withstand a hurricane. That’s rather important if you intend to build a lasting structure along this stretch of Florida coast. Walls are thick slabs of poured concrete that’s painted white. So the overall effect is a pristine white town. There’s nothing else quite like it in the United States, at least not that we have seen.

The idea behind the Digital Graffiti festival is simple and brilliant. The white walls of Alys Beach are a blank canvas. One night per year, that canvas is thoroughly “painted” with a smorgasbord of digital art. The actual artwork of Digital Graffiti varies, but most of it is of an abstract nature. It’s a menagerie of flashing light and vibrant color.

Digital Graffiti is not for art snobs. You don’t need to know your Monet from your Rembrandt. In fact, you don’t need to know much of anything. There’s no agenda. You just wander the gorgeous streets of Alys Beach, perhaps sipping your favorite adult beverage, and take in the different sights.

It’s appropriate for families; there will be no shortage of young kids darting to and fro, squealing with delight. But it’s also appropriate for young adults (or in my case, flabby middle-aged adults) who are seeking nightlife.

The heart of Digital Graffiti is in the Caliza Pool area. The swimming pool in Alys Beach is rumored to have cost more than $15 million to build. Whatever the cost, it’s a rather fantastical place to hold a party. And in this corner of Alys Beach, that’s what Digital Graffiti becomes.

For Kristy and me, this stretch of Florida highway is our home away from home. Although Alys Beach doesn’t offer any camping, there are plenty of options in the area. Grayton Beach and Henderson Beach come to mind.

Like I said, I don’t really like festivals. But this is a good one. It’s busy and lively without being a cattle drive. I don’t even remember seeing any port-a-potties.

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Fair enough. Believe it or not, I know what he means. The pragmatist in me (remember, I survived college on a steady diet of Ramen noodles and Taco Bell) understands his point of view, even though I do get the Airstream thing.

Airstreams cost a little (sometimes a lot) more. They are Old School. The very characteristics that are key to their appeal –aluminum skin and curvaceous shape — are also laden with significant drawbacks.

On paper, fiberglass is a far more practical lightweight material for a camper. It’s inexpensive, durable, and does not leak.

On paper, a rectangular box is a far more practical shape for a camper. Straight angles create more livable space than sexy curves. While curves compromise interior cabinetry and storage space, boxes allow more of both.

But we don’t live on paper. In the real world, aesthetics count for something. Some things are more than the sum of their parts. Some shapes and products evoke an emotional reaction. Some creations make us smile. Others simply do not. Bigger is not always better. It’s hard to precisely define “charm,” but we know it when we see it.

Consider, for example, the town of Seaside, Florida. How to describe Seaside? It’s a planned community with the tagline “new urbanism” attached to it. Three decades ago, there was no Seaside. Today it’s a bustling resort town, albeit one with a somewhat transient citizenry.

Seaside is a beach vacation destination. By design, Seaside has no high rise buildings or massive swimming pools. Its homes are of modest “cottage” size in this age of the McMansion. Streets are narrow. It’s just a quaint little town wisely positioned a safe distance away from sand dunes and sea oats. The town founders undoubtedly planned every square inch, but they also allowed for organic growth.

In the heart of Seaside lies its Airstream Court (at least that’s what I’m calling it). It all started with a simple vintage Bambi that was converted into an ice cream stand. Then along came a vintage Safari that morphed into a juice bar. As the years went by, more Airstreams joined the party. Now there’s barbecue, hot dogs, and grilled cheese tossed into the mix. All prepped and served in a half dozen vintage trailers. All positioned front and center in a town where the average empty lot now costs a half million.

Yes, Seaside is a carefully planned town. That planning has helped produce some extremely valuable real estate. I can’t imagine that you could plant a blade of grass in Seaside without first consulting a law firm and the architectural review community. Yet somehow the vintage trailers look right at home here. They are not cookie cutter creations. Each is unique. They are completely accepted into the community as organic members. They don’t really “stand out.” Instead, they blend right in.

If I had to pinpoint a characteristic that makes Seaside different from other beach communities (even the planned ones) it would be charm. That’s one reason I believe that Airstreams are right at home here. It has everything to do with the original design. The materials (sheets of aluminum and rivets) are simple and obviously have been assembled by hand. Vintage Airstreams exude charm and character in a manner that modern rigs often lack. They are not dated; they are timeless.

Don’t “get” the Airstream thing? I completely understand your point of view. Airstreaming is not the most practical mode of travel. Airstreams are not the most practical choice of camper. But take a stroll along Scenic Highway 30A in Seaside. Maybe your understanding will be enhanced. Maybe you will get it, after all.

