Wednesday, May 24, 2006

ONCE AGAIN

I can’t seem to remember where we were.  It has been so long ago and yet just yesterday.   We were in Nova Scotia with all our friends, Stephen, Yvonne, Paul, Phyllis, Jean and his bride, Al and his accompaniment and the host of others.  It was yesterday and it was months and yet years ago.  Al has gone to live with his Father and we all miss him.  We still sing.  June still sings, Stephen still sells cars, Joan still keeps the mink diets straight, Paul and Jean still build for today and future generations and Dan keeps the lights on...  Life goes on where we left it in that wonderful place we call the Acadian Shore and we are on the road again.

Today we left behind our newly expanded home on Lake Road as well as all our friends in those environs.  Already we miss them all and pray especially for Haskell and Elaine, Dave and Anne as well as all our other friends and our Nova Scotia pals.

It has been days, perhaps weeks, that we have been preparing for today.  Last minute farewells, hugs, kisses, embraces and adios to our kith and kin have been completed.  Security lights have been installed, vertical blinds hung, grass cut, flower beds fed and edged, yet again, future mowing and edging spoken for, mail forwarded, PO box secured in Alaska, paper stopped, arrangements made to forward prescription information, furniture covered against impending dust anticipated from four or five months, refrigerator cleaned out, some plants transplanted and some moved to caring neighbors and that is just the short list. We also made last minute visits to doctors and even managed to have a root canal reamed, honed, filed, filled, capped and whatever else the witch doctors who label themselves dentists do to fabricate a days work.

We have also cleaned out everything left over from our last motor home jaunt, vacuumed the carpet, taken out clothes from the last trip, drained the fresh water tank, removed the bugs from the outside and cleaned it in general including dressing the tires and waxing part of the coach body.  The batteries have been serviced, the basement cleared, repair supplies inventoried and replenished, tires inflated to the proper pressure and a vent cap or two replaced.  Fishing gear, laundry supplies, camping chairs, walking sticks, water proof boots and lots of other good stuff was stored in the basement.  A new water supply, one hundred gallons was placed in the holding tank, clothes for a summer were collected and placed in drawers and hung in the closets.  The freezer was filled with our sausage, some smoked boneless chicken and butter.  Items were transferred to the coach refrig from the house.  Medications and supplements were placed on board along with personal hygiene items and the list goes on as did the work for three or more days until at last we agreed that if it wasn’t on board it wasn’t going.

At last, convinced that anything that was missing could be done without or purchased, we drove out our gate and locked the chain at two in the afternoon. We were on our way again, almost.  Two more stops at pharmacies to pickup last minute meds our docs thought necessary delayed us but at three we finally pulled onto the super slab called IH45 North and headed for cooler country.

As the Cummins purred its gentle song the miles slipped away falling behind us as we headed north.  We rode in silence watching as the tall east Texas piney woods gave way to the mixed woods of central Texas where the road was lined with Black-eyed Susan’s, Indian Paint Brush and other wild flowers.  The cares and stress of the last few days began to melt away as the odometer rolled up the increasing distance.

We neared Dallas at evening rush hour and decided it would be good to stop for a game of dominoes to let the traffic subside.  Short story is Onie won.  Dallas fell behind us and we arrived at our evening destination just north of Denton, two hundred forty miles from the house, Destiny RV Park.

The cares of the past few days and weeks had faded from view with the sands of home and we settled in to a restful evening at our first day on the road.

Our minds were at ease but still busy as we fell to sleep wondering what the next few days, weeks and months held in store.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

INDIAN TERRITORY AND MORE

One might think today would be “North to Alaska” since that is our destination this year but that doesn’t seem quite right just yet.  There is a lot of concrete and perhaps some gravel to cover before we say hello to Tok once again.

Breakfast was nothing fancy, that comes later, but it was filling and by nine we were watching Destiny drop over the hill in our rear view mirrors.  Outside the coach the sun in the clear blue sky cooked the landscape and those toiling in it.  Inside, the dash air kept us comfortable.  The oil wells and cattle of Texas gave way to low scrub trees once we crossed the Red River and entered Indian Territory, Oklahoma. 

