Veterans Day 2016

Yesterday I experienced Veteran’s Day in the heartland of America.  The exact location is not what matters; the sincerity of the thanks and the kindnesses shown blessed and humbled me.  I’d like to write a few lines about the day.

At the local school, a breakfast of pancakes, sausage and copious cups of coffee greeted us at the kickoff of an event that included all the kids. From Kindergarteners reciting the Pledge of Allegiance through to the Seniors hosting the program, every student had a part.  Each of the Veterans was asked to introduce ourselves; no mean feat considering the sixty or so of us present.  The last to speak was the most moving.  He addressed the students and said, “Here’s how to thank a Veteran.  Love our country… don’t include violence to protest the process that makes us a free nation.  To dishonor America makes our hearts ache as we are here being singled out for what we’ve done.  Respect the flag that is the symbol of our United States; each of us have seen it fly over land that was at war with us.  It has always indicated a place of safety and peace to us.  This is how you thank us.”

I’ve got to tell you that throughout the rest of the day, from free lunches, drinks, coffee… pats on the back, handshakes, hugs to the awesome Iowa State basketball game that I was treated to.. this Veteran’s words stuck with me, often bringing me to the verge of tears.

Thanks to all who thanked a Veteran yesterday; I’d encourage those who don’t agree to rethink your position.  Even you have the freedom to protest and disagree; it’s the very thing we have served to guard and protect.  You also have the right to visit other nations where our freedoms do not exist… provided they will let you in.  Then come home and see which is better.

Oh... Oh... Ohio

Every so often you run into a place you just enjoy… maybe you can’t really put into words exactly why, you just do.

This past week found Diane and me driving through a good part of east central Ohio.  We left Wooster after an incredibly enjoyable visit with Steve and Ginger, friends from our snowbird haunt in Naples, Florida.  Heading south for speaking engagements in Mount Vernon and, a day later, in Newark brought us through some of the most wonderfully colored hills and valleys.  We both thank the good people of Ohio for decorating their land for our enjoyment.  We’ve not seen fall colors like these since our drive from New Hampshire back to Minnesota several years ago.

It was when we drove into Newark that we realized we’d stumbled onto something special.  Our first stop was at the Earthworks Museum, the site of a prehistoric lunar observatory that is awesome… the only thing “prehistoric” about it is that Europeans were not around when it was built!  The perfectly laid out circles and geometric shapes are aligned with the 18.2 year cycle of the moon.  Walking around made me wonder just what else we “western thinkers” have bulldozed our way over in a mad rush to colonize and “civilize” this continent.  Enough of that…. this is about travel, not ripping into our own past behavior.

The city of Newark is under renovation… literally.  The main streets around the square are torn up, several buildings are being worked on and a recently completed, beautiful pavilion and farmer’s market area enhance the feeling of having stepped back a century in time.  A canal used to cut through town, bringing commerce (in the form of whiskey and hard cider) that earned the city the title “Sin City”… now it’s cleaned and shining and very, very pretty.  Murals cover multitudes of walls and a form of sitting bench artwork appears on several corners.  Pictures don’t do justice, though I’ve included a few to try.  A new Library is there, along with work on a Louis Sullivan “Jewel Box” bank building that will be completed in two years (did I mention these are part of our quest this fall).

You have got to include Newark into any trip you make here.  It’s bound to get even better by the time you arrive.  Newark also marks the point at which we turn to head west and north for our return to see our little peanut, Phoebe, in a week.  The hardest part, right now, of travel is to try and imagine how much she’s grown in our absence (though it’s not like she’s graduating from college next Thursday).

Yesterday we visited the US Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson in Dayton.  Naturally, the sight of so many, unbelievably many, aircraft from our history has left me dry eyed and drool-less.  I must have seemed like a little kid, hurrying from one to another… just to stare, mesmerized by the stories that were flowing through my mind at each one.  I’m probably the only person you know that can get downright giddy at the aquamarine and yellow coloring of a P-36 “Peashooter”…. no, I didn’t include a picture of that one… Google it for yourself!

 

 Diane and I really enjoyed the newest part of the museum as we toured the first four aircraft used by Presidents from Franklin Roosevelt to Clinton.  We stood on the spot where Lyndon Johnson was sworn in after Kennedy’s assassination in Dallas.  You can feel the history!

