US-89. Return Trip Day 8. "Returning Home"

Friday, July 29th 2016.  The goal for the day was to leave Prescott and arrive home without doing any fancy routes, which was about 375 miles. 

I got off at a decent hour and was able to get down to the base of the mountain in about 15 minutes. This same route on the way up took about 2 hours due to slow moving traffic. But, today there were really no cars.

I took the 89 to US-60 and grunted out the miles to the I-10.  The temperature was already at 90 degrees by 8:00 AM. Soon it went over 100 degrees and would stay there until I crossed the top of the Ortega highway 6 hours later.    

I-10 was as I expected, hot and windy.  The heat peaked at 112 degrees around the Morongo casino in Palm Springs. 

I took the I-215 and went from Perris to Lake Elsinore on the I-74.  Over the Ortega highway and I was home at 3:00 PM.  

Altogether, the round trip between California and Illinois took 7,213 miles and 18 days. 

US-89. Return Trip Day 7. "On to Prescott"

Thursday, July 28th 2016. The goal for today is to ride from Bandalier, New Mexico to a camp spot on the other side of Prescott Arizona, which is about 525 miles away. 

I leave the campground in good time around 7:00 AM after seeing Sue and her chihuahua out on their morning walk. 

I turned left at the park gate on the road toward Los Alamos.  The road almost immediately turned into a very tight and twisty mountain road, with the very first turn at 10 MPH.  Coming toward me continuously were Los Alamos employees in their small commuter cars.  I had no traffic on my side of the road.  The temperature takes a dip to 49 degrees as I clime in elevation. I pass through Jamez Springs, which looked most interesting and rustic. 

I eventually connect up with the I-25 South and then connect with I-40 West, where I just hunker down for several hours of driving. 

Just before the town of Grant I turn South on US-117.  I then enter El Malpais National Conservation Area.  I had not heard of Malpais, so I take the opportunity to stop at the visitors center where I review the indian and lava flow pictures. I continue on the 117 and encountered some really great views and road. I am glad I selected the 117.  

I eventually hook up with US-60 going West. Once again it was simply a case of hunkering down and doing some miles. I get past Show Low, then things start to happen.  I encounter a fairly substantial rain storm. I decide not to put on my rain gear since I was already getting hot. I eventually got almost too cold from the storm.  

From Show Low to Prescott the temperature, elevation and air quality changed many times. First it was cold, then it would get to 101 degrees, then back to cold. I sew many storms and I also encounter three fires. I am having a hard time differentiating between the smoke and the rain falling from storms. I think sometimes it is both smoke and rain that I was seeing. 

My plan B is to camp before Prescott, but the camp sites to be way too hot. So 11 hours into the ride I decide to push on and get past Prescott. After I  grind my way through the “Prescott Valley” and the millions of nu-syncronized stop lights I finally get past Prescott. Right after Prescott the National Forest starts on I-8, and about 1 mile after the forest service sign is the While Spar Campground. I am very relieved to get a decent site at the campground. 

Betsy, the campground host wants to let me know that a bear had been spotted about 50 miles away some 3 weeks ago. I told her that I was not concerned after just coming from Yellowstone, Glacier and Rocky mountain national parks.  Betsy was very nice and very glad to see more people coming to her campground.  The campgrounds were in excellent shape and I let her know. 

I setup camp, head back to Safeway which was only 5 miles away and grab some groceries for that night and next morning. The campground was nice and quiet that night.

US-89. Return Trip Day 6. "Bandelier National Monument"

Wednesday, July 27th, 2016. The goal today is to ride from Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado to Bandelier National Monument in New Mexico via Taos, which is about 325 miles. 

I wake at 6:00 AM and hear a guy screaming happily. I heard him last night and really thought nothing of it because I was sure it was just someone having a good time. But, now I can hear that his yelling and screaming is in pure gibberish. Is he doing some Colorado drug?  I then see an older man come out of the rest room after brushing his teeth go into the same camp. He quietly walks into the camp behind the trees where the screaming is coming from. Then I see two teen girls come out of the camp, stop and start talking about shopping. They all can hear this man screaming, but none of them appear to take any notice. They all appear to be used to his screaming. 

Then Ann comes by in a jacket, as I am now in my Tee-shirt. Ann tells me to have a great time. She says Tom keeps asking if I have left already. Not sure why anyone really cares. 