This is the last place the American Indian could call home and still roam free or relatively so as long as he stayed inside the borders but we all know how the story ended.  We needed more land and there were more of us than there were of them so we got the land and the Indians got the last shaft left in their quiver.  A few years later they used that shaft to poke holes in the ground and get some oil out and some folks think we are now getting that shaft.  Strange how that happened isn’t it.  Sometimes we give what we think is worthless, in this case poor land for reservations, and the recipient makes something worthwhile from it.  Then we think we got a raw deal.

Well we were riding on a very nice road funded by Indian money as we climbed into the Arbuckle Mountains.  The gnarled trees and rocks covering the slopes reminded me of those childhood years we had lived near the mountains west of here.  As little boys, seven and ten, my brother David and I worked our way up similar grades picking wild plums, watching for the ever present rattle snakes, so our Mom could make some preserves.  I can still see them in the Mason jars and feel the texture of the skin on my tongue as well as the sweet but slightly tart taste.  Could it be it has really been sixty years ago?  The mountains haven’t changed but the mirror tells me I can’t say the same.

North of the Arbuckles rolling wheat fields covered miles and miles.  This wasn’t the tall wheat of my youth that reached to my chest when I walked through it.  This was short stuff, perhaps a new strain that would have only reached to my knees or perhaps my hips had I had the opportunity to wade in it.

We passed creeks, streams and rivers where red men once hunted, watered and bathed, remnants of woods where they may have hunted and sheltered areas where they no doubt made their homes.  We neared Oklahoma City where many now live, civilized, integrated into our society, productive members who have a proud past.  They are like most of us.  The Blomstroms came from Viking stock that pillaged and plundered for hundreds of years all over Europe and into the Slavic countries, Russia and even as far as China but we left those ways behind.  It might be nice to take Paris one more time and hold it for ransom, though.  Italians, Greeks, Egyptians, Persians, Celts and other peoples ruled great lands at one time but dissipation and other cultures took their toll and those cultures are gone, not forgotten but gone.  We don’t grieve over those times past nor do we try to bring them back nor should others whose ways have changed.  We all live in America where we have one culture, American.  Those who don’t like it should leave.  They won’t find a friendlier or freer place but perhaps they need to live elsewhere until they make that discovery for themselves.

Oklahoma City, what a bustling modern town.  Things seemed clean and well tended and even if I don’t think skylines filled with high rises and office buildings are a beautiful sight Onie does and she always enjoys seeing them.  I am more lucky than she because I like the countryside and there is so much more of it.  Onie loves living in the country but she sure does love most big cities.  She enjoyed Oklahoma City from south to north as we motored through with the Subaru in tow.

North of The City, that’s what the natives call Oklahoma City you know, the land became more flat and we knew we were getting close to Kansas.

While motorcycling in western Kansas a long time ago I was treated to the largest amalgamation of pig feed lots I ever hope to see or subject my olfactory senses to.  How glad we were to see that the people of south eastern Kansas opted to trade trees for pigs.  The flat lands, with a few gentle hills, were dotted with farms and woods that baked in the unblinking sun.  It was hot.

About halfway through Kansas we came to Salina, four hundred twenty miles from Destiny and home to a KOA Kampground.  Like most KOAs it was almost in the middle of the freeway but it did have water, sewer and electric hookups so we could be comfortable among its trees.  Driving in, supper presented itself, two plump rabbits, but having neither the means nor desire to put them on the table we were content to watch them make their meal. 

The park was an older one and apparently more suited to trailers than coaches since the hookups were in the wrong place and we only had 30 amp service available on our dirt site.  That meant we could only run one air conditioner to fend off the ninety five degree weather, almost a record high.

After supper we played more dominoes.  My luck hadn’t changed, Onie won.

Lying in bed trying to sleep we listened to the semis rumble by on the interstate.  Eventually exhaustion won out over hearing and we slept.

Friday, May 26, 2006

WAL-MART HERE WE COME

In the early hours thunder began to compete with trucks in the noise making department.

