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Having spent a bit over eight weeks on the roads of the western United States in our “Whealhouse”, Diane and I returned to southern Minnesota a few days ago.  We drove just over 7,500 miles in that time, met many wonderful people, no outright curmudgeons, sampled local foods (both good and bad) and viewed countless vistas of our wonderful country.  The question must be asked, naturally in my native tongue (which is well known for dangling participles everywhere)… “So what did you learn then?”

First.  We live in a land of amazing landscapes, full of diversity (including the people) that all of us should visit.  Past leaders have set aside vast areas for our enjoyment; not the way we enjoy a movie by leaving behind our empty “mega jumbo” popcorn buckets and not quite finished artificially sweetened drinks (which create a substance akin to “The Blob” that I call cinemuck).  We ought to enjoy the outdoor parks we pay for quietly and with the admiration they deserve.  Deserts, mountains, rivers, enormous valleys down to the miniscule flowerlike formations of Carlsbad Caverns; they all deserve our protection along with the “ooohs and aaahs” of our observation.

Second.  We met varied and wonderful inhabitants; aardvarks, birds, coyotes, pronghorns, moose (or meese if you see more than one), and yes, even the bear that wanted the leftovers of our dinner as a midnight snack.  Oh, we met a few people, too; most of whom (?) were simply marvelous to chat with.  I’m not writing to vent along any particular political lines, except to mention that most discussions involving the subject showed an overall “tired of all of it” theme.  Maybe this is the legacy of democracy.

Third.  Change is all around us.  Weather patterns are changing (think of western drought and desert flash floods), landscapes are changing (Mount St Helens comes to mind), values are changing (pot became legal in Oregon while we were there – ‘nough said), people are changing… I don’t think we can expect “the good old days” to mean much any longer.

Fourth (and Final).  Don’t ever, ever, never take shortcuts using a stinky slinky.  If you doubt the sincerity of this, just watch “RV” with Robin Williams from a few years ago.

This blog isn’t finished with our first road trip… we’ll be having numerous adventures from today on.  From niece’s baby showers and granddaughter’s first birthdays to winter in a warm wonderland…. Stay in touch.

Opposites do Attract

This excursion has sometimes been about opposites attracting; no, I don’t just mean the two of us!  When we were at Lone Pine in the Owens Valley of California, we happened to be camped a few miles from Mt Whitney, highest elevation in the 48 contiguous states.  The lowest point in the country is only a bit more than an hour’s drive to the east in Death Valley.  Many times we’ve been in dry, high desert only to discover lush green landscapes over the next ridge.  The past several days have, again, found us in a land of contrast.  Separated by a mere 35 miles, a state line, and time zones are two completely different National Parks. 

We camped at Guadalupe Mountains NP, site of the highest point in Texas.  It’s a dry landscape that happened to turn green while we camped because of heavy rains a few days before our arrival.  We hiked the trail up to Guadalupe peak along with scores of other day trippers from El Paso, Las Cruces and places in the southwest.  It’s a six to eight hour roundtrip climbing to the 8,700 foot top and back, totaling 8.4 miles of “moderate” hiking.  Pleased to report we, who are not in the least climbers of this caliber, made it to within 700 feet (elevation) of the top.  We calculated the time necessary for us to finish and get back to camp and found we’d be to our “tiny home” after dark…. not good.  For us, a hike of 6.4 miles climbing more than 2,500 feet of elevation and returning alive, with all joints and such in working condition is a victory; not to mention a challenge to return one day and conquer the peak!!!

Now the contrast.  We visited Carlsbad Caverns NP, a half-hour drive crossing the New Mexico border and the Mountain Time Zone.  Unpretentious in appearance, the visitor center beckons from atop a ridge of 300 or so feet in height.  We showed our Access Pass (one of several easily available for free admission to NP’s) and reserved space on two tours for the day.  The first was called the King’s Palace and takes you to caverns different from those in the general Big Room, which we also enjoyed seeing between our tours.  We were told to meet our guide in an area at the bottom of the elevator… 750 feet down, more than 400 feet below the floor of the desert we had just driven over to get here.  Thankfully they are fast; I have to admit to more than a touch of claustrophobia.  We stopped at the bottom seconds before the scream escaped.  The door opened to a darkened, cool lobby with concessions and seating spread around.  The tour was a good one with our Ranger, Josh, joking and educating us on a myriad of facts surrounding the geology and time involved to create the amazing things our eyes beheld… like Carl Sagan and his “billions and billions”.  I was just glad they were big spaces!