I then decide to recover from the dumpster my top-roman meal from the previous night. I used my extended selfie stick to hook onto the garbage bag at the bottom of the bear dumpster.  I pull the bag up and grab my unused meal. I am a happy camper. 

At this same time another man has left his coffee machine from his RV outside the rest room.  A deer has come up and is staring at the coffee machine, sometimes approaching it and then backing off. I am about to take a picture of the deer when a lady came out of the rest room and scares the deer away.

I pack up my gear and go over the park café where I have a huge stack of pancakes and eggs. I am stuffed.

I head off to Durango, where once again a small town and the traffic is terrifying me. I finally got out of town and headed towards Taos.

The road to Taos is probably the best stretch of road on the trip. There are hardly any cars, the weather is just perfect around 70 degrees, the actual road is in good shape and the speed limit lets you move at a decent pace. I continue past chimney rock and over a mountain range until I hit the bleak high desert about 30 minutes outside of Taos. 

Just before entering Taos, I am casually cruising and come over a very small hill. All of a sudden you think the circus had come to town. Lining both sides of the highway are booths of goods, and all kinds of strange people selling them. There are also people stopped on both sides of the road, for this is the Rio Grande Gorge. I pass over the gorge and it is a fine site to see earth dropping hundreds of feet down.  All of this suddenly in the middle of a desert. 

I enter town and quickly find a café to get a New Mexican lunch. I have a vegan blue corn tortilla disk with green chili.  It is wonderful.

I leave café and as normal the GPS sends me in the wrong direction. I go 5 miles back in the direction I came through with horrible summer traffic. I find another route back around the city and I am soon following the rio grande to Bandelier National Monument. The temperature along the river eventually gets to 98 degrees. 

I get to Bandelier and there was no one working the ranger both at the gate, but there is a sign that says to go to the visitor center if you have a pass and show it to the ranger. So, I drive 5 miles to the visitor center, go in and hand my pass to the ranger. He looks at it and says “looks good, now go back to the entrance and check yourself in for camping”.  I cannot believe it.  I could have just gone to the campsite in the first place. I found a site and then go to the automated machine to get my $12 ticket. This is quite a deal as compared to Mesa Verde at $32 dollars. Really, the only difference is Mesa Verde has showers , a store and a laundry. Both parks have flush toilets, which Tom and Ann hold as something most dear. 

It is nice going to these lesser national parks and monuments. They are about 10% full, if that. I had lots of options at Bandalier and got a great site near the rest rooms, water and bear box. I just hope tonight I do not have any crazy person screaming. 

At Bandelier, unless you are camping you must take a bus to visit the park. There are ruins to visit, but since I finished getting setup up around 5:00 PM, the visit was out of the picture. You also must walk to the ruins, which also adds more time, unlike Mesa Verde where you can drive right up to most ruins. 

I am sitting writing this blog and Dan and Wanda come by with there little Chihuahua dog. Dan comes up to my table and tells me he is from San Angelo in Texas. They have the RV at the bottom of the hill, and used to be camp hosts in a neighboring campground for 4 years. Dan knows quite a bit about the population of New Mexico and gave me tips on how to visit an Indian pueblo.

He once had a friend that was a chief's son. He said he sat out with them on one trip and then they started drinking a week brew that they had collected.  Dan then decided it was time to leave once they starting getting a little looped. I talked to Dan about a half hour about the cultures of New Mexico and how they do, and do not get along. Really interesting guy to talk to.

US-89. Return Trip Day 5. "Mesa Verde National Park"

Tuesday, July 26th 2016.  The goal for today is to ride from Ridgway, Colorado to Mesa Verde National Park, which is about 135 miles away. 

I get up, pack all the gear and then made one trip down the gravel slope just carrying all the gear, instead of using the cart. I thought my arms would fall off as I struggled with all the gear . I just could not bring myself to travel all the way down the slope to get a cart. 

I make my way back to Ridgway and head up into the hills towards Telluride. This is now the ride that I was expecting. I am now going up to 11,000 feet with twisting roads, and big trees and cool air. 