When we woke the rolling thunder was almost constant and it was obvious to most observers that rain was imminent.  All I could think of was the dirt site we were sitting on.  We decided we needed to make haste and depart at once leaving our rabbits to their own devices.  Pulling on my clothes as quickly as my years permit I hustled out side where big cooling rain drops were already falling.  Talk about mixed emotions, the heat was gone but if we didn’t move quickly and the rain continued we could be stuck.  We moved quickly, Onie inside and me outside.  In less than ten minutes we were rolling.  The rain came on and the temperatures cooled.  In a few minutes we were on a concrete road where we stopped, breathed a sign of relief, set the emergency flashers and prepared tea, coffee and breakfast.

Fortified against the rigors of the day we set out again, in a drizzle that would follow us for a long time.  I wouldn’t say this part of Kansas is really flat because it does have some hills. It just seems that the highway designers made the roads go over most of them, so you can see the flatlands further, and they also fixed it so that little ponds are next to most of the hills, how ingenious.

As early morning turned to mid morning the overpasses were joined by some real hills, gentle ones, rolling off to the horizon like so much baby fat on an infant’s tummy.  Farms with crop land and leas speckled the hills and painted the landscape.  It was an altogether restful scene.

The road rivaled any in Texas for its straight direct route north and the Cummins and Allison pushed smoothly along toward our evening stop, the Wal-Mart Super Center in Mitchell, South Dakota.

We arrived early enough to get a good spot next to an outside curb, set things to order in the coach and went inside to pay our respects.  Our respects came to two hundred thirteen dollars and change.  We took our loot, fresh lettuce, candy, brown flour, some DVDs, motor home supplies, a new hair cutting kit; we forgot the other one, cheeses and some other things.  We had a real assortment to store in the coach.

Just after we got back to the coach we gained a neighbor, a fellow from Missouri, in a Dolphin, traveling with two adult children and their children.  I helped him back in, in front of us.  He stopped about two feet from our windshield but promised to be gone early in the A.M.

Onie got our supper together while I locked up all the basement doors and did a check on the towing gear.

After supper the dominoes were shuffled and lo and behold I finally won a game.

Our spot was quieter than the night before and we were soon asleep.

Saturday May 27, 2006

RUSH-NO-MORE

Our windshield neighbor was good to his word and cranked and left while we were eating breakfast, about seven thirty. 

A slow morning saw us underway around nine thirty headed west on Interstate 90.

It wasn’t too far out of town that I spotted some American Bison, more commonly known as buffalo.  Soon Onie pointed out a flock of geese winging their way north and just down the road I saw some of their kinfolk raising a bunch of goslings next to a reed lined pond.  The further west we went the less flat the land lay and in the little vales and gullies water stood.  In many of these places mallards, pintails or other ducks were raising families.

An American icon of naval history was named for the state of Missouri and the river.  We crossed the river headed west and it is truly “The Mighty Mo”.  It is easy to see why it played such an important role in the westward migration that fulfilled America’s manifest destiny.

The Missouri River is the demarcation line for flat land.  The western banks give rise to true hills and the further west one goes the larger they get.  Rain must fall more readily on the western side also as the lush green grass and vegetation is in sharp contrast to the less robust type found east of the river.  The additional rain must also contribute to a deterioration of road surface because once we were west of the river it seemed we couldn’t go more than twenty miles without finding ourselves in a construction zone.  It could have been aggravating but we chose to adjust, enjoy the scenery at slower speeds and let others fret.

Onie has been taking a daily turn at the wheel and today was no exception.  She settled in like a pro and took us west while I enjoyed a rest and jotted some notes for further use in recording our adventures.  The Gaithers and bright sunshine kept us company as we got closer to our next stop.  Even though a few dark clouds begin to gather in the early afternoon they could do nothing to cast a shadow on our good spirits. They did however lend a rather forlorn look to the old abandoned graying houses that dotted some of the pastures.    

Onie brought me back from daydreaming about those early folk who had peopled those aging neglected empty houses.  We had crossed into the Mountain Time zone and picked up an hour.  We were also approaching Rapid City and it was time to change drivers.  Onie doesn’t like driving in cities but who does?

Out of the rest area where Onie had stopped I headed us on west and through Rapid City.  Now we were just a matter of minutes away from the campground where we had reservations.

At exit 37 we left the freeway and turned south for a little less than a mile.  There nestled on a hillside and dotted with trees was our campground, Rush-No-More.