The second tour was called the Left Hand Tunnel; innocent enough name.  Lee, our Ranger guide for this one, met us back up in the visitor center (another fast ride up, thankfully) and really “made my day” by handing me a lantern with a single stub of a candle in it.  His and Diane’s were both loaded with a full, 6 inches of wax and wick.  Mentioning this, Lee chuckled and said “It’s fine, that one will last at least three hours.”  The walk was to last half as long.  Diane and I were surprised and a bit nervous to be the only two on this tour; which could prove an advantage.  There would only be two witnesses to my hyperventilating, screaming and clawing to get out of the dark.  Seeing the cave by light of a single candle brings you back to what the first visitors experienced with kerosene lanterns; I like that.  Truthfully, I recommend everyone take this tour; you get into a cavern rarely traveled and have many up close and personal contacts with the unbelievable features of Carlsbad.

Before leaving the Park, we experienced the “Bat Flight”.  Even without Michael Keaton, Christian Bale or even Adam West, this is not to be missed.  The sun was setting, shadows were just covering the Natural Entrance to the cave and a Ranger was speaking about bats (did I mention my phobia about winged mice).  As if on que first one, then another few, then a rush of bats… hundreds and thousands of them, came out in a swirl (counter clockwise to be precise, no one knows why) and continued into the gloaming sky for more than an hour.  Watching them flying, evading the attacks of an opportunistic Red Tailed Hawk, was a thrill.  At least that’s what I’ll credit with the chill bumps up and down my spine.  The perfect ending to a great visit to just one of the 59 National Parks we are blessed with.

Now we are approaching the middle of Texas; limitless horizons, no trees and plenty of room for this guy to stretch his arms wide and let go a heartfelt “Yippee”… I’ll let the locals finish with the “Kiii Yaay”.

Who says Arizona deserts are dry?

What might the odds be of traveling 4,500 miles through the western United States before finding a “real thunderstorm”?  Diane and I have now been through the Dakotas, Montana, Idaho, Washington, usually wet Oregon, California, and were finally poured on by Mother Nature in the Sonora Desert outside Tucson, Arizona.  In a trailer, heavy rains and hail sound like being inside a popcorn popper, only louder (though that’s by conjecture).  Oh, and we experienced another hailstorm (in the sunshine) up in the amazing rock formations of Chiricahua National Monument, near tiny Willcox, AZ.  By the way, did you know Wyatt Earp’s brother, Warren, was killed in Willcox following the shootout at the OK Corral in Tombstone?  Amazing what nuggets of history are out lying around, waiting to be rediscovered.

Yesterday was a day of exploring after a long 440 mile trek from San Diego (we have no plans of duplicating that drive, unless we have to cross Nebraska).  We visited Saguaro National Park in the early morning, seeing a coyote, deer, and numerous birds enjoying the fresh water coursing down the hills.  It’s easier to understand flash floods after a rainy night like we had.  In the afternoon we drove to Willcox and toured Chiricahua and its unbelievable geology.  Pictures can never capture the immensity and balance of these columns and spires.  Jaw dropping views are around every corner; Diane commented it was like hitting the fall colors from New Hampshire all the way home to Minnesota a couple of years ago.  Every turn brought up the camera with another “That’s worth a picture”.  I’m just happy we have digital photography now; Kodak processing would have made a killing on us!

We are now at that point in a trip when the maps are showing us closer to home, rather than further.  We’ve still got a couple of thousand miles to go, as we meander through New Mexico, Texas and points north.  Our original estimate of 5,000 miles will be off by quite a bit; none of the extra ones wasted.  The country we’ve seen and the folks we’ve met will give us memories to cherish for time to come.

The next few days will reveal whether I can watch “The Martian” while in Roswell, New Mexico (I think that will be a blast, others say I need to get off the road awhile).