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Here in the United States, you could just cut a check to each individual resident. It would be one hell of an automatic bill pay. Assuming we have 300 million people in the States, we’d each get a check for $6.66. Of course, the Satanic overtones of this gift would cause mass hysteria, civil unrest, and riots.

Okay, so what else would you do?

A dead fellow in California (or at least his estate) faced this unfortunate dilemma and crafted a novel solution. His $2 billion went towards the construction of a ridiculously nice arrangement of buildings. Outside the buildings is a lavish assortment of water features and lush greenery. Inside the buildings are some outrageously valuable paintings, statues, and pictures.

Is this the best use of $2 billion? I don’t know. But the J. Paul Getty Center is pretty damn impressive.

The facilities of the Getty are immaculate. This is no ordinary museum – it’s a custom-built Italian travertine palace. It’s perfectly positioned on 740 acres of land in the Santa Monica mountains. It’s so well removed from the rest of Los Angeles that it has its own monorail system.

The architecture and grounds of the Getty are so compelling that they arguably overshadow the art. You can take an audio tour (highly recommended) that does nothing but discuss the complex itself.

I’m not really a “museum guy.” I like museums as much as the average person. But when we arrive in a new place, I don’t make a beeline for the nearest museum. I find LIVING people much more interesting than dead people. I’m more likely to be found staring at a tall glass of ale in a local pub than staring at an ancient marble statue.

With that said, I’ve had some wonderful experiences in museums around the world. The Getty is one of the most memorable.

What strikes me as most unusual about the Getty is its cost. No, I’m not referring to the $2 billion, but rather the admission fee. THERE IS NONE. Admission is free.

Yes, $2 billion of Mr. Getty’s money went towards building a spectacular museum that ANYONE can access pretty much any day of the week for FREE. You can go seven days a week, if you like. Just stroll right in like you own the place.

That $54 million Van Gogh painting? Oh, that old thing? Gaze at it as long as you like (or at least until they close up shop).

When I think about the “no cost” activities we’ve enjoyed on our Airstream travels, my mind usually goes towards outdoorsy adventures like hikes. But in truth, hikes often aren’t completely free. You pay fees to enter national parks. Those parks are maintained by your taxes.

The Getty is about as free as it gets.

There is one charge at the Getty, and that is parking. If you want to park in the Getty lot (which is located at the base of the mountain), they’ll stick you for $15. I’m told there are other parking options nearby, and you can take public transportation to the Getty. So with a little planning, you can go enjoy this billion-dollar bonanza with zero expense.

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We departed in early August. Our route took us from the Deep South (starting in Sweet Home Alabama, stopping by Graceland in Memphis) to Iowa (a ridiculous yet memorable detour to visit the mythical birthplace of Captain Kirk) then on to South Dakota (Mount Rushmore) and finally to the promised land of Wyoming’s Yellowstone National Park.

Along the way, we saw clusters of motorcycles on the road. All headed in one direction.

The closer we got to South Dakota, the more motorcycles we saw. Pretty soon we were surrounded by leather clad bikers, packs of growling cycles flanking my 80s econobox.

“What the heck are all these bikers doing out here?” we wondered. “And are we the only ones in this state not wearing black leather?’

Then we realized. STURGIS was in full swing.

Back in in those days (the late 80s), Sturgis seemed pretty big. I think it attracted about 150,000 bikes over the course of two weeks. Twenty years later, the event has mushroomed in size, almost quadrupling. The numbers we heard tossed around were 570,000 bikes and a million bikers.

Kristy and I attended the 70th annual rally. Sturgis has a wild reputation, but our experience wasn’t so wild. I mean that as a complement. The people gathered at Sturgis (at least the ones we met) are just about as friendly, accepting, and laid back a bunch as you will find anywhere. I’m sure that those looking for trouble can probably find it. But most people are just looking for a good time.

You hear about deaths at Sturgis, and every year there are a few. But when you have a half million people riding motorcycles in an area, unfortunately some accidents are going to happen.

Sure, you will see a few excesses in terms of *ahem* dress and language. But it’s nothing so outrageous as what you might see at Mardi Gras in New Orleans. (Umm, what don’t you see at Mardi Gras?) Frankly, without a few excesses, Sturgis wouldn’t be nearly as much fun. We come to Sturgis FOR the excesses!

Sturgis is perhaps best described as a party. It’s a patchwork quilt of people, and the common thread that binds is an appreciation for bikes. People are warm and accepting and generally in a good mood.

I’ve spent more than my fair share of time and money fiddling around with performance cars, and have driven a few (quite slowly) on the race track. I’ve never been bitten by the motorcycle bug. The fact my physician sister calls ‘em “donorcycles” may have something to do with it. I’m a fan of seatbelts and rollbars when risking my life.