We checked in, paid our rent for the next three days then parked and set up.  That entails leveling the coach, putting out the slides, hooking up water, sewer and electric all the while visiting with the new neighbors.  Campers are a friendly lot and to the east of us we had Don & Carol in a fifth wheel.  They have been retired a year and have a home in Missouri.  To the west were Nick and Stella.  They are in a class A diesel pusher, their eleventh camper.  Both retired from Burlington Northern railroad several years ago.  They currently live in Minnesota and are on their way to Alaska, for the first time.

It had been one thirty when we checked in.  After setting up we took a rest, showered and set out to explore our new surroundings.  We went looking for animals in the byways and lanes. 

We wound up in Deadwood where Wild Bill Hickock met his maker.  Annie Oakley and other famous gunslingers of the old west including Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday also called Deadwood home at one time or another.  Dinner was taken on Main Street and we visited some of the emporiums before heading home.

We arrived shortly after midnight and Onie promptly dressed for and went to bed.  Not yet ready to call it a day I stayed up and worked on this journal until about two when weariness caught up with me and I joined Onie. 

Sunday May 28, 2006

DID I SAY RAIN?

We rose together to cool, sixty degree, weather and began our day.

While Onie prepared a breakfast of biscuits, an egg creation containing eggs, onions, bacon and zucchini squash ,tea and coffee I sat and typed.

The breakfast was wonderful and then it was time to shower, dress, pack our lunch for the day, review our itinerary and be gone.

After getting back on Interstate 90 we drove west into Wyoming and made our first stop at a rather large hole in the ground.  Actually it is a sink hole and at one time had a very unusual use.  Today it is known as Vore Buffalo Leap.

Before the Spaniards brought horses to North America the plains Indians hunted on foot, their largest domestic animal being a dog.  The bison was a major component of their life style but as one can imagine it would difficult to approach a 2,000 pound quick responding unpredictable animal, on foot, and hope to administer a death blow without becoming subject to the same. For this reason they came up with the idea of a buffalo leap.  In the leap scenario the buffalo jumped to their own destruction.  The way this worked was as follows.  First a large precipice was located in such a place that the buffalo could be gently herded there using the natural terrain as a barrier to their escape.  Second some brave soul would don the hide of a buffalo calf and act and sound like a calf in distress keeping ahead of the slow moving herd.  Other braves would work the flanks of the herd gently urging it onward.  When the lead buffalo were very near the precipice those in the rear were frightened into stampede propelling the leaders over the cliff to their death or severe injury.  At this point the Indians approached the wounded animals and using bow and arrow, stone hatchets or clubs dispatched those not yet dead.  Then, as every hunter knows, the real work, of cleaning processing, etc. began.

The Vore Buffalo Leap is now a developing archeological site.  At the bottom of this pit lie the remains of countless buffalo, a testament to the effectiveness of this method.  Scattered amongst the twenty foot layer of bones are the remains of weapons used in the slaughter and the ensuing butchery.  One need only let the mind wander to envision the scene of dying animals, happy bloody braves and the squaws and children who knew that times of plentiful food, clothing and shelter was once again assured.  With these vivid mind pictures dancing, like so many blood thirsty wolves, in our head we headed on west.

Sundance, Wyoming was a turning point for us.  We turned south.  By the way, Sundance has a museum dedicated to the Sundance Kid.  No, we didn’t go there.

This was one of many scenic routes we were to frequent today and in the days ahead.  The large rolling hills with drainages between accommodated smallish trees and a variety of grasses.  In many places no habitation, fencing or utility lines were visible for miles.  One could almost envision the buffalo moving toward Mr. Vore’s nice little hole.  Moving along our chosen highway we saw many white tail deer, larger than those in Texas. 

Our plans today include a visit to Jewel Cave.  It is touted as being the second longest in the country and third longest in the world with over 1325 miles already mapped and exploring continues.  We plan to walk the whole thing, time permitting.

Alas our walking plans were dashed.  When we arrived we discovered that all the tours were sold out for the day and we should drop in next time we are in the neighborhood. 

We assured the helpful man we would be sure to do that.