San Diego "The Land of Ahhh's"

Ahhhh, San Diego.  Despite controversy surrounding the meaning of its name (see “Anchorman”), the city is still a beautiful one.  Diane and I arrived here yesterday; staying at the Santa Fe RV Campground which is sandwiched between I-5 and the Amtrak commuter line running north.  Though not entirely akin to the sound of a burbling stream or the waves on a beach, the constant drone of traffic does become somewhat melodic.  We jumped right in the pool and caught an hour of Southern California sunshine after getting “The Whealhouse” set up; then headed to visit friends, Charles and Donna, for the evening after swinging by our old house – they must have watered it well, it sure grew in the past 25 years.

Today we continued our sojourn of sorts; driving to an even earlier habitat location in Ocean Beach…. “OB” to those who’ve lived there.  It’s just not the same without the original “Spaceman of OB” walking on Newport Avenue and hipsters replacing so many hippies we remember.  I suppose time moves on.  We walked out the OB pier and chatted with fishermen not having much luck.  Sand is being scooped and pushed into giant berms along the beach in preparation for El Nino and winter storms.  We managed to split a Hodad’s double bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate malt…. they used to go down so much easier.  Five hours later and I’m still not hungry (a far cry from a Chinese buffet).  Don’t misunderstand; Hodad’s is still a “top ten” place to grab food in San Diego.  The line was twenty or thirty appetites long minutes before the door opened.  We sat at the bar looking out toward “The Black”; a still in operation head shop dating to the late 60’s.

Following lunch we drove through Mission Beach and headed to PB… ok, Pacific Beach to you novices.  We strolled to the end of the Crystal Pier and had a pic taken of us in front of the Capri by the Sea, our first night’s honeymoon stay some 36 years ago.  Then we headed up the hill to Kate Sessions Park, the location of our wedding vows; though today the weather was far from the sun, clouds and sail boats on Mission Bay for a background.  A group of “twenty somethings” found it fun to take our picture where we were married before any of them were born.  One thing I noticed was how many people here have dogs; there seems to be pooches everywhere.  Tons of folks were out today, enjoying a much cooler and cloudy day than has been the norm this summer and fall.  The drought out here is noticeable and a sprinkle today was welcome.  Tonight… more visiting of family and swinging by familiar sites from long ago. 

We’ve driven some 4,000 miles to get to this point; when we leave San Diego we’ll be heading in a generally homeward direction (east and north).  We still have many places to go and some friends to visit along the way.  I’m sure, as well, that we’ll be meeting many new faces around campfires and on hiking trails before the Midwest looms in the windshield.  One favor please; keep autumn around long enough for us to get back.

The Beauty of California

How do you capture an entire week filled with some of the most beautiful landscape and wonderful people?  This worked for Diane and me.  First, we traveled through the foothills of the Sierra mountain range, finding places like Calaveras County (think Mark Twain).  We camped one night at a reservoir campground run by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management).  This place was amazing; campsites for over 160 RV’s (there were a total of five there the night we stayed).  The stars we gazed at in lieu of a fire (caused by the severe drought) were not hidden by ambient light from any nearby cities.  We were unaware that within a mile or so was the cabin Mark Twain lived in while experiencing jumping frogs and the gold rush of 1849.  The next day we made it to Yosemite National Park; an unequalled “Oh, my….” kind of place (that’s what you say each time you look up).  One evening’s campfire at the “Whealhouse” was attended by a National Park volunteer named Al (who has worked all over the country), a couple from Wales, Cherry and Rufus (last visit to the US was in the late 60’s – and, yes, they remembered it) and a young lady named Sarah, enjoying some travel before settling down (recently graduated from Harvard).  The next day we met a young couple from Switzerland, traveling with their 18 month old daughter, and a Navy couple from San Diego, Greg and Erin.  That evening’s fire was every bit as enjoyable as the first.

Diane and I agree that Yosemite is, without doubt, our favorite National Park.  John Muir called it “God’s Tabernacle” and was right on.  Huge trees, majestic granite, gushing waterfalls (though the tap was turned off this year) and great wildlife – even apart from the campfires.  Our drive through the Tuolumne Meadows and Tioga Pass (elevation 9945) yesterday began another day of amazement as we drove down the Owens Valley and stumbled upon Manzanar , one of the relocation camps in WW2 used to hold 10,000 Japanese (most of whom were US citizens at the time).  A humbling place and a must see to get a perspective on what can happen when a government acts before thinking.  We ended the day at Lone Pine Campground at the foot of Mt Whitney, tallest mountain in the 48 states.  Our living room never has looked better than early this morning with the sun coming up over the hills separating us from Death Valley.  It’s amazing to be within a couple hour’s drive from the highest and lowest points in the US. 