I make it about half way to Mesa Verde and I run into 4 adventure riders that came up behind me at a road construction stop. The leader tells me he was in Mesa Verde the day before and I should immediately when I get there go all the way to the end to see the Cliff Palace.  He says that Cliff Palace the best. He also tells me that he and his friends are from Atlanta and had shipped their bikes out for a 3 week Colorado, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico and Arizona tour. One of his other friends was from Denver, but had already left the group.  I spend the next hour following them through the roads at a higher rate of speed than I would have traversed by myself, but I wanted to hang with some other bikers, even if it was just for a bit. I was having so much fun with them that I miss my turn by ? mile because I was not paying attention. 

I arrive in the town of Manos where I have an incredible vegan burrito with red and green chili sauce. After lunch I go to Mesa Verde and grab a great camp site, because for once I was there early in the day. As I pull up to my camp spot there was a dear standing right there in the site eating leaves. Got to love the wildlife in Colorado. I have seen about every kind of animal running into the road in front of me.  Dear, Elk, Fox, squirrels and other things that I cannot name. 

I had finished setting up around 1:00 pm and then head out to the Cliff Palace.  When I get there I find out that you need to have purchased a tour ticket to actually get to step foot in the place There was no way I was going to be able to get in since it was already after 2:00 pm and the tours only run through 4:00 PM. A major Bummer, but not expected these days.

I really like this Park. It is big but not overly crowded.  There are actually many ruins that you can see or visit if you have the time. There is also lodging at “Far Point”, which is half way through the park.  It looks like some of the rooms have great views all the way to Ship-Rock.  On good days you can see four states from the high point in the park.   The park also has free showers and coin laundry. What a deal!  I will take Mesa Verde over Yellowstone any day of the week. I need to come back and spend more time here. 

Tonight I will see what I can find to cook up in the Park general store.   I had purchase two top-roman packages at the Park general store. Tomorrow, I will be off to Taos and Santa Fe areas. Where I will end up, I do not know. 

As I am putting the cover over the bike for the evening, Tom comes by on the way to the rest room. “This is quite a touring bike” says Tom who comes from the Estes Park area. I tell him that it was not originally a touring bike but I made some changes. Tom is interested in how I get the whole camp on the bike. Tom says “My wife and I carry many things in our RV. I would love to get by with less”.  I talk to Tom for about 20 minutes before his wife comes by to see what Tom is up to. Ann wants to know what Tom is talking about. The two of them make quite an interesting pair. I bet you could sit with them around their campfire for hours talking about everything from A to Z. I am wearing my old goose down jacket that I bought when I was 16.  Ann says “you can tell you are from California because you are wearing a jacket”.  

While cleaning up after dinner, I accidentally throw the second unused top roman away in the bear Dumpster with the garbage in a plastic garbage bag.  I wake in the middle of the night realizing my mistake.

US-89. Return Trip Day 4. "Pa-Co-Chu-Puk-Ridgway"

Monday, July 25th 2016.  The goal for today is to ride from the Rocky National Park in Colorado to somewhere near Durango, Colorado, which is about 375 miles.  

I wake early to the sounds of the elk. I look out of my tent and there is an elk 5 feet away licking the camp grill, which is what they really appear to like to do. There are more elk on the hills than anyone can count. They are everywhere.

As I am standing at the picnic table in a very half trance contemplating cooking, Teresa from a campsite on the other side of the road and says “Can I ask you about some tips on motorcycle camping for my son?”.  Teresa says that her son has recently purchased a BMW motorcycle, as well as a car and is now attempting to motorcycle camp. I spend the next 20 minutes going over my gear and letting Teresa know the advantages of each piece of gear.  As we go over the gear, Teresa takes notes and in the end says "His birthday is less than a month away." Teresa is a very good listener, and I hope her son does not mind my recommendations.

I quickly pack up and I am on the road at 7:45 am. I head down to the town of grand lake and grab a second breakfast of egg a spicy burrito from a local deli. I ask the girl working the deli where a gas station might be.  She points out the window across the street and says “right there. It does not really seem like a gas station but it is.”  I look out and there were two pumps in front of a plain Jane building.

The next 2 hours traveling on the 40 through Winter Park is just divine. I go up over the mountains and then down the other side. I then hook up with I-70 West, which is a really incredible ride considering it is an interstate. At one point I go through the long Eisenhower tunnel that was built in 1973, and then descend rapidly for miles. I stop at a rest stop and Joy stops me and asks where I am going. Come to find out that she and her husband have only been riding for 2 years, but they have had 5 bikes and currently own 4. Joy has fallen in love with riding and seeing the sights after she retired from the school system. We chat for about 20 minutes about all kinds of things, before people pointing to rams on the cliffs got her better attention.