Being he the true spelunkers that we are we refused to be denied our day in a cave so we motored on to Wind Cave.  On our way there we saw more deer, hundreds of antelope and a prairie dog town.  One of the little fellows sat for his picture right near the car.  When I had the camera focused and ready to shoot our battery bunny refused to keep going and expired on the spot, so no picture of the fame seeking prairie dog will appear at this time.

Onie was able to get us on the 3:30 tour so we had ten minutes to inhale the picnic lunch she had prepared.  We got half of it down and decided to save the other half for when we got out of the 53 degree cave.

Wind Cave is an unusual formation and derives its name from the air current rushing in and out of its natural opening.  Entrance to the cave is through a man made opening and leads one into a labyrinth of twisting turning tunnels many of which have to be navigated, by those over five two, in a stooped position.  Oft times it is necessary to turn sideways to slip through narrow passages.  The cave is basically dry and lacks the formations one encounters in wet caves.  There one outstanding formation that is present almost everywhere in the cave.  That is box work.

 The cave contains ninety percent of all such known formations in the world.  Box work looks like lattice work of spider webs made of stone.  The theory is that the box work formation was part of a sedimentary deposit.  When the softer parts of the deposits were washed away it left the box work exposed.  There are also small whitish deposits on the wall and ceiling which the guide called popcorn or snow.  It looked more like cotton balls to me but then I am from the south and she was from the north.  In defense of my position, I have seen snow and popcorn.

An hour and fifteen minutes of box work is a lot of box work.  Back in the daylight we finished our lunch in the warmth of the Subaru. 

The munching of the balance of our lunch was accompanied by the roll of thunder and very soon the splash of large raindrops.  I noticed our thermometer indicated 62 degrees.

We were off again in search of more animals.  We never tire of seeing animals in their natural setting.  Most of the time we are watching with the naked eye, through binoculars or a camera lens but on occasion we watch through a telescope.  We left the telescope home this trip.  As our trip continued on the scenic animal filled drive the rain intensified and was soon joined by sleet and then hail.  I bet it was 90 degrees at home in Coldspring and here we were in winter conditions.  In the next two hours the temperature dropped to 46.

Snug and dry in the Forester we enjoyed the sight of a bull Bison, two thousand pounds, two feet from Onie’s side of the car.  Had she cared to she could have let down the window and reached out and touched him.  She didn’t care to.

The rain and cold seemed to have a stimulating effect on the appetite of the white tail for as the rain intensified so did the numbers of deer seen grazing in and close to the timber.  Heavy cloud cover and the ceaseless downpour brought an early nightfall and as the last rays of daylight faded we could still catch glimpses of the deer, ignoring the rain and cold and eating away. 

We were near Deadwood and its brick paved Main Street so we stopped in for the prime rib buffet.  Fed, warm and dry we lingered awhile before heading home in the torrents that were still falling.

At the coach water was running everywhere.  We bravely splashed the fifteen feet to the front door and stood while I fumbled for the key.  Inside the sound of the rain drummed steadily on the roof.  We tumbled into bed and our dreams to that wonderful sound.  It was around eleven...

Monday May 29, 2006

A CARVING WORTHY OF THE SUBJECTS

God delivered another beautiful sunshiny day with sixty degree temps at nine o’clock.

We enjoyed our coffee and tea while watching a little Jeff Foxworthy then it was time for breakfast and to head off to Mt Rushmore from Rush-No-More.  We got away at eleven.

We prefer the scenic routes and today we took another going back to Rapid City and then heading south before going back west to the Needles.  The road through the Needles is one of switch backs and sharp curves.  We kept looking for animals but saw very few and those were far off the road.  We attributed this to the heavy traffic, folks getting in one last drive before going back to work.  Lest we forget, this is our work.  The Needles road has several tunnels (?)along it but I question if these man made portholes really are worthy of the appellation tunnel.  All are hewn out of solid rock and all but one is about a car length long.  All of this is on the Iron Mountain road which is very scenic, twisting and turning at every opportunity and some time with no opportunity at all.

At the last of the Needles we stopped to take some pictures.

This tunnel was appropriately named although it could have been called a tunnelette and it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings.

On the far side of this hole in the rock, just as we were coming out, we got a glimpse of Mt Rushmore framed in the stone walls.

