Enough of all that healthy food talk. Here’s to another one of the best burgers in the country!

We first frequented the Ice-Burg Drive-in when visiting Walla Walla, WA with Jerry over a dozen years ago. And before you ask, yes I spelled that right – Ice Burg as in burgers, get it?

Before I go digressing again, suffice it to say that Ice-Burg serves one of the best burgers, and many of the best shakes I have ever enjoyed – both in terms of flavor and atmosphere. And by atmosphere, I do mean the atmosphere because the only seating at Ice-Burg is a round picnic table outside the small joint with dual drive-up windows. A true burger drive-in if there ever was one.

Without a website* – at least that I can find – to research the history of the Ice-Burg Drive-in, I can tell you that it has been around a really, really long time. Plenty of web reviews for Ice-Burg hamburgers reflect on the nostalgia of the place being around in the fifties and sixties. But it was my dad who originally told us to eat there, and he left for West Point some time in the forties! (He also liked to use exclamation points.)

Ice-Burg Drive-In
616 W Birch St
Walla Walla, WA 99362
(509) 529-1793

Sadly, I am at a loss for any data I was hoping to find comparing dates of operation of Walla Walla’s Ice-Burg Drive-In to the original McDonalds or In and Out locations. So let’s just say, it’s been around longer than both. If I am wrong, screwm! (Another favorite saying of Dad’s.) The burgers, fries and shakes at Ice-Burg are still better, by far.

To enjoy the full Ice-Burg experience get there just before the dinner rush, call that dusk. Park down the street and stroll through the quaint Walla Walla neighborhood. Order a cheeseburger, fries and shake at the walk up window and sit at the picnic table. You’ll have your meal in time to watch the cars line up, out the driveway, down the alley, and out of sight.

The burgers are pure unadulterated goodness – flavorful beef cooked just right, with crisp Iceburg lettuce, fresh tomato and onion on a white bun. The fries are crisp and lightly salted. And the shakes, well, there is only one issue with those. With many fruit flavors, coffee, caramel, and other specialties to choose from, you may have a tough time deciding which one to get. Whatever your preference – I like chocolate – be sure to get a spoon. My dad loved milk shakes and malteds, but I always thought it was weird how he never used a straw. Now I know why.

This is not your trendy $9.00 gourmet burger trying to make up for flavor with a big seeded bun, Pasilla peppers and guacamole. I sincerely doubt the Ice-Burg menu has changed much over the years. Although yes, now you can get a veggie burger! The only thing I will never understand is how people will wait in line at the neighboring Jack in the Box drive-in, with such an honest home town burger across the street.

So, where was your best burger? (Home cooked doesn’t don’t count!)

*Don’t be fooled by the IceBERG website link on GoogleMaps. How dare they hijack the listing for such a small town American icon!

Home is where the heart is. And the food. Oh, and my Mom and Dad.

No matter how far we wander, or off track we get, there is nothing nicer than knowing we always have a place at Casa Agredano.

Christmas is a big deal here, loaded with pan dulce, tamales and multiple festivities. From the tamalada to Mom’s New Year’s Day homemade menudo brunch, we cram a year’s worth of visits into one solid month.

My four sisters and all of their kids and grandkids (I stopped counting at 12), keep us busy and entertained, especially on Christmas eve during the White Elephant exchange.

Poor Alex, she didn’t get what she wanted!

There’s lots of catching up to do, especially with friends from our Tripawds community.

Yesterday we had a blast boating with three dogs on Newport harbor, on a classic Southern California winter’s day. I felt kinda guilty having so much fun on the ocean after hearing about the horrible blizzards back east. California Dreamin’ indeed!

Meanwhile, the rig sits outside with birds poopin on the roof, and black streaks accumulating from all of the rain. Inside, it’s cold and lonely, waiting for our return.

We’ll be leaving here soon, and off to our wintertime adventures. Leaving my family will be just as hard as ever.

Since we can’t go any further West, we’ll be heading east toward the Slabs for a spell, then off to Quartzsite for our first snowbird experience. We’ve avoided a Quartzsite pilgrimage for this long, since the snowbirds there mostly consist of old timers and it just seemed too conservative and boring for our taste.

