Out of the Mountains

ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE. Or did the sign say “Welcome to Spokane”? It didn’t matter. After a month of avoiding cities of any kind I suddenly found myself in a 31’ motor home trying to maneuver the city streets of Spokane in cold rain and late afternoon traffic. Suddenly there was the ugliness that makes cities such places of hell for me. Every corner had gangs of people just hanging about looking either predatory or hopeless. The trash spilling over curbs and alleys; the traffic and noise; the visual blowout of billboards, signs, directions, advertising until the eye assault starts the brain Novocain just to cope. I’m surprised that there are not bodies in the streets of people who just gave up under the horror and simply up and died where they were standing.
I was very glad to get through the short distance we traveled through Idaho. Coeur d’Alene--a town I had looked forward to seeing--struck a sort of preternatural horror in me. The steep-forested sides of the Rockies were dark and cloud-covered. We had rain and some snow at the higher mountain passes. Forests are nearly as frightening as cities. The green was a dark green, a menacing green that challenged light. And if I strained to peer behind the front row of trees next to the highway all I could make out was more trees in continually darkening rows. The canyon walls got so high and so close together--it felt as if we were going to be swallowed by some huge set of jaws with many-faceted rows of pine trees for teeth. Then, suddenly--there it was. A huge lake. On both sides of the highway. Dark, deep endless water with wind-whipped whitecaps lapping at the road. Now the life-squeezing claustrophobia of the woods and clouds was supplemented by huge bodies of water on all sides. As if breathing weren’t hard enough already from the new pneumonia, this was too much. Grab the inhaler! Puff, inhale and hold! Do it again!!! And from this trauma we emerged into the morass of Spokane. No, it was not a good day.
We drove an additional three hours just to avoid having to backtrack through our mistakes in going through Spokane. We drove on roads that were nothing more than farm roads. We drove through places where the towns didn’t exist anymore! The clouds did start to break up. Eventually even the wretched forest disappeared. Then finally we were able to say we were out in the open! The sun was shining. Wheat was being harvested by kindly-looking old men on big tractors. It was finally safe to stop and approach the natives and find out where we were.
We stopped in a small town called Creston. We saw all these Rvs parked in an open field and centered around a log cabin building with a small bell. We thought it was an RV park and we were ready to end the day. The sign that greeted us said MATTHEW 6:33. Hmmmmm--odd sort of KOA. It turns out it was the GOSPEL COWBOY RV CAMP--ALL WELCOME. The same people have been having this camp for 22 years. People come in their Rvs, bring their horses and enjoy great rides mixed with Bible study and Cowboy Church. We were welcomed to attend during the next 3 days. As much as I was ready to chuck everything over in favor of staying, we knew we had obligations to meet in central Washington and no time to participate. That would have been one gathering I know I would never have forgotten.
We finally did find a place to spend the night just south of Coulee. The RV camp is called Sun Lakes State Park and RV Resort and it’s wonderful. It’s like being back on the desert only we’re down in a steep-walled canyon--a minature Grand Canyon-- with a wonderful reservoir, golf course, parks, great camping sites and peace and quiet. The sun is warm and benevolent, the sky is blue and it is easier to breathe free again. The trees are placed at non-threatening, decent intervals to provide shade and not terror. Byrdie has enjoyed a great swim and we are using the day to rest, do laundry and heal. Tomorrow we meet more family in Ellensburg, Washington.

Viruses are Evil

Revised plans: all side trips are off and we are trying to make the best time we can to Washington State. I have been very ill and the vicious microbe got me KOed for awhile. Finally ended up in the ER of Bismarck, North Dakota. It's the only part of the state I remember. Wonderful Dr. Bathurst!!! In only a few hours I was seen, tested, advised and sent on my way. The little mycobacteriumaviumintercellulareandalsowithyouAmen has a new friend--some loathesome viral infection--where else but in the lungs--aka, viral pneumonia. At least there was some sinister spot on x-ray. No more drugs to take for that so was sent on way with meds for motion sickness, etc. Under other circumstances, instructions to DO NOTHING would have been met with glee--but not now. At any rate, I'm a tad better today and was able to resume driving--a tad like Captain Kirk taking the helm of the Enterprise and telling Scotty to kick it in the slats!

deer, not antelope, and they are not playing

No Yellowstone, no Spearfish--just roll on into Washington. But what a state Montana is! I think I'm in love! The sky is everywhere and the openness is not like the unnerving prairie but a grand statement of BIGNESS. For the first time since starting this trip four weeks ago today, I almost hear the land saying, "Come here, you. Of all the gin joints in all the world, you finally picked a good one!" Even though it's cloudy and rainy Montana has made a connection with my soul.