Twisting along the mountain road we spied the chisled faces of the four presidents several times before arriving at the monument itself.

There we paid our parking, run by a private concern, and entered the park, no cost.  The avenue of flags was impressive and it was fun trying to identify the various state flags.  The lone star of Texas stood out above the rest, as it should.

With Onie in the foreground we got a good picture of this marvelous work and tribute to four great men before the blustery wind drove back to the car.

Now we were off on our quest to see more animals but stopped one last time for Onie to get a profile shot of our first president, carved in stone.

Still in awe of the mammoth work we had seen we set off to look for more wildlife.  We never tire of watching wild animals where they live.

Buffalo, or as we have been corrected American Bison were the first animals we saw.  These massive beast seem imperturbable but are in fact given to sudden unannounced charges which can result in serious injury or death, to the unwary.  We admired these guys from a distance but were able to get good pictures with the zoom lens.

The bounding gait of the mule deer gave them away as we watched them scatter from the approaching car.  When they stopped and looked back the enormous ears were another dead give away.

The whitetail deer seemed a bit more accustomed to vehicles and usually only gave us a passing glance unless they were right on the road and even then they often didn’t run but merely walked away.

Years ago donkeys were used as pack animals by miners and the army.  When they were replaced by mechanized haulers and toters the donkeys were turned loose to fend for themselves. Today herds of wild donkeys live in the park.  Some have learned to readapt to humanity.   These loll by a cattle guard and wait for tourists to stop and give them a hand out and lots of tourists do.  We stopped just as a donkey was sticking its inquisitive nose into the window of a car, begging for food.

Onie got out with some of our peanuts and immediately made some new friends.  One of them looked like a guy she dated in high school, I think.

Prairie dogs were the bane of ranchers in the old west digging holes in the pastures.  Horses and cattle being unfortunate enough to step in the holes often broke a leg and ended up being shot by the owners.  In this park setting there are no horses or cattle and the dogs live undisturbed except for their natural enemies, hawks and eagles.

Elk used to be prairie animals also but the settlement of these lands drove the elk into the foothills and mountains, seeking a place not frequented by man.  That is still the environment they prefer and today we saw three far off across the foothills, grazing peacefully under one of the few trees that dotted the hills.

Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be the American bird but he lost out on that one.  Although greatly diminished at one time wild turkeys have made a marvelous comeback in repopulating their original ranges.  Today we saw a gobbler defending a nest, although we couldn’t see the nest of the hen.  At first we thought the gobbler was courting a hen but soon it became obvious that he was fighting an enemy, a small hawk. He had the hawk down in some tall grass and was puffing himself up and gobbling quite loudly all the while pecking away at the hawk.

Finally the cornered hawk was able to get enough room to spread his wings and fly from the angry turkey.  The turkey seemed content to have the hawk gone, dropped his aggressive pose and sunk back into the grass.  We continued our journey.

Pronghorn antelope seemed to be at every turn and we stopped many times just to watch these beautiful graceful animals, graze.

Somewhere along the way we managed to stop for a picnic lunch.

It was almost dark when we got home at nine thirty.  We had been two hundred miles and had experienced a lot of through put.  We were ready for supper and a little time to digest everything we had seen.

We pulled the covers up high, a low of forty two was predicted for the morning, as Onie climbed into bed at ten thirty.  I typed and hour before joining her.

Tuesday May 30, 2006

RUB A DUB DUB

Onie was up half an hour before me.  When I joined her at eight thirty it was sunny and sixty one degrees.

After breakfast Onie cleaned up while I put down a few notes.

By eleven rain had started to fall and had chased the thermometer down to fifty five.  We turned back the covers for a nap.

Back up we began a few cleaning chores in the coach, dismantling and cleaning the overhead vents and then cleaning the air conditioning vents.

With these chores completed I set off to do the accumulated wash.  Onie set about cleaning the house further.

On my return from the washateria I was rewarded with fresh blueberry cobbler.

After the cobbler I sat back down with the laptop to name pictures and continue work on the events of the days.

After supper and more cobbler we drove over to Deadwood.  We didn’t stay long as we were tired and anxious to get to bed.  Tomorrow was another day.