For about the next 5 hours the road just goes down hill in so many ways. The elevation gets lower and lower, and the temperature is getting hotter and hotter. At one point the landscape looks just like the desert around Las Vegas. I am getting very depressed because I was expecting to be riding in the mountains on my way to Durango.

I am on the road to Telluride on the 550, and thinking that I had waited too long to get a campground since it was now 4:40 PM, but then suddenly in front of me is a state park called Pa-Co-Chu-Puk-Ridgway and it has camping.

I immediately pulled into the park and asked the lady at the stop if they had any tent spaces available. She said “yes, I believe we have three left”.  I do the paperwork and pay her. then she tells me that it was a walk in campsite. I asked how far must I walk, and she said it was from where I was standing to a tree just 30 yards away. I say “that is not bad. Thanks”.

When I get to the parking lot,  I randomly choose number campsite number 286 on the pole, not knowing where it was. There was no camping slip on the post in the parking spot so I grabbed the site quickly, less anyone else grab it. I then see carts where people were loading their goods and transporting them to the camp spot. Great deal to have a cart, at least that was what I thought at the time.

I grab a cart and loaded my gear into it. I head over a bridge on a very rapidly flowing stream and then encounter a gravel path. I then find out that the path goes up a hill. I am pulling this cart, loaded with my gear from the motorcycle up a hill and slipping in the gravel. I finally make my campsite and I am totally out of breath because of the distance and the elevation. I swear the site must be a quarter mile away from the parking spot.

I unload my gear and go back down to the bike. I then ride about 8 miles in to Ridgway where I had a wonderful pizza rustica and a glass of local brew. While at the bar I talk to a couple and another local lady. One of the ladys was on a kick that nothing ever changes in the town. She says "You can leave and come back, and then in 15 minutes get all caught up with what changed while you were gone: which was nothing." It was an interesting conversation. Nice people.

I then ride 8 miles back to the campground and back up to the site, where I get the bike covered.  I then hike  back to the campsite crossing the steam and up the gravel path. I am exhausted and need to go to bed very badly.

US-89. Return Trip Day 3. "Rocky Mountain National Park"

Sunday, July 24th, 2016.  The goal is to ride from Crawford, Nebraska to Rocky National Park in Colorado, which is about 275 miles.

I get up early, take a shower and I am on the road by 7:00 am.  I want to beat the winds, but it was not long before the winds kicked up around 10:00 am.  The roads are empty as I headed South towards Scotts Bluff. Unexpectedly, the ride is rather cold and I had to get my cold weather gloves out to stay warm.  Crawford had many hills and trees, and was rather beautiful.  The landscape now gives way to the flat lands. 

I stop in Scotts Bluff for a second breakfast and as I am coming back to the bike a guy in a pickup truck stops and asked questions about the bike. He wants to know if the bike was comfortable for long rides. I tell him it was since I had modified the bike just for that purpose.

I arrive at the visitor center at Scotts Bluff National Memorial and ride the step and scenic road to the top of the bluff through the 3 tunnels. The views are great and I can see why this point was such a navigation tool for the early settlers crossing the country.

I leave Scotts Bluff  get on the main I-80.  I try using the navigation app on the iPhone once again, after it really messed me up in Salt Lake city.  The app screws up once again. The app tells me to exit the highway and then immediately go back up the on ramp on the other side.  The app for some crazy reason thinks that the ramp was the “fastest” way, even faster than the 80 miles per hour by staying on the highway.  I double checked the setting for the fast route that very morning. I can never trust the app again.

I made good time until I hit the city of Estes Park in Colorado. I can not believe how busy the town is. I get caught in a 30 minute bumper to bumper traffic jam in the town. The town of Estes park is the pits. Traffic jams, stores, building and many people walking the streets  The canyons in Estes Park terrify me to the is day. In 1976, on the way to college, Phil my room mate and I came though the canyon just after a terrible flood where many people were trapped in the canyon and died. The 1976 flood is recorded as the worst on record.

Once in the Rocky Mountain National Park the road is still bumper to bumper but manageable.  The road ascends to 12,000 feet in the Alpine, where Elk stand by the edge of the road. People are stopping their cars and taking pictures of the Elk. At one point the road is backed up 2 miles while people take pictures. The tundra is much like what I saw on the bear tooth highway, except this time it did not sleet on me.