Old and new houses

lone antelope and he's not playing either. The huge herds of antelope are beautiful to see.

Byrdie riding in RV








We're staying in Big Timber, Montana, tonight at the Spring Creek Campground on the Boulder River. It is spectacular! Last night was in Glendive, Montana--sounds like something that goes in a salad. It was also a wonderful campground. We've been very fortunate in having such good campground experiences. Tonight we're backed right up to the river and the sound is wonderful. I can also hear distant thunder. I wish we could stay a few days in this beautiful place.

Turning Back from the Far East

September 15, 2007

We left Wisconsin early afternoon today only this time Mr. Toccata is along for the ride. I'm used to driving along, chatting to Byrdie, and am startled to hear an answer occasionally to my musings. Byrdie has adapted fairly quickly to being displaced from the co-pilot's seat.

Three quick observations: First, the cold. I don't like it. I don't like one thing about it. I had to go into town to get a jacket. Since the 2nd hand store was closed for renovation, I actually had to go to a real store and pay full price. Of course I mean the WalMart. I was shocked! They wanted $46.00 for a made in China plasticky-type coat with fake fur that would only tickle my nose and smell if it got wet. No way that's going down. So I booked it over to the "Men's Department" and found a sale on jackets for only twenty bucks--it's fire-engine red--but more than adequate. There was a frost this morning--that means the ground was white and it scrunched when you walked on the grass. Time to head to warmer climes for sure!

The second encounter is of the gross type. We stopped to put gas in the RV. It was a normal stop until these two small hatchback station wagons(?) pulled in next to us. All four doors on each vehicle immediately flew open and approximately 6-8 young girls popped out. These girls were not wanting for lack of nourishment. They were shoving chocolate bars into their mouths. They made for the back of each vehicle and opened up the back lift doors. The vehicles were filled with caged rabbits!! As soon as they opened up the back doors, the smell of many rabbits just permeated the air around the gas pumps. I had no idea rabbits could stink so much! Then the mother got out of one of the vehicles--she was at the same pump as I was only on the other side. She went to remove her gas cap and at the same time let out this quite sustained belch--as if it were the most common sound to produce before pumping gas! Oh well--just a little vignette of a window into a simple stop for fuel.

By now I have forgotten what the third observation was that I wanted to make! Not all the bikers descending on Tomahawk, Wisconsin, to celebrate Harleys on the same day Harley Davidson announced they were closing three Wisconsin plants; not the sadness at leaving the beauty of Wisconsin; Not the beauty of St Croix River and the little town on its banks. Not the drag of being back in the corn fields of Minnesota.

It's good to be on the road again. I like it. We're at an RV park that has been taken over by some sort of rally activity. I hear the sound of bottles hitting metal trash cans and the obbligato bonfire has been lit. I must ask someone about this bonfire fixation. I keep expecting the air quality police to raid the place at any minute.

I remembered the third thing--ticks are really disgusting! Poor Byrdie is a four-legged TAC--Tick Attraction Unit! Thank you Cousin Mike for getting the worst ones off her but I had to do tick duty this evening here in St. Cloud. And that brings up another question--who is St. Cloud? Here is the St. Croix River that we crossed--very small bridge and not too high. It was here that I saw the first grafitti I've seen in three weeks. It was an even more vivid reminder of how clean and orderly this part of the country is. I will miss the cleanliness and local pride most of all. How can such a beautiful state as California tolerate people living and acting like pigs? Why do the rest of us allow it? My suggestion for a first step? Quit calling defacing property "tagging" as if it were a cute children's prank. It isn't. It's vandalism plain and simple. And then make the little pukes clean it up--totally! There is absolutely no reason for a community to tolerate dirt, grafitti or meandering groups of threatening males. Period.