But while we were at Sturgis, I found myself SERIOUSLY considering a bike. The style, the performance, the subculture… the freedom of the open road. There’s a lot to like. It wouldn’t be a huge stretch for Kristy and I to hop aboard a Harley and see the country on two wheels.

Harley Davidson enthusiasts are similar to the Airstream crowd — both groups are passionate about their iconic made-in-America products. Bikers love biking the way campers love camping. It’s all about travel, freedom, and escape. Free spirits abound. Hmmm, maybe we should get a bike?

Nah. Not only do I attract weird injuries, I’ve also had more than one person carelessly steer their moving vehicle into mine at high speed. What concerns me is not so much the bike, but OTHER people — people in SUVs sipping lattes as they change radio stations while texting their cousins. So I’ll probably never own a motorcycle, but I will always appreciate Sturgis and the people who do.

—-

Sturgis is all about camping, both tent camping and RV camping. We camped at a place called Shade Valley — a MASSIVE 396-ACRE campground with impressive facilities (including on property tattoo parlor and roadhouse bar). What’s really striking about this place is that it’s only open for 2 weeks a year! Most people book their Sturgis campsite well in advance. They want you to book for a full week, and plenty of people apparently do. Shade Valley was a good choice for us — a pleasant camping environment, close to town, and a well managed facility.

Why didn’t we stay at Buffalo Chip? We’ll be happy to stay at Buffalo Chip someday, but this visit to Sturgis was pulled together at the last minute. (We call our company “Walkabout” because we tend to meander and go where the wind takes us. This time it took us to Sturgis.)

It’s said that Buffalo Chip is a much wilder, noisier place. Of course, the nightly concerts add to the panache and the rowdiness.  Am I the only one who finds it hilarious to see Bob Dylan and Ozzy Osbourne on the same marquee?

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Sure, I don’t post as often as some. But hey, who else gives ya a FRICKIN’ TV SHOW in their blog? (Oh, I guess Diablo Cody does — in RED BAND TRAILER. Anyway…)

You must agree that this is highly unusual. I’m the one man band of film making. (All we need is one of those giant drums strapped to my chest.) If “Long Long Honeymoon” is a blog, then our tow truck is a Tonka.

But enough with the failed SAT analogies. I digress…

Let’s focus on the topic at hand: Michigan’s UPPER PENINSULA. What is there to say about the U.P.? Quite a lot, actually. I’ll SAY it once I’ve got time to TYPE it. Stay tuned to this space.

In the meantime, as Einstein taught us, a picture is worth a thousand words.

His famous equation? p = 1000w

This MOVING PICTURE is 9:25 (565 seconds) in length. At 24 frames per second, it contains 13,560 pictures. Applying our simple formula, that equals 13,560,000 words!

Hmmm, over 13 million words… I am getting long-winded.

I really like this video, even though it’s a little more … somber? than our norm. It reflects the emotions we experienced when traveling through the remote, sparsely populated area. A shipwreck museum, while fascinating, isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs!

I particularly enjoy the sensation of being “out there,” and for us the U.P. qualifies. Rest assured that we loved seeing the U.P.

If you enjoy LongLongHoneymoon.com, tell friends, family, and random strangers! Pass it on! YOU are our marketing department, my loyal peeps. I’m too busy fiddling with camera gadgets…

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This video about Chicago is one of our lengthiest, with a running time of 8:00. It’s not exactly Lord of the Rings, but it’s longer than my original “Hello Blog!” days. I guess we’ll toss it out there onto the Internets and see what happens.

So, what about camping in Chicago? Truth be told, it’s quite difficult to camp in Chicago, especially if you want a full hookup campground. We’re getting a little soft these days, wanting to take showers and all. There are not many (or to be more accurate, not ANY) full hookup choices available near the city center. Maybe one of these days someone will open a downtown RV resort, but it hasn’t happened yet.

So we opted to stay outside the city and drive in for exploration. There are benefits to this approach. Namely, instead of parking downtown in a barbed wire parking lot, we enjoyed a rural camping experience. There are obvious downsides too, in that visiting the city required about an hour’s drive along packed tollways. We experienced a daily commute, Chicago style. (The toll roads would be much more efficient were it not for the, ahem, toll booths.)

I’ve done plenty of business in Chicago over the years. My usual routine was to arrive at O’Hare Airport, take a cab to the city, and check into my hotel. Most of my impressions of the city were thus formed by hotels, various office buildings, and the core downtown area. This RV camping trip was educational because we were able to visit the suburbs and neighborhoods outside the city center. I feel we got a well rounded taste of the city since we saw it from a commuter standpoint.