I know I didn’t intend this to become a “travel brochure”, but our trip has shown us incredible beauty in our country (which we’d hoped would happen)… we’re 4,000 miles into the drive and we’re halfway at this point!!!  The next few days are beside a lovely lake in southern California (Lake Skinner) where it’s currently 98 above!!!  San Diego beckons next week before we turn the “Whealhouse” toward the east, sort of…

Oregon - Land of Ups and Downs

Gorgeous mountains and streams to forest covered valleys to wide sunny beaches.  The Columbia Gorge with uncountable salmon migrating, to eagles, hawks and flocks of geese.  This is Oregon…. so goes the travel ads.  This is truly beautiful country, filled with very nice people.  A couple of things to mention; sort of an attempt to “level the field” so to speak.  Goat head stickers and Ash White Flies would be a good start.  These little suckers will terrify your toes into never accepting flip-flops again and the flies make conversation difficult outside in the evening.  On average, all things considered, Oregon is a great place.

We were delayed in Portland a couple of days, waiting for parts to repair the truck.  Getting to see way more traffic than desired was not a high point, but staying with good friends more than made up for it.  Yesterday, we headed the tiny home southward and skipped down I-5 directly, to make up some of the lost time.  As we stopped in Roseburg (OR) for a deli lunch, we were informed of the shooting at the local community college only moments before.  We saw numerous sheriff and police units go by and the radio was filled with preliminary reports, not knowing exactly what had happened. 

We stopped last night near Medford (OR) in a lovely state park along the Rogue River.  The trees here were decorated with Oregon Duck colors.  This is the capital of Goat head stickers, where intruders are promptly skewered and sent away hopping onto more of the little devils.  I’m just glad we didn’t find them along with the White Flies back in Portland… not being to walk or breathe might be discouraging.  I think both of these were designed by the “Let’s keep Oregon for Oregonians” League or some similar institution; you know, the “They” everyone speaks of when conspiracy theories come up in conversation.

Oregon was great, overall; a couple of minor pests in a land full of beauty and wonder.  OK, California, show us your best this week…  I’ll pass on the worst.  

Portland (a stone's throw from the Pacific)

Mt Hood with Lost Lake

Sixteen days on the road, more than 1,900 miles… and yesterday we encountered our first major city along the way.  Portland is lovely (and, I’ll admit, a bit confusing).  Divided into pieces by rivers, it seemed like we were constantly either on a bridge or in a tunnel.  Probably just my perception; Diane and I had a sort of plan not to drive through cities except during times of little traffic; Los Angeles is exempt because times of little traffic don’t happen there.  Well, we entered the stream; which, like salmon here, all travel close and in one direction.  The morning commute is familiar to everyone with one person per car lining up to see how much gas the car needs to sit idling on the highway for an indeterminate time.  Every now and then a car would zoom and swerve by, I think the driver’s coffee (or bladder) had kicked in.  One advantage with pulling an RV at such a time is you have your fully functional bathroom nearby; with traffic at a standstill, simply get out, walk a few yards back, open the trailer and return.  With luck, you won’t even miss the scenery.

Multnomah Falls

We spent the past week along the beautiful Columbia River, reliving Lewis and Clark’s adventure and seeing some of the most wonderful mountains and waterfalls one can imagine.  We capped the week by visiting Mt St Helens in Washington before settling in Portland for the weekend.  Remember when St Helens erupted in 1980 with the mud flows, winds that mowed down huge forests like a front lawn hit by a Toro and the dust cloud that circled the earth?  Well, it’s much different now, having gotten over that tantrum.  We visited there in 2000 with our kids and wanted to see the continued changes; green woods have returned over much of the landscape and we were able to see literally hundreds of elk grazing in the open.  If you’re near southwestern Washington, don’t miss this place…

Mt St Helens from Johnston Ridge Observatory

The next few days will be with our great friends, Tom and Marty.  Our friendship goes back to San Diego and several decades.  We’ll be visiting Astoria and Cannon Beach along the Oregon coast together; thanks, Lord, for the “unseasonably” perfect weather right now.  We’re told the blue skies we’ve had are not the norm for Oregon in September.  That’s OK, we Minnesotans hear far too often, “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes… it’ll change”.  I know that cliché is repeated endlessly in every part of our country.  Me, I hope it rains a bit this afternoon.  I’ll do the “RV Shuffle”, get out the long handled brush and swim trunks to wash our “Whealhouse” and entertain the neighborhood. 