Our plans are to head into North Dakota and see some of the country around Bismarck and then back into Spearfish. Since Mr. Toccata is responsible for the navigation I don't actually know where we're going. I believe Yellowstone and Montana and Jackson Hole are somewhere on the agenda.

More later when we hit the next reliable internet connection.

Hey! It's Technically Still Summer!!!

Sept. 14, 2007
Illusions about living outside of California are dropping as rapidly as the leaves off the trees here in the Big Woods. Just because we had some days in Bakersfield that were 116o whatever could have made me think that cold weather would be nice? It’s not nice!! It’s--it’s--what is the word? It’s COLD. Cold makes one want to stay under the covers; cold makes my knees hurt; cold means you needs lots of blankets and lots of clothes!
Before leaving California, almost as an afterthought, I threw in my heaviest coat--the one with the hood I bought six years ago for the Alaska cruise--plus a pair of gloves, a sweater, one long-sleeved shirt, a few pairs of socks and a hat. I thought I might need such things if our trip went into October and we were somewhere that has “cold.” I have worn all those things so far--and mostly all at the same time!! It’s still not enough clothing. The surprising thing is seeing so many children here still running around without so much as a sweater. Don’t their mothers know how cold out it is? Why are these wee ones even allowed outside when it is only 45o? I’m very thankful I brought an electric blanket along--plus a heating pad for “just in case.”
Another odd weather event is making me rethink this type of climate. When it got so dang cold it also got windy and rainy. Not just overcast--real rain! It had thunder and lightning thrown in as well just in case somebody tried to ignore the buckets of water added to the systemic cold shock. I always thought of rain as something that smelled good and cleaned the dust out of the air. This rain only smells wet and forget about walking in it to cool off. You’d be a human icicle if you got wet and stayed outdoors!
I had to visit the medical clinic here for a meds check. (I have to put in a plug for the Marshfield Clinic system in Wisconsin--it’s fantastic! Wisconsin has the eighth best healthcare system in the nation.) I suppose the doctor noticed how bundled up I was because we got to talking about our search for the ideal retirement place. His quick assessment was brief and to the point: winters here are brutal--you’d never make it. Have you thought about Oahu? That just might be the best advice I’ve ever gotten at a doctor’s visit!

On Wisconsin!

Sept. 10, 2007
We’re gathered--possibly for the last time--at the Little House in the Big Woods. Even though my father-in-law died last January his presence is still perceptible around the cabin. But his absence is even larger. At any given time there are at least 10-25 people here. The front of the property has a travel trailer, our RV and a 5th wheel. Cars, lawnchairs, tables and toys are everywhere and it’s the funny madhouse when large families gather.

I looked at the newest generation of younguns all running around and realized they would never experience this. Their parents have chosen to only have one or two kids. No matter how hard they try they will not have the experience of being with so many generations that no one can really separate it all out. They won’t know what it means to be in a room so crowded with people of all ages that everyone is just called cousin even though some are aunts and uncles, great grandkids, half-siblings, etc. The generations are all overlapped. It seems most of the relatives my age come from families where there are at least 4-7 siblings. And their parents were from even larger families than that! But, to be honest, I haven’t seen that being from a large family means you are from a happier family. All I can really observe is that when everyone gathers, people appear to be happy at the time. But I wouldn’t be meeting so many “exes” and “half*.*s” if folks had been all that content all the time!

Mr. Toccata lost two members of his family within two weeks. Two brothers of the original seven siblings died within two weeks of each other. The first service was for my husband’s uncle. There was a funeral mass conducted by an excellent priest. Very few members of the family believe in anything so it was the gathering of his church family that provided the spiritual support. The priest spoke of hope and faith and the certainty of eternal life. To me the liturgy reinforced meaning to a simple live that was lived extremely well. The memorial tomorrow will be in pretty strong contrast. The grief of my FIL’s children is as valid but they believe nothing--as did my FIL. I dwell on why even have a service. What’s the point if the deceased believed in nothing and the children believe in nothing--what is there to commemorate but horrid nothingness? Better to head to the local tavern and just get drunk. And exactly to whom will the words that will be spoken be addressed? Perhaps people believe more than they will ever admit.