This year, however, we changed our mind, since the hipsters from NuRVers and the Rubber Tramp Rendezvous will be there to add a little life to that party. Or more like a lot of life! Good times are in the works!

Maybe my comparison between New Belgium Brewery’s Tour de Fat festivities in Fort Collins and Burning Man was a bit of a stretch, but you’ve gotta admit that the spirit of creativity and neighborliness is just as incredible for this gigantic yearly celebration of bicycle culture.

I’ve always dreamed of a day when bicycles rule the city. Thanks to Tour de Fat, my little fantasy can happen every summer.

How is one supposed to cram 10 years worth of friendships into a week?

We’ve been traveling down the Pacific Coast for three weeks now, but no matter how long we visit with good friends from our previous life, it’s never enough time to feel like we’ve completely caught up.

Drizzly rain has followed us down the coast from Washington to Northern California. We’re cold and we want to go somewhere warm, darnit.

But during our week-long visit to Humboldt County California, we both sensed a feeling that almost made us want to stay longer, maybe even permanently return, to our old stomping grounds where the land is beautiful and the people are real.

People are so real in Humboldt, that during dinner conversations or over beers, whenever we got together with our friends, not a single one ever pulled out an iPhone or other electronic gadget.

You tell me, when was the last time you sat at a table with people who actually talked, and listened?  Who made eye contact with you instead of staring into a screen?

Humboldt County is a special place like no other. We spent 10 years in this small community and although it wasn’t all good times, it was the last time we ever felt a real sense of community.

Despite the sucky weather, the poor economy and the great distance to any real city, just being there again makes us ask:

What else could you possibly need, when you’re surrounded by such good people and great beauty?

In  the weeks leading up to our departure from Jerry’s Acres, Mother Nature was sending us signals that it was time to go. Or rather, she was sending her minions to tell us.

When we arrived last spring, we would often see deer and even spotted a few Moose.

Then as summer rolled on and the weekenders rolled in on their ATVs, sightings became far and few between. And then there were none.

But once the weather chased away everyone but the crazy few full-time residents, the Moose of Crystal Lakes made their return.

We welcomed the same cow with her calves who had clearly grown up. The deer started showing up in greater numbers. And the coyotes could be heard more often and much closer. By now they are probably making themselves at home, and surely happy that we have left.

Considering the weather back “home” was 13 degrees with a strong chance of being buried in snow the last time we checked, we are happy to be on the road with it getting warmer every day, and glad to have the moose there to look over the place.

Come Labor Day weekend, a twinge of envy and a slight yearning for the past whispers in my ear whenever I hear people talk about going to Burning Man.

Back in the day, we used to go. But when Black Rock City’s population exploded from 200 people in ’92 to several thousand by our last year in ’96, we decided to call it done.

Labor Day weekend hasn’t been the same ever since.

Until now.

Giving a New Meaning to “Fat Tire”

Fort Collins is the epicenter of bicycle and beer culture. Fat tires and big beefy beers go together here like hippies in Humboldt.

As the headquarters for super eco-groovy, New Belgium Brewery, no matter where you go you can’t help but soak up the sudsy vibe of laid back college town living.

New Belgium is the creator of awesome microbrew beer and Tour de Fat, a nationwide day-long costume party held in different cities to celebrate bicycles as a way of life.

The Fort Collins Tour on Labor Day weekend is always the biggest one, and this year some 10,000 people came by bike to toast the two wheeled lifestyle.

On Saturday afternoon, we dropped Wyatt off at doggy day care, then met our friends Mike and Marie to pedal on over to the event. Not knowing what to expect, our costumes were thrown together pretty quick and nothing to be proud of (just wait till next year!).

As more freaks started rolling in dressed in full regalia, we knew this was going to be a fun ride.

For over two hours we pedaled with partying revelers throughout town, whooping and hollering and smiling the entire way. I can’t remember the last time I smiled for hours on end, just cracking up at all of the crazy costumes that people thought up.