One picture I did include is of a B-29 Superfortress named “Bockscar”.  It was the plane that dropped the second atomic bomb, on Nagasaki.  My first thought was of the Minnesota Vikings, who have never won a Super Bowl (our chant for them is “We’re number two… we’re number two).  A couple of weeks ago I happened to visit the gravesite of Frederick Bock in Greenville, Michigan while speaking at the Flying Falcon Museum.  Fred Bock was the pilot, and namesake, of the plane… though on the Nagasaki mission he traded places with another pilot, Major Sweeney.  Sweeney dropped the bomb and Bock observed while flying “The Great Artiste”.  It’s amazing how history weaves a tapestry of time and events that connect in strange ways when you look hard…

Marvelous Michigan

What can I say about Michigan… sand dunes, apple orchards, small lakes dotting the landscape, streams and rivers at every bend of the road.  This place is marvelous!  The people we met, and stayed with, are equal to their land.  We could never express our thanks enough to those who hosted us during our journey through The Great Lakes State. 

Our first stop was at Warren Dunes State Park, on the southeast corner of Lake Michigan.  What a difference between here and Door County in Wisconsin.  Instead of sandstone and granite cliffs, we were surrounded by soft sand beaches and dunes, stretching up (and I mean UP) and back for a mile or more.  Our hike to the beach across the dunes felt like a trek through the Sahara, though it was a comfortable temp the day we did it. 

We were then on our way north, past signs telling us town names like Kalamazoo… which made me burst forth in song… a bad rendition of  Glenn Miller’s “I’ve got a gal…”  Fortunately, Diane came to the rescue with a quick push of a button on the dash to let Sirius channel 66, smooth jazz, fill the cab.  We drove through Grand Rapids and on to the Greenville area, where we stayed with fellow snowbirds and gave two talks; one on the Waco gliders built by the Gibson Refrigerator Company during The War.  A week there and on down through the center of the state to the town of Dexter, just outside Ann Arbor…. you’d be smart to know about the expression “Go Blue” while in this part of the state!  We got to see some of the college, including their enormous football stadium, from another couple we spend winters with in Naples.  These are what my generation refers to as friends with benefits!

Diane and I had the opportunity to take a day to tour some of her childhood stomping grounds without the trailer following so close behind.  We visited the areas around Clawson and Drayton Plains, searching out homes she had lived in before moving to San Diego.  It was fun to see her face light up in recognition of them as we drove up.  Another day was spent visiting the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA) with our friends.  The talent of people working in various mediums absolutely astounds me.  I need help drawing parts for a game of Hangman!!

We spent a total of two weeks in Michigan before we headed into The Buckeye State of Ohio.  Michigan has too much to offer for only a two week stay… hope there’s a next time!

Wonderful Wisconsin

We’ve spent the past two weeks in Wisconsin.  From dry, warm breezes through beautiful vistas of wind driven waves crashing on  limestone bluffs to more than nine inches of rain in two days… we’ve had a good taste of The Badger State.  We began in Chippewa Falls, only an hour from the Twin Cities.  It was a nice third visit and talk at the Public Library there.  A walk down to the river, seeing the high water surging through the dam was a nice way to relax after the drive.  The next morning we headed a bit south and east to Augusta, in the heart of Amish country.  We stayed at Coon Fork County Park, a beautiful campground on a lake.  No luck fishing, but a nice area to walk around (mind the mosquitoes).

A couple days and we were heading further east to a campground in Fremont… Jellystone Park, complete with Yogi and Ranger Smith.  Even Fred and Wilma Flintstone were there, though we missed seeing them.  Took a moment to check out their car, though.  I spoke four times in the three days we were in Fremont; first was New London, twice in Waupaca and finally in Appleton.  I’ve learned much more about the Home Front in Wisconsin during WW2 than I could possible share… people who remember picking milkweed pods, a lady whose father worked at the Four Wheel Drive company (they now make fire engines) spoke of hearing the trucks running on the test track all night right behind her house.  Another lady told of losing her underwear in a store because rationing had eliminated elastic waistbands… her tie came undone!

I’m glad we had the foresight to schedule a break to visit Door County with no talks.  We’ve heard so much about it and experiencing it was even better.  The magnificent views of Green Bay (not the Packers, mind you) coupled with quaint shops, wineries, produce stops, coffee shops, fish boil dinners, the awesome Harvest moon, sunrises and sunsets and a wonderful bike ride through Peninsula State Park were amazing.  The four days went by way too fast and the time came to head south again into the central part of the state.