Computer time at the public library here is limited so I’d better try and post while I can. Pictures still are not possible which is too bad since the land is beautiful. California seems very far away right now but I have also lost track of days and dates.
Health update: I have a few good days now. Perhaps the meds will actually help!

Mind Meanderings while on semi-auto-pilot

September 7, 2007

Driving 5o mph on country roads with no radio reception certainly allows the brain to follow some unexpected meanderings. Even though I’ve been on the road over two weeks I’m still glad I didn’t fly.

Great bar on Madeleine Island--Pete's Burned Down Again Bar.

Rantings:

I’ve pretty much had it with airports and the stupidity that is the driving force behind them. Until profiling is rigidly utilized I’m just not walking on their dirty floors in my bare feet or having some pimply-faced, dull-eyed lackey touch me or wand me. I am not the problem!!! The problem is any man wearing any head covering that is not either a Stetson or baseball cap!!! There’s your first tip-off. Another problem is any woman dressed so you can’t see her face or hair. After those 2 categories are implemented, then the profiling proceeds to anyone who is Moslem with the largest subset being Moslem young male. I simply don’t want to fly with these risks. Oh my! Oh Gasp! How un-PC! Well ain’t that a whole lot of too bad???
Tugboat

More Rantings:
I also think Saudi Airlines shouldn’t be allowed to land at any American airport until they remove their ban on bringing onto their planes any Bible, Cross or anything that symbolizes Christian or Jewish adherence. I’m not making this up! Look up Saudi Airlines on the Web and read their advertising blurb--it’s right there.

Pink house in Bayfield.

Even more rantings:

I found myself wondering if anyone else is as puzzled as I am why so many things happening in this country these days make no sense? A news item on the radio said that the governor of Wisconsin has vetoed a bill requiring photo ID to vote. Why would anyone veto something so logical??? I have had to show a photo ID just to camp at every place the last two weeks. Over 90% of the people in Wisconsin want this bill approved and yet it gets vetoed three times! What is his rationale??? Oh yeah--if someone can’t afford a photo ID (they cost money???) the government would pay for it!! And it still gets vetoed. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that is screwy.
As my brain wandered down more “huh” topics I got to thinking about our open borders. Why is there such a vocal powerful group who keep saying we can’t seal the borders or do anything about all the illegals in the country? Why can’t we do something about it? The first thing I would do if tax all money being sent out to Mexico--and I’d tax it at 50%. And all the people in court for driving without a license--in fact, anybody who goes through the court system and isn’t a citizen--should be sent back to their country of origin. Why is this a difficult thing? Why are we paying the prison bill for non-citizens? Makes no sense.

Enough rantings. I'll give Google a chance to post some pretty shots.

Bayfield Wisconsin

Sept. 6, 2007
Every once in awhile one is the recipient of a near-perfect day. We had that today. Right now I’m in the Apostle Islands Area Campground in Bayfield, Wisconsin. This is a storybook little town of 600 people on Lake Superior. The houses are turn-of-the-century, flowers everywhere, hilly streets, charming buildings and shops and all set against the Lake outlined by tall masts of sailboats docked in the harbor that today just sparkled in the bright sunshine. Walt Disney could not have done “Sea Harbor VillageLand” any better!
The first order of the day was to find out where the three cafes were in town that offered free internet. In our meanderings through Bayfield we came upon a 1903 Carnegie library. What do public libraries have?? INTERNET!! Unfortunately, the sign said closed. But the grounds were so inviting that we parked to get a few pictures. As tourists do, we struck up a conversation with another visitor and discovered that the internet was available after hours. Indeed, a picnic table next to the library itself was being used as an internet corner. With whoops, Mr. T. and I grabbed our laptops and pretty soon there were four happy tourists madly signing on with servers, checking emails, sending pictures to families and even getting some real work done. It was one of the most charming “connections” of the trip. When I think of the places that lied about having internet and the frustration of being disappointed and then to suddenly have bandwidth from heaven struck us a very funny.
A hefty breakfast/lunch followed at The Egg Toss (across the street from A Stone’s Throw) followed by taking the cars on the ferry over to Madeleine Island. Byrdie got to wear herself out fetching the ball from the Lake--she never tires of swimming and bringing back the ball. The Island is beautiful but it was hard to imagine living there during the winter--and yet 220 people do. I found it alarming that the children go to school over in Bayfield on the ferry, then by WINDSLED the 2.5 miles until the ice freezes hard enough for the cars to DRIVE ON THE ICE over to the mainland!!!! I simply can’t imagine allowing one’s children to go on ice of any thickness--no way, no how, via a windsled. Home schooling would look very good. And yet over in Knife River in Minnesota they also mentioned that the ice gets thick enough to drive on! This is fodder for nightmares in my book.
It has been so wonderful to be in small-town America where there seem to be so many amenities for the locals. The streets and empty lots are free from trash; there is no graffiti; English is spoken everywhere; people look you in the eye and a person feels that perhaps one has stumbled through a time portal back into an America I was beginning to think had never existed. The thought of what California has become makes me shudder. How is it that there is enough money in the last 5 states I’ve been in to have the nice civic buildings, good streets, public services that work and ordinary people taking care of themselves? California is one of the prime economies in the world and yet we live like pigs. Our cities are ugly, dirty, littered, filled with way too many folk that make you grab your pocketbook tightly to your chest. Which is the real world? Is it only an illusion of being safe here in this beautiful state? Or is reality the relentless waves of have-nots, do-nots, what-nots? I can’t figure it out. I can only conclude that California spends its wealth where there is no return.