Food? Chicago is famous for its unique food, and we had our share. We sought out a number of interesting local establishments. In the video you will see several, including Lou Malnati’s deep dish pizza, and the infamous Superdawg (which is actually quite delicious as hot dogs go). We also grabbed a fantastic heavy metal burger at Kuma’s Corner, and a family style Italian meal at Tufano’s. I’ll do a video about Tufano’s in a future post. One of the reasons we travel is to experience different cultures, and food plays a key role. In Chicago any pretensions of a healthy diet were tossed out the window. This town is not known for its tofu.

Back to the camping. Our campground was a place called Lehman’s RV Resort, located in Marengo, Illinois. The people were friendly, the campsites were nice enough (paved pads & full hookup) in a utilitarian sort of way. Not a lot of trees in our section. It was a good choice for us, but the distance from the city will make it less attractive for some. You will be faced with an hour or so drive into the city. If you’ve ever spent any time in Los Angeles this is no big deal, since in Southern California it takes an hour to cross the street.

As for Chicago itself? You get all the benefits of a massive metropolis, delivered with a pleasant Midwestern attitude. What’s not to like?

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We’ve found all sorts of fun places along the way. Some new, some old. Some pricey, and some cheap. Some fancy, and some… like Chili John’s in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

We arrived in Green Bay on a steamy summer day. What better way to satisfy one’s appetite than a bowl of SPICY CHILI? Admittedly, this is not really summer food.

Chili John’s is one of those places that no doubt thrives on bitterly cold Green Bay weather. I’m sure that in the dead of winter, a heaping bowl of hot chili is just what the doctor ordered. Although we were here in summertime, Chili John’s was nevertheless on our short list of local restaurants. It met all the necessary criteria.

Historic? Check (since 1913).

Unique menu and/or theme? Check (chili!).

Loaded with character? Hmm

First impressions of Chili John’s were less than flattering. The business was founded in 1913, and the original recipe hasn’t changed in 80 years. So we arrived expecting some sort of historic location. But in fact Chili John’s is now located in a battleship gray strip mall next door to a music shop named Dick’s. If I’m being honest, the exterior is about as charming as a bus station.

But things brighten up a bit when we step inside. The restaurant is dominated by a long central lunch counter. There are also a few tables and chairs scattered throughout the room.

Chili John’s interior decor registers a faint blip on the charm meter, but it holds promise in a utilitarian sort of way. There’s something about the elbow-to-elbow lunch counter experience that recalls days of yore. It’s not hard to imagine long rows of hungry men wearing horn-rimmed eyeglasses and thick winter coats, each scarfing bowls of beans and mystery meat.

In the center of the room are large stainless steel pots. Inside those pots, THE CHILI. Now we’re getting somewhere. Nothing fancy — just huge steaming cauldrons of beans, meat, and spaghetti.

Spaghetti?! Yes, Chili John’s does offer an innovative spin on chili.

No, you won’t find truffle oil or pine nuts. But the spice is actually mixed together with the meat. So an order of “hot” chili contains the most meat, while an order of “mild” contains the least. The chili itself consists of said meat layered upon a bed of beans and, optionally, spaghetti noodles. I was assured that the proper way to order Chili John’s signature entree was to include spaghetti.

From a certain point of view, this “chili” is a form of spaghetti sauce. Yes, it’s technically chili (and lacks the tomato twang of true spaghetti sauce), but it’s sort of like piling a huge mound of meat sauce & beans on top of a modest arrangement of spaghetti noodles. Per our usual decadent chili ritual, we crammed our bowls full of extra cheese, sour cream, onions, and jalapenos.

So, how was the sauce, err, chili? It was fine. At the time of our meal, I was underwhelmed — probably because we were downing a bowl of hot chili in the middle of JULY.

But in the days since we departed Chili John’s, a funny thing happened. I found myself thinking about the chili. In fact, I daresay I began CRAVING a second bowl of the stuff.

Chili John’s spin on chili really is … different. It’s got something to do with the spicy meat. I’ve never had chili quite like this chili. At the very least, you’ve gotta give Chili John’s credit for doing it their way.

If I lived in Green Bay, I’d go to Chili John’s along with the rest of the locals. Maybe often. If you find yourself passing through Green Bay, give Chili John’s a try. Go for the hot! In addition to a satisfying meal, you’ll get a taste of Green Bay history.

And by the way, in an odd twist of history, there’s one other location of Chili John’s — in California! Many years ago the owners of Chili John’s sold license rights to the secret recipe and brand to another person. They opened a Chili John’s in Burbank! So if you are in Los Angeles and are craving a bowl of unusual “old school” chili, you too can visit Chili John’s.

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