It started with a do-it-yourself crossing of the Arctic Circle, and having our pictures made at the sign. A couple of years later, we stumbled across a sign that boasted: "The Most Westerly Highway Point In North America." The following year, we paused beside yet another we passed along the way: "Halfway Between The North Pole And Equator." Thus began our now-and-then quests to pose for pictures at signs at specific spots on the globe, or go to places we had never been, and have fun along the way. We are still doing both. Like they say: "You only go around once!"
We had never heard of Badwater. Located in Death Valley, and 282 feet below sea level, it marks the lowest elevation in the Western Hemisphere. Though we couldn't find a sign to substantiate the claim, Death Valley is also noted as being the hottest place in North America. The record is 136 in the shade. It was only 122 the day we were there. We picked up this sign on a sidebar day trip while in Las Vegas having real fun. There was yet another sign we picked up that day, too: "Sea Level." Yes, we paused beside that on before descending into what was once a real-life Valley of Death. No, not the six hundred. Just Linda and me. Wouldn't have it any other way.
City limits of bustling Goble, Oregon. In Portland for a meeting, I managed to sneak off to have my picture made at the sign. It wasn't easy. Other than the Goble Tavern, there's nothing in Goble. I went inside to find someone to take the shot. What I walked into was a black-leathered gang of bearded, chain-smoking, chain-toting bikers intent on having fun with the guy who claimed his last name was Goble. "That'll be your last name, all right," one of them chided. "The last of the Gobles." But it was all in good fun. One soon hopped in my rental, and minutes later, snapped this picture.
This was one of those "just for the fun of it" trips. My daughters and I boarded a plane in some very bad weather one Thursday afternoon. After stopping for dinner in Shreveport (actually, an unexpected weather related en route delay), and then changing planes in Dallas, and after a pit stop in Tucson, we eventually spent the night in Los Angeles. In the wee-early morning, we had our pictures made at the Hollywood Sign, then raced helter-skelter to the airport to hop a flight to Mazatlan on Mexico's Pacific coast. It was there where we posed at the Tropic of Cancer sign. Spent Friday night in Mexico. Got on yet another plane the next day, flipped through L.A. and enjoyed a long Saturday night in Vegas. We logged over 6,000 miles that wondrous weekend, and are still talking about it.