Thank you Andrew

I am writing from the lawn of the Bayfield, Wisconsin, Public Library--one of the many libraries established by Andrew Carnegie. The library doesn't open until 1:00 pm but the internet connection is accessible from a wonderful old picnic table out under a tree. We are not the only tekkies using the facilities. There are a total of 4 of us with our laptops set up in the beautiful end of summer day overlooking Lake Superior! And we are not young kids either--we're all grandparents! I think it is one of the funniest moments of the entire trip--making an internet connection in an unexpected place is quite the bonding experience.

Sept. 4, 2007 I made it to Wisconsin!!! But not before spending enjoyable hours at The Mocha Moose in Knife River and getting totally lost in the hills of Wisconsin--thanks to the NavSys that once again failed me big-time. I thought I’d spend the first half of the day driving further up the North Coast of Lake Superior but I only got about 3 miles. The Mocha Moose offered free internet so I settled in. After catching up pretty haphazardly on my blog entries fresh, hot cinnamon rolls were delivered. No one could resist such a delicacy so I had to stay longer. The Knife River RV campground manager, Randy, came in and it was fun being in a strange place and having someone greet me by name and chat a bit. I think that’s the fun thing about small places--if you sit in one place long enough, you get a feel for what happens by the people who wander in and out. I met a woman who makes dog clothing and she had her Yorkie with her--newly groomed and nicely outfitted. They were there to have pictures taken of the Mocha Moose coffee shop. Then I met a woman who introduced herself as the Rev. Mary. She works with abused women and lives in a travel trailer across the highway. She was asking me about my trip and when I mentioned I’d been sick she just grabbed my hand and offered to pray for me right there. First thing I did was ask her if she were a Christian! When she said she was I figured why not? Who is ever in a position to turn down prayers! Well, she just prayed up a storm and left me her card about some franchise she was thinking of getting into--a natural elixir that has dropped her pain level to almost nothing. Since I’d used up most of the morning at the Moose, I decided to head over to Wisconsin. Since I refuse to drive over any big bridges over water I had to take a pretty southerly route and then swing back up. This plan--so carefully worked out with the help of 4 customers and the owner at the Moose--worked great until the numerous county routes of Wisconsin fouled up the NavSys. It was memories of cornfields in Minnesota again! I was on dirt roads, former roads, under-construction roads and then some of the same roads all over again. What should have been a 3 hour trip became 6 hours. At least I got some good photos from the ordeal. I finally arrived at the Apostle Islands Campground and have a great spot. It’s on a small knoll looking out over the hills and trees. The surprising thing is that I feel in the middle of nowhere but have cable hook-up! I don’t even have cable at home! Tonight is my last night alone for a long time. Two weeks on the road and it seems just a blink. The good news is that I did it!! I’m doing better with the meds and hope that the worst of adjusting to them is over. I’m looking forward to spending a few days here with my family. It will be a special interlude before we head on down to the family gathering and the two memorial services as well as the closing up of Mr. Toccata’s father’s home. It had been the gathering point for his family for the last quarter century. His dad’s ashes will be buried on the land that has been in the family for generations. It doesn’t happen much anymore that a person is buried in the same place where he was born.