Everywhere the parade snaked through town, locals were sitting on the curb whooping back at us.

People had set up cocktail bars on their lawns and thew parties while the parade was going on. From frat boys to old folks, nobody could resist the good cheer the circus brought to town.

What a blast to see the entire community come out and applaud the riders. Nobody was a spectator, everyone was a participant.

After the ride, New Belgium threw a free, day-long concert near their headquarters, with local bands, food, crazy bicycle games and an emphasis on the all-important message of how using bicycles for transportation can build community and save the planet.

Being the bicycling advocate that I am, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend part of Labor Day weekend from here on out.

We’re hooked! Just wait till you see our costumes for next year  . . .

It’s been a quiet week up here at Crystal Lakes . . .

Quiet summer is more like it. Usually. Our moutain abode is one hour from anywhere, and other than the times when weekenders come and inhabit their cabins and stupidly leave food out for the bears, there’s not a lot of excitement up here.

Oh wait, there is an occasional moose and rare wildflower sighting. Now that’s excitement!

We go to town once a week for Wyatt’s bad-boy dog schooling and stock up on provisions. The one hour trip to town is an all-day event.

Otherwise summer’s been spent working on projects for our other entrepreneurial endeavors that will bring in millions for us (hey I can always hope!).

And while the rest of the country swelters in blistering August heat, we are wearing sweats in the morning and long sleeves in the afternoon. A touch of fall is in the air and although afternoon temperatures are in the low 70s, there’s a chill in the air every morning. We are at 8,400 feet elevation after all.

It’s amazing to think how quickly summer flies by in the Rockies, but that’s what makes this place so beautiful. Nothing lasts long enough around here for us to take it for granted.

Including my best girlfriend Renee, who moved back to California a few weks ago. I’m so bummed that she left but we’ll see her again when we head to warmer climates in winter.

But, just this week, fellow road tripper friends Lisa and Sean have decided to lay down some roots in Fort Collins for a while, so that’ll be fun.

This is the first summer we’ve had in years that feels peaceful, beautiful and in sync with all that we treasure in this world.

The feeling isn’t so much because we’re staying put and getting into a routine (we are already talking about where we’re going to spend winter). It’s because we feel like we belong here. This is the first place we’ve ever lived where it feels like our hearts are meant to be here.

The Rockies are being very, very good to us and we are grateful. Thank you Jerry.

There is a magical place, nestled in the hills about 30 miles north of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

A holy, mystical place where you can step back in time.

A place where you can get a handful of miraculous healing dirt, and some of the best tasting roasted chile mixes you have ever tasted.

It is a place where you can commune with the wise one, and feel his words warm your heart. Yes, el Santuario de Chimayo is a sacred place which houses “el pocito” – the small pit of Holy Dirt which many believe has remarkable curative powers – and one legendary miraculous crucifix. But I am referring to el Peregrino Café and Gallery, just across the Plaza of El Potrero. And the wise one I speak of is one Carlos Medina – the Chimayo Chile Man.

This is the place where we first met Charles Medina, where we were first enchanted by his chile spell, and where I had my first tortilla burger. And it is a place where we had to return when passing through Santa Fe. We yearned for some more tasty chile powders, we wanted a tin cross we neglected to buy upon our first visit, and we needed another dose of Mr. Medina’s wisdom.

About the Cross

We may not be very religious, but the small crosses Carlos makes have special meaning to us. After all, Jerry was with us the first time we visited Chimayo. Carlos crafts these crosses – large and small – with strips cut from the original tin roof removed from el Santuario in  1922. We wanted one the first time we saw them, and always regretted not buying it. The small memento we now have hanging on our wall has an even more special meaning since we watched Carlos make and sign after asking how he does it.

About the Chile

The ritual of tasting Charles’ chile mixes alone is well worth the visit to el Chimayo. He’ll have you smell the robust powders and give you a pistachio, but ask you not to chew it. Filling the half shell with chile mix, he’ll explain if it is male or female, and ask if you like hot spice. With dash of salt, he’ll hand you the chile and tell you to chew it with the nut. Your palate will explode with flavor, and Carlos will flip you another nut chaser. Red Number One… Male Green… before you know it you will forget your favorite and start tasting all over again, getting a little history lesson and a few recipe ideas each time.