On the Lewis and Clark Trail

The past week we meandered from Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota through Montana and Idaho into Washington state.  Our intention was to visit Glacier National Park, but these two Minnesota “weenies” decided a forecast of snow and colder weather was not to our liking.  After spending two wonderful days at Fort Peck Dam (no, I’d never heard of it either) we headed south and west, linking up again with good old Highway 12 (that would be 395 for you twin city folks).  We’ve seen a moose, hundreds of bison, lots of deer and plenty of snakes in the road; those yellow and black warning signs about curvy roads.  You know you’re in for a thrill when a sign tells you “Winding Road next 99 miles”.  Not lying, it’s right there by the Visitor Center at the top of Lolo Pass on the Montana / Idaho border.  We stayed in a National Forest campground along a wonderful, bubbling stream in a rain (but NOT snow).  We met a trucker stuck at a rest stop with no cell service (and the rest area had no emergency phone).  His rig had blown a rear tire and torn up a bit of the frame of the trailer carrying a 40,000 pound girder for a road project.  I noticed his truck cab was from a company in St Cloud, MN; he said he’d never been there but was hoping to make it eventually, as a bridge being built somewhere in northern Minnesota needed this girder.  He refused a ride offer and said he’d wait until a Highway Patrol or someone else showed up.  Ed from Louisiana, I hope you packed winter clothes; you’ll need them by the time you get there…

While we’re driving, Diane and I are listening to an audio book entitled “Undaunted Courage”; it’s the story of the Lewis and Clark Expedition of 1805.  The route we’re taking (Highway 12) is nearly identical to their own, except we have paved roads, a heated trailer and 350 horses pulling it.  I’d recommend the book to anyone who thinks traveling is a struggle.  Once you get off the road here, it’s easier to visualize the trek they made through the Bitterroot Mountains; several of the men on the expedition called this the most scenic and worst terrain they’d ever known.  Steep hills soar above you, covered with thick pines a hundred feet tall.  Rushing streams, filled with boulders make the valleys no less hazardous.  Each time you get past one mountain, three more rise up in front.  This area is the densest forest we’ve ever experienced.  It’s a beautiful drive with the windows open, smelling the wonderful aroma of cedars; don’t think I’d ever enjoy it as much on foot, except, perhaps, for a half mile hike to a hot spring.  Roughing it these days, for us, is dropping a phone call or not having internet access to check Facebook.  Oh yeah, we’ve had one bigger problem… our shower handle drips whenever the water pump runs (but it’s under warranty and can wait until we reach Portland).  We live in an amazing country, blessed with beauty and timelessness.

Our stay in Idaho, along the Lolo River, brought one other exciting moment; twice during the night we had a bear try to get in the front of our trailer (though we thought it was raccoons at first).  Flashlights through the window and a few shouts, in my loudest and gruffest voice (as Diane says) and he was gone.  Now our tiny home “bears” a few claw marks.  We cannot believe how much beauty we’ve witnessed in the miles covered since we began.

On the Road...

Our inaugural day of travel brought us across the increasingly unfamiliar landscape of western Minnesota.  Roads were nearly devoid of traffic, the sun was shining, crops ripening in the fields; altogether a picture perfect drive to Big Stone Lake State Park on the border with South Dakota.  Along the way we passed many sites of historical importance to the early days of our state and the war we fought with the Dakota back in the 1860’s; Mankato, New Ulm, the Upper Sioux Agency were among them.  Did I mention I like history?  Our first evening out, Earl and Marsha from Michigan introduced themselves in the campground (there were three sites occupied out of 37 available… nice problem choosing the right one).  They had been drenched by rains the day before, in Wisconsin, and were drying out their tent as they set up camp.  Earl’s ancestors had lived in nearby Ortonville and they were hoping to find the former homestead the next day.  We spent a very few minutes speaking with them before they were gone and we resumed our first evening’s fire.  Next morning we were getting things put away in “The Wheal House” (the new name of our trailer… think Elmer Fudd saying “It’s a wheal house… uh, uh, uh, uh uhhhh), when it started to rain.  Diane noticed Earl and Marsha sitting in their small car at their campsite.  She mentioned it to me and preparations to leave ceased; the coffee pot was put on and I walked to their site under the umbrella to invite them in for coffee.  We felt it was God’s prompting to encourage them.  The next hour brought out the laptop as we investigated the area on Google maps; with the information Earl knew, we located their family homestead just a few miles away.  The rain stopped, the sun came out and they excitedly left us and the still warm coffee to drive out to see it.  We’ve said the people we meet will be better than the landscapes… it’s true.  Good luck and blessings to Earl and Marsha as they search their past together (did I mention I like history).