Beautiful Knife River on Lake Superior

What a big lake!!! I mean, like, dude, really really BIG!!!!

More or less Plum Creek

I have difficulty with this blog format. They seem to disappear into outer space and the mock-up is not WYSIWYG. I can't even find the last 3 blogs to edit although friends assure me they are able to read them. As I was trying to post, here are some pics from my visit to Little House on the Prairie as well as they beauty of Lake Superior here in Knife River.

I left Mitchell SD pretty early for me. I got on the Interstate and on a whim turned off to see De Smet(?) where the real house built by Charles Ingalls still stands. I figured I had plenty of time and it was only 55 miles out of my way but in the same general direction. That was the first of many BAD decisions made today.

I was doing fine following all the plentiful signs to the Ingalls house but then wham! There were no more signs! Once again the signs lead you along and then when the critical turn comes, there’s no marker. The turning lanes for right turns are only about 3 times the length of the RV so there are no backsies. I don’t know what was wrong with the NavSys but she kept wanting me to take every rural and county road ever laid out by the GRIDMAN. I remember Wing had said to be sure and see Pipe something. I went through it twice and never did make the right turn.

Driving the Minnie is not like driving the Jeep and the roads here have zero shoulder room. They are just 2-way, narrow lane roads that drop off precipitously into steep ditches. There are no turn-outs or places to make a U-turn. And, to make everything even more indistinguishable there is nothing but CORN!!!!!!! Corn everywhere!!! On both sides of the road!!!! Mile after mile state after state of CORN!!!!

I filled up in a little town called Tracy and the gas pump made me laugh in the midst of my cussing. The premium pump had cobwebs all over it--obviously no one uses that kind of gas. The regular nozzle informed me that the gasoline was 10% ethanol!!! Now I had a reason why they were growing more corn than there were head of cattle on 3 planets!!! The shiny new silos were also a hint of hopes of big things to come in the alternate fuel department.

I decided to push on towards Walnut Grove and finally get to see the actual site of the Little House on the Prairie books. The Nav Sys kept me going on and off Highway 14 until I was so turned around and lost in the CORN that I found myself programming in little towns just to get from one place to another.

I cheered when I crossed a small creed and the sign said Plum Creek!!! I turned off into a county park and at the end of the cul-de-sac I was able to park the Minnie and go exploring in the real Plum Creek. Byrdie, of course, headed for the water immediately. She had a wonderful time--the water wasn’t deep at all--bounding up and down the banks and getting as wet as she could. It wasn’t until I got her back into the RV that I realized that the mud of that sweet Plum Creek was smelly, like tar and black sticky goo. Before I could grab her the damage was done--black thick mud all over the carpet that Mr. Toccata had worked so hard to clean before I’d left Bakersfield. Mud was all over the linoleum also. I finally pinned her down but not before her paws had ruined my white t-shirt and jeans. I had to hose down each paw in the shower then mop the floors and clean the carpet where the mud had left such awful stains. Persuading a 65 pound dog to get even one paw in the RV shower was not an easy chore.
A clean set of clothes and 5 towels later I was ready to see the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum.

The people working there were so helpful. Not much is left of the original settlement. Actually, nothing is left of the original places but there is a lot of great memorabilia and reconstructions of a sod hut and the buildings used in the TV series. What struck me the most was the large page of the county birth register--about one third of the parents had been born in a foreign country! The countries were Sweden, England and Scotland. I couldn’t help but compare it to the influx of illegals we experience on a daily basis in Bakersfield. All those babies from the early 1800s grew up speaking English, their parents were here legally and they all were hell-bent to become Americans and blend in as well as prosper. The families knew why they were here!

On the other hand, today had times when I was ashamed to be an American. Almost every American I met under the age of 45 was grossly overweight. I mean really, really fat. Even the little kids were way past “pudgy.” What is the matter with the population? How can so many people be so morbidly obese? I don’t see people walking around shoving food into their mouths--but some folk were too big to even fit through the doors inside “Grandma’s House” at the Museum! They could only peep in at the exhibits. Then they would go outside to rest on one of the many benches.
I left Walnut Grove with presents for the grandkids and a desire to be out of the CORN.