Our current lodging is at the Sky High Campground outside Portage.  Glad to be on high ground with all the torrential rains the past few days.  We visited Baraboo and the Circus World Museum along with a sister and brother in law who met us, the day the rain began.  Now we hear the river there will crest nearly six feet above flood stage in a few days!  We’ll be heading further south, around the Windy City of Chicago and on to the eastern shore of Lake Michigan shortly.  One more talk this Saturday in Wyocena and then the drive to Stevensville, Michigan.  We’ll be staying in the sand dunes along the southeast corner of the lake before heading up near Grand Rapids for a few days…. but that will be in the next edition.

After nearly a year and a half… we’ve decided we like this “tiny home” living thing and hope you do, too (at least the part we share).  Until we see you “down the road”, keep in touch.  We’ll try to post a bit more often on Facebook and will write these longer notes when there’s time.

Muddy Waters

It’s time to dust off the “blog files” and begin a new series of them… particularly since Diane and I are, again, on the road (not to be confused with On the Road Again; sorry Willie).  Our definition of “on the road” does not include time spent within easy driving distance of our little imp… Phoebe.  Having spent a majority of time since returning to the Midwest from Florida in May near her, we’re now at Coon Lake County Park, outside the thriving megalopolis of Augusta, Wisconsin.  I’d tell you about the wonderful, large Veteran’s Park in Augusta (right next to, strangely enough, the local bakery)… but that would be getting ahead of the story.

First to relate is our leaving the Land of 10,001 Lakes.  It has rained so much this summer, I’m sure there is at least one more… so I’ll not try too hard to count, but just chalk up the one additional.  It was raining when we left (surprise) and the best description of our departure from good friends’ house (thanks Barb and Dave) is a piece of advice.  Never try to pull or push a camper when you can’t stand up in the mud.  Had it not been for Dave’s tractor (he’s really such a Deere), we’d still be at their place, downhill from the horse barn instead of comfortably up the hill, alongside the road.

We’re in Wisconsin because, unlike last year’s pleasure drive of 15 states in eight weeks (far too long and fast, but we certainly learned how to set up and take down the trailer), this year is a more measured five states in the same time period.  I’ll be speaking 20 times in Wisconsin, Michigan and Ohio before heading back through Indiana and Illinois; enjoying some scenery, visiting Florida friends and seeing fun things (like the oldest concrete street in the US).  It is a grand experiment to see if I can actually travel, talk and sell books at the same time.  I know you know the talking is not the hard part… ‘nough said.  We‘ll be blogging from Door County, the Lake Michigan Sand Dunes, and Cuyahoga National Park (look that one up) along with many other interesting points.

Right now Diane is looking through countless information magazines we picked up at the Wisconsin rest area yesterday.  At this point I’m going to guess those slimmer jeans I bought are going to stay in the closet for a while.  What with cheese factories and Farmers Markets on almost every street corner here… oh well, when in Rome…

Another 'season' in Florida...

We are on our way, slowly, back north as May warms up and the rains approach SW Florida.  Our months in Naples were both fun and productive; meeting new friends, a bit of fishing, entertaining, days at the beach, working hard on a new novel… did I mention a bit of fishing?  In Minnesota there are somewhat over a dozen or so game fish that people pursue for eating… in the Gulf there are eleven varieties of Snapper alone.  More than 140 different fish tempt a Midwestern fisherman nearly to the breaking point.  Diane mentioned eating ten new varieties of fish this season… and they’re healthy, too. 

Enough about fishing (not that I’m completely consumed by the topic)… The past few weeks have been a combination of saying goodbye to other snowbirds, packing for our own migration and enjoying the warm Gulf waters… think biggest bath tub EVER.  Enjoying sunsets that are never duplicates and watching Black Skimmers flying an inch above the waves looking for dinner make for a delightful evening.  As is said, “All good things must come to an end”… why is that?  I prefer to go from one good thing to another, and the greatest is endless.

Our plans are to stay in Iowa and Minnesota most of the summer; I have editing and more writing to do on Five For Freedom, which I hope will release in November.   We look forward to spending time with family and more friends, reacquainting ourselves with Minnesota’s beauty and taking a trip in the fall.  Putting together a book signing and speaking jaunt through Wisconsin, Michigan and Ohio will mean more adventures along the lines of last fall (I wonder if there are bears in Ohio).

I’ll be blogging more regularly as we hit the road again.  Looking forward to seeing all of you that we can…   

Home

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.