We’re in Theodore Roosevelt National Park this morning, after driving across the fields, rivers and buttes of South Dakota.  Yesterday I mentioned my desire to see a pronghorn antelope in the wild… a couple hours later we crested another in the numerous uphill parts of the drive and there, in the corner of a green grassy field, was a large pronghorn buck. I woohooed and exclaimed, “That’s it, I’m done, I can go home now… (pause) wait, I am home.”  Funniest moment of the day.  We’ve also seen prairie dogs by the colony, white tail and mule deer and several bison.  I took a series of photos of Diane and a large bull buffalo… the one in today’s blog is after I said to her, “Hold still and keep looking at the camera, he’s coming closer and looks pretty mad.”  She erased the best ones.  We’ll continue to share about people and places we meet; you continue to do what you do and stay connected.

End of the shakedown cruise

I was watching the silent progress of time go by, marked by the swirls and riffles on the surface of the slowly flowing river. Sitting on a weather beaten wooden bench overlooking the water I imagined, or tried to, the changes witnessed by the silent sentinels; large oaks, maples and cottonwoods that grew on the banks and stretched out over the water. Their upper branches seemed to want to meet their neighbors on the far bank. Every so often the water is disturbed by fish rising to snatch some morsel that’s floating by. A nice breeze tries to keep the late summer heat and humidity away; it’s not working very well. Diane and I are spending the weekend at a farm belonging to our granddaughter’s other side. Sandra and Ron are her father’s grandparents and live in east central Iowa; a beautiful flat land of corn, small towns and family. We've met several, spending time together picking grapes and raspberries, riding ATV’s around endless fields along the river, searching out old bridges, trestles and town sites that have grown and died over the past century and a half. Todd, the other grandfather, and I were joined on our four wheeling journey by a great horned owl; it flew alongside for hundreds of yards before perching in a tall hardwood, peering down, large eyes following us as we continued on. An hour later I was standing knee deep in the river, casting a line laden with a large gob of freshly dug worms. The water was cool, not the jarring cold of a mountain stream. Not ten feet away a woodchuck came down the bank, navigating through a jumble of large maple roots. He looked straight at me before getting into the water and swam by, three feet from my own motionless wonder. I think I’ve found a “top ten” happy place. The past few days have been filled with campfire food and fellowship, laughter at the antics of a nine month old and nights filled with the sound of crickets and cicadas. Tomorrow we travel a couple of hours north to join friends in southern Minnesota for a day before heading west on our first extended trip in the new tiny home. I’m sure we’ll have countless adventures ahead, but it’s not easy to leave the Midwest.