I descend on the highway and stop at the Timber Creek Campsite where I am lucky enough to get one of the last campsites. I really believe that if I had come 15 minutes later then I would have been out of luck getting a site. I take the site next to the dumpster. I hope Mr. bear will not be too aggressive.  I re-hydrate some Louisiana beans and they are actually really good.

The sun goes down early behind the mountains and the campground is immediately cold. As I am sit writing, there is a family of four just next to me just finished dinner. The daughter gets out her guitar and starts playing classical and other great sounding music.  She is quite good. Then a few minutes she starts whistling along with the music. I am pretty good at whistling, but she was really good. I would say that if she is a 10 at whistling, then I am a 2. 

I finish making my blog notes and I am standing next to the bike just admiring the mountings. The girl stops playing the guitar and comes up to me and asks me if she was bothering me.  I tell her “no, quite the contrary. I really enjoyed the concert in the park while I was writing.” She introduces herself as Maria and asks if I am  writing a novel. I tell her that I was just creating some notes for my blog.  We talk for about an hour. At one point her dad comes over and I talked to him for a good bit. 

Maria tells me that she had just graduated from high school in Austin Texas, but instead of going immediately to college, Maria has decided to live with a family in Spain for year. She said the family in Spain does not speak any English and her Spanish is very limited.  We talked about school and what she might want to do when she got back. Maria also tells me that the songs she was playing on her guitar were her own compositions. I was really impressed with her curiosity and zest for life.

US-89. Return Trip Day 2. "Hudson Meng"

Saturday - July 16, 2016. The goal is to ride from Pierce, Nebraska to somewhere around Crawford, Nebraska after visiting the Hudson Meng bison site, which equates to about 425 miles of riding.

I then get up after 6:00 am, brake camp and head north on I-20. As I ride away I see a rainbow over the prairie and two young bulls butting heads over a pond of water.

The air is still and easy to ride in, but after 10:00 am the wind starts in again from the South. The wind continues for hours and then shifted from the North. I-20 is an easy ride and well paved.

Nebraska was the first love of my Western life. When I was 18, I went to work on the Hudson Meng Bison kill dig and quickly fell in love with the West, he clouds and their amazing size as they crossed the endless landscape for miles. I just loved the hugeness of the sky. I used to sit on a hilltop and see a train miles away cross the plains. If it was not for my love of Nebraska, then I never would have went to the University of Arizona where I continued and enhanced my appreciation for the Western landscape.

I continue on past Chadron, Nebraska and on to Crawford and head North on 15 miles of gravel roads. I am a bit reluctant to go gravel, especially gravel road in ranch lands of the badlands, but I badly wanted to see the Hudson Meng site once again. After about 10 miles of riding I get my gravel legs, and the road becomes easy. The road snakes across train tracks, buttes and ravines in the badlands.

I arrive at the Hudson Meng site and find a full rest room along with the new forest service center that houses the dig. I find 4 employees working at the site, and I was immediately taken on a tour of the facilities. Of course I had to tell them that I was there on the dig in 1974, which they love. The site was interesting and full of artifacts and information. I unearthed the largest Alberta Point to date at the site. I leave the building and I can see the trees where we used to camp in 1974. The ranger told me that a fire in 2012 had killed the trees and all the other trees in the surrounding area. The hill where I used to sit looking out over world was now covered in black dead trees. The pond where we used to swim was still there. I told the ranger what we did and she was horrified, but when you sleep in a tent, it is 100 degrees in the day and you only get a shower twice a week, then jumping in a ranch pond is no big deal.

The rangers suggest that I camp at Fort Robinson, which is just down the road from Crawford. I ride to Fort Robinson and immediately remember being there before. This is where we used to use to get our twice a week showers. Coming out of the office at the fort, there is a guy ogling my bike. Tom tells me that he also had a vstrom and he wants to know about a number of the farkles I have on the bike. I spend the next 20 minutes telling Tom about some of the more visible farkles. I think that I need to create a document with all the farkles I have and their advantages. Then, when I run into someone that is interested then I can hand them the document.

Fort Robinson was started back in about 1874 to deal with the Indians. I setup my campsite and then head back to Crawford for a dinner and beer. Yet another good meal at the bar talking to the locals. That night my campground neighbors leave out food, so they are savagely attacked by raccoons at 4:00 AM. The screens are heard, the accusations fly when they figured out what happened. for the next 2 hours their flashlights come out whenever i move in my tent.