About the Chimayo Chile Man

Carlos and his sister Sharon Medina Candelario will greet you with big bright smiles as you enter their patio filled with age old artifacts, beautiful artwork, and tasty aromas. They are both talented tinsmiths. They will welcome you with a warm heart, and give you an intriguing history lesson behind any piece you inquire about.

The familia Medina settled in Chimayo sometime in the 1570′s. Yes, that’s fifteen seventy something! And evidence of their history can be seen throughout Chimayo, from street names to ancient graves in the Santo Niño Chapel plaza.

Charles himself seems to embody 500 plus years of wisdom. Our goal was to capture some of his philosophy on video, but he respectfully declined. We made him promise to let us document his chile ritual on camera next time. But this time, I was frantically scribbling notes after touring the Medina gallery with Carlos as our host for nearly two hours…

“To enjoy life, take your time. Those in a hurry can never fully enjoy life.”
— Carlos Medina

Words of Wisdom from Carlos Medina

“Some people put on the wrong attitude when told of bad news,” says Carlos Medina. “There is no reason in life to be sad, mad, or angry. These are three sisters – not daughters of God. Allow one to enter and she will invite the others and throw a party.”

So how to keep the sisters at bay, I asked. “Smile,” he simply said. “But to distribute the power of the smile one must laugh.”

“We must forgive,” Carlos added. “Throughout life, we walk toward the light and leave the shadows behind. We cannot dwell in the darkness.” As an example, he shares, “When you go to bed, ask God to help you forgive those who may have upset you. Then, ask for forgiveness yourself.” He adds, with a  grin, “Because we are not Saints – we are all a little mischievous.”

The best way to enjoy life, according to Carlos? Take your time. “Those in a hurry can never fully enjoy life.”

About religion, he says, “You do not need to believe in God. You need to believe God.” Carlos Adds, “God speaks to all of us from within – we must listen to God within ourselves.”

About prayer, Carlos suggests, “At the end of each day, say out loud [with a heavy drawn out breath] ‘Wealth‘… it is good to provide for those you love, or to be able to help others do the same.” He gives the example of paying someone to build a fence, then adds, “then say to yourself out loud, [again with a heavy drawn out breath] ‘Health‘… for you cannot have one without the other.” He then asks, “What good is it to be rich, and too sick to enjoy it?”

Sharon shared with us her own words of wisdom for being “successful” in life. “Society tells us we must go to school, get a good job, and make lots of money to succeed,” she said while etching a tin cross under the new Mexico sun. But she took Charles’ advice to “Follow your heart.” With a Master’s degree, after working in social work for four years, Sharon followed her heart and now she couldn’t be happier with her lifestyle creating jewelry and artwork outside in the plaza at Chimayo.

Our new annual pilgrimage

Just as tens of thousands of the Faithful flock to el Santuario de Chimayo every Easter – many after walking miles with large crosses on their backs – we too might just be making an annual pilgrimage to Medina’s. But it will have to be during the week. Upon leaving, Carlos shared with us his final words of wisdom – He doesn’t work Saturdays.

Allen’s Fried Chicken and Luckenbach are the only other two places we have specifically returned to after traveling the whole country, aside from visiting family. Now we just need to get back to Pawlet, Vermont for that Roy Egg rooster head we should have bought when we had the chance.

See Also: Mesmerized by Charles Medina

There is simply not enough time to enjoy all the barbecue goodness Texas has to offer. From the big cities and fast highways to every sleepy little town and winding FM (Farm to Market) road, the savory smell of smoking meat can be enjoyed as it radiates from rickety shacks and strip malls alike. It even overpowers the ever present aroma of Texas oil country.

Last year in Luckenbach, René promised me a dinner at Hondo’s in Fredericksburg. This year, she kept her promise. Hondo’s is an informal, self-serve restaurant with a menu sure to please any discriminating taste, and yes, they have BBQ. Place your order and have a seat on the shaded patio sipping a cool tea until your pager blinks. We might have sat inside and stuck around for the live Music if we weren’t taking a break from the Hat Festival.