An end worth waiting for

I’ll admit it… I’m encouraged. Yesterday morning I made the mistake of watching the news; an event I rarely engage in. The litany of social dysfunction included too many shootings, cars running into crowds and even a local dentist’s $57,000 trophy hunting demise (how much did that last filling cost?)… I arranged to pick up my daughter and grand-daughter to accompany me to a wedding in the evening. On the way to her house, a guy drove by me doing at least 80+ mph while eating a bowl of cereal; natural selection in progress was my initial thought. I’ve actually seen this performed three times this summer and wonder how I missed the launch of a new extreme sport. The three of us took a stroll at a shopping mall to pass some time before the wedding and to give me relief from having to wear long pants in 85 degree weather (called air conditioning). We stopped at a coffee kiosk for a “cold press, no cream if it’s not organic” and my usual “medium coffee”… mistake. Apparently, when ordering coffee, the idea is to get your name written on a cup so they remember to fill it. “Medium coffee” doesn’t qualify… no name on cup, no coffee after 10 minutes or so. The look I got when I mentioned that I hadn’t gotten my beverage was matched by the flurry of activity checking the receipt to see if I’d even ordered, and paid for, such a commonplace item. I had. No apology from the barista; apparently it was my own fault for not requesting something that required my name be on a cup. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself; that I’d had to encounter so much of America’s perceived “normalcy” in one day. The wedding was great but I’ll admit the reception was my highpoint. Heidi, Phoebe and I sat at a table for eight; just the right size for diaper bag, feeding equipment for a baby and my cell phone. We were joined by five young people who were entertained by Phoebe’s smile and newly discovered art of waving. In order they were a graduate student, a design engineer, a special education teacher, a nurse and a production engineer. All were 25 years old. We had, or at least I had, a great time learning about the passion each of them has for what they do, or hope to do. It was the best therapy for me at the end of a day containing way too much of what most expect from our culture… By the way, congratulations Casey and Michael.

July 24 (One week into this thing)...

This first week since departing Owatonna has seen the two of us already experiencing the learning curve that is rv-ing… I’ve managed to install a dual 12 volt outlet with usb ports; naturally the first attempt resulted in a blown circuit breaker and a smoking outlet… it seems I neglected checking the voltage polarity. Lesson learned was that wiring in a travel trailer is anything but industry standard. Some help from a new digital voltmeter (and advice from more than one experienced friend) meant the second try was a success. Maybe the more important lesson is that I don’t know “everything”, even though I went to Postmaster school. Beyond that, a few other gadgets and gizmos now will serve to enhance our adventure. The Owatonna People’s Press newspaper profiled us in the weekend issue after our departure (click here) and several folks have already read the first installment of this blog and joined us on Facebook as a result. We’ve received so many notes and posts from people, some new to us and some well acquainted, that we want to thank you all. I’ve begun a file of people we’ve spoken with and their comments; too many to write about this week (and we’ve not gotten out of the state yet). Thank you, Kelly (a retail clerk at Cub Foods) for your positive attitude and commitment; working two jobs as a single mom of a couple of pre-teens. Your words of encouragement go far and I hope you sleep through the next big storm like you did the last one (although you missed a great lightning show)… People like her ought to be on the nightly news.

Embarkation Day

This morning I'm gaining a greater understanding of what it felt like to emigrate from the "old country". Tickets in hand, looking at the ship that will take you far away to that new land of promise. Perhaps a better comparison... having loaded all the necessary items in the covered wagon you feel almost ready to head out across the vast prairies to the west. Almost... Wednesday we finalized the sale of our home of 25 years; yesterday we drove out of town to begin a journey desired for a long time. Diane and I will be traveling many miles throughout the great land we live in, visiting places and meeting people. The people part is our true destination; getting to meet and talk to other folks is important. There are times when it feels like face to face is becoming a lost art; even reaching others by a blog carries far less real information than observing that first reaction to a question or comment. As we have told others of our hopes and desires, many have responded with "I'd love to do that, too. I just don't see it happening." Part of why we'll be writing as we rack up the miles is so you might catch a glimpse of it happening... and for the rest of us. There are also other reasons to meet and speak with others as well; an attempt to sort of capture the pulse of America and the people who call her home. A half century ago, John Steinbeck wrote a book I've enjoyed several times. "Travels with Charley" was his record of hitting the road, cross country, with his dog as a companion; in that I've got him beat. Not that I'd ever compete with Steinbeck; I'd lose before starting. Ever wonder if you're the only person who doesn't feel like our culture says you ought? When I mention to folks that I often disagree with "this or that" I'm hearing or reading about surveys done, advertising, news commentaries... I get more nods of agreement than shakes of the head. So I hope to communicate the feelings of those we meet... and for the rest of us. Closing out this first posting, Diane and I are enjoying our retirement years our way. Looking at that last sentence, it seems a bit selfish; it's not meant to be. We are doing this while we can; visiting friends, family and places... for the rest of us. Let us know what you might like to hear, or see along our way. Our hope is to write weekly at ANDfortherestofus.blogspot.com Links will be on my website, www.michaeleckers.com and you can always find us on Facebook. As Buzz Lightyear would say, "To infinity and beyond".