US-89. Return Trip Day 1. "Illinois to Pierce Nebraska"

July 22, 2016.  The goal is to ride from Roscoe, Illinois to Pierce, Nebraska. About 550 miles.

I left Illinois at 6:00 am. The night before it had rained hard and the roads were still a bit wet. My plan was to go down the I-51 and meet up with the I-88. The 51 was shut down so I meandered down to around Dixon, Illinois on the 2, which I should have done in the first place.  Dixon, Illinois was the primary town Ronald Reagan grew up in.

While stopping along the Rock River to get a mid morning snack at McDonalds, an old grizzled guy, with a beard and sizeable midrange sitting in a booth tells me "That jacket looks hot, you sure you want to wear it"? I look at the guy and I can see him in my mind him sitting on a Harley with a viking horned helmet.  I respond "Where I am going, you really need a jacket like this".  I leave without further comment.

 I then get to the 88 and found out it is now a toll road. Either I forgot or never knew. But, I was not going to drop coins in from a motorcycle,  so once again I meandered using the 2 into Iowa. I finally got back to the 88 after much weaving around the countryside. In Iowa the 88 is not a toll road. I then went head down for the next 9 hours to get to Willow Creek State Park, near Pierce Nebraska. Really nothing to report during the day other than going against the wind about 95% of the time.

I pulled into willow creek park expecting it to be packed and found out that it was at best 10% full. I picked a spot next to the facilities, which was a mistake because a security light comes on when it gets dark. The humidity must have been 95% because it was just dripping off my nose all night long. No sleeping bag required.

Before going to bed, I ride into town and eat at Taylors restaurant. I have many a great conversations with the locals and other out of towners at the bar.  One fun couple at the bar challenges me with the question "Would you trust me if I told you something?"  I tell them "Yes, because you are from Nebraska".  I am not sure that was what they wanted to hear but it was the truth. I think I would have trust anyone in the restaurant that night.  It was just that kind of town.

About 4:00 AM a thunderstorm rolls in hard and rocked the tent for the next 2 hours. The tent does very well and never leaked a drop. The bike was safe and secure under its cover. A good way to ride out the storm. I felt good that I could go through any weather and make it just fine.

US-89. Intermission. "Working From Illinois"

July 16th, 2016.  Roscoe, Illinois. 

I spend almost the next 2 weeks working from Illinois. On Saturday I meet up with a former employee and my good friend Kimmie. I suggested we met in Galena Illinois, as she was coming from Iowa. We did a quick tour of US Grants former home and then went down town to grab a bite to eat in downtown Galena. 

On the way back home I take a detour to Freeport, Ill and I decide to pay my respects to past relatives. I have a hard time finding the cemetery where they all are.  I finally find the cemetery but could not find the relatives graves. This is scary considering I used to take my grandma here all the time.  

Accepting defeat, and acknowledging that I need to figure out where they are all buried,  I drive back home through downtown Freeport. Turning a corner I ran smack into “Union Dairy”.  I used to take grandma here when we came to Freeport to visit the relatives.  When grandma was younger, she use to come her here all the time.  Unfortunately the ice cream was just too rich for her on the last trip and she got sick. The dairy was celebrating their 100^th anniversary.  That means that grandma would have been 23 when they first opened. Grandma was born in 1893.

On Sunday I decide to go to Lake Geneva, WI for the mail boat ride, which I just love to take when ever I can. Unfortunately, nobody else in my family has the same feeling for the boat ride. I get to lake Geneva and find that the gale force winds are just too much for me. The mail boat is running but I was not going to be on it.  I wave goodby to the boat as it boards passengers.

I love Lake Geneva. I have been coming her since I was born. You can see pictures of me standing in the lake in my underwear eating an ice cream cone. One time as a teenager I was standing on the main street corner with Grandma and she points to a building a few feet away and says “That used to be a speak easy, and I used to go in by sliding down a coal chute". 

I just had to share the grandma story with someone, so I walked up to a man leaning against the building banging on his iPhone and tell him the story.  He loved it and smiled. Satisfied, I just walk away. 

The relatives used to come up to the pier for dances, back in the day. Not sure if dances are still going on at the pier. Love to go some time.