After seriously considering the brisket, I opted for the special – “a generous portion of whatever David’s been smokin’ all day” – and was informed that the 2 lbs of ribs came just like that, just ribs. So I added some fried onion strings, and was reassured by a sincere “Mmmmmm…” from the woman taking our order.

I traded a bunch of crispy strings for for some of René’s succulent grilled Mahi Mahi salad. There was no way I could eat so many ribs without some fresh greens. And fresh they were.

I would have certainly hurt myself even trying to finish the big ol’ basket of ribs, so leftovers were in order. With some grits and greens topped with remaining onion strings, I got tasty BBQ two days in a row – bonus!

After passing far too many BBQ joints – with names like Fat Boy’s and Bubba’s BBQ – over the next couple weeks, we found another gastronomical treasure at Pop’s Pit in Brookshire, Texas. Pop’s is old school BBQ at it’s best, but these days you’ll even find traditional places like Pop’s Pit on Facebook!

Pop’s Pit is home of the Heart Attack sandwich, chopped beef and sausage. But after ordering the ribs, I spotted the brisket sitting on the counter. It comes sliced or chopped, on a bun or in a bowl, and it looked – and smelled – too good to pass up. I opted for the sliced beef sandwich, and got a funny look when clarifying our side order of beans and slaw. After all, René had just ordered the Suicide Spud wit the same sides, to split. “She’s gonna eat all that?” the woman asked. “No” I said with a grin, we were splitting the side dishes. “I’s gonna say…” was her only reply as she turned to shout our order to whom I presume had to be Pop.

The woman’s reaction was clearly understandable once our food was ready in the walk up window. Another bonus for me: the sausage and chopped beef that comes with the monster baked potato smothered in melted butter and sour cream. The beef was tender and tasty, but leftovers were once again in order. The smoked sausage scrambled up with eggs the next day made for another one of those memorable all day breakfasts.

The final bonus at Pop’s was that we got dinner and a show! Shortly after sitting down at the shaded picnic table with our mess ‘o food, police cars started zipping by with sirens blaring. Then they went the other way, and back again. A parade was about to begin. As I sat licking my fingers, feeling satisfied, and finishing René’s iced tea, she ran off with the camera to capture the colorful Cinco De Mayo celebration passing by.

As paramedics brought up the rear, I felt safe knowing help was nearby if I decided to eat just one more piece of sausage. Allen’s, here we come!

One last word about Slab City*: Freedom

My final answer to those who may question a stop at Slab City based solely on it’s outward appearance is that the whole scene is all about the people, and the freedom they choose to experience – and share – with others.

Boondocking on the Slabs is free, in many more ways than cost. You can’t beat the price, but then it’s free of any services whatsoever too. Life on the Slabs is free of that sense of urgency which has polluted society. It is free of any rules, really, and it’s the people who are truly free.

One could easily drop out of society with residence at Slab City, as I’m sure many have. But we’ve never felt unsafe At the Slabs, and we have met some very fun and interesting folks.

Freedom can be seen in the smiles of anyone at The Range on a Saturday night. Genuine happy faces and permagrins alike share the good vibes and great music. While minding their own business, each person we meet there is always welcoming and warmhearted.

Chance from Airracket sums it up best …

yeah freedom, i’m free to love you.
i’m free to care for you.
i’m free to fly …

Watch the video for our neighbor Dakota who frequently took flight in his self-propelled parasail. He succinctly summarized his own freedom when he answered our question of where he was headed next with, “Wherever the wind takes me.”

We’re thinking the wind wants to blow us North soon to check in at Jerry’s Acres, but Crystal Lakes received another foot of snow last time we checked. So, there’s no rush to get “home” and we are free to take our time. Freedom is a good thing.

A big shout out to Chance for his mind-bending guitar work and lyrics. He’s got some great sounds and will always get ya thinkin’ … Freedom has always been a personal favorite, thanks.

* Until next year.