But the NavSys had different ideas. Pretty soon I was calling Mr Toccata for help from California as he worked out a more direct route than turning at right angles at every county road that came up--and there are a bazillion county roads in the CORN. Approximately 9 hours after I left Mitchell--allowing for the 2 hours in Walnut Grove--I arrived at the WestRich RV Park in Spicer, MN. These are the nicest people!!!! Even though I’ve been without wifi for days I was so grateful to have a place to stay. This is the 2nd night of Labor Day Week-end and everyplace required either a 3-day reservation of were already full. The family running it has 4 small children and were just wonderful. They helped me back in--I was rather frazzled by this point having been driven to the point of insanity by the CORN--and they were so gracious.

I had to clean out some food from the refrigerator and what did I find that had to be eaten?? CORN!!!! I wasn’t sure I could eat it but it was quite good--the kernals on the cob were both yellow and white.

Compared to the RV Park where I stayed last night in Mitchell, this one was heaven. The surprise is that these people are here in clans and are set up to enjoy the entire week-end. I’m one of the few staying just one night. The people across from me have had a big bonfire going and have strung Christmas lights around their rig. Many people have pinned up large American flags or actually planted flag poles in the ground. There are countless lawn c hairs, portable gazebos with bug netting, tons of children, dogs, extra vehicles, awnings--you name it, this encampment has it! The atmosphere is really one of a big festival. I have a feeling it will be a tad noisy for sleeping but this isn’t any worse than the many nights I’ve slept next to an Interstate. My aloneness seems very peculiar and people have actually asked me where my husband is! Byrdie is always a hit though and makes me seem “maybe okay” since I am alone.

There are two Catholic churches listed for Spicer--and they both have the same address but different mass schedules! I don’t understand what that is about. A Fr. Fred Fink--I am not making this up--is the rector for both places--which appear to be the same place. One is called St. Anthony’s parish and the other is Our Lady of the Lakes parish. Both are listed at 13722 Hwy 23 NE! We shall see. I just want to get to sleep. Of course preparation for mass is a must--for me that means remembering to shave my legs so I don’t have to wear hose with a skirt! Perhaps it means other more spiritual things to others. As it turned out, I found the church but the mass times had been changed from what was listed on their website. I'm sure intentions count for everything!


Notes on the day:
I wonder if the people who live here notice the eau de manure hanging over everything? After the Byrdie episode at Plum Creek and realizing how infrequently people could bathe perhaps the odor in the air is just residual from all the people who have lived without indoor plumbing and working in the dirt and with animals. The flies are still thick--it kind of goes with the smell. Some bug bit me on the ankle at Plum Creek and it has caused quite the reaction! Bakersfield is actually looking good in comparison. On the other hand, I’ve really enjoyed the absence of graffiti and the orderliness of this world. There is no litter and other than all the Japanese tourists at Mt. Rushmore, I’ve only heard English! I’d forgotten what it feels like to live in a homogeneous society. BUT--on the other hand, I would go absolutely nuts with the sameness. BUT--on the other hand, perhaps it is easier for people to grow the CORN without too much restlessness or discontent or else they would all leave. There are ruins of old homesteads and barns all over. I wish I could more easily photograph them. By the time I see something particularly ruined and aged I’m past the property and there is no way to turn the rig around. I did drive up to one abandoned and for sale property today. Do the ruins represent collapsed dreams the way they do in the desert? Or are these the old skins the folks who stayed and prospered shed off when they built bigger and nicer houses in the same area?
I don’t think the CORN is picked. It seems the entire stalk is ripped from the earth by some machine. It leaves a totally bare spot in the CORN covering of the earth. The wind was blowing pretty hard today--I think wind and plains go together--and folks were complaining that their CORN allergies were acting up. Even the Ingalls family moved all over the place from Wisconsin to Minnesota to South Dakota to Iowa and back again. Did they ever have the same mental stress from the plains? I find that the endless open flatness makes me very uneasy. Yet the CORN makes me feel claustrophobic! It is like a bad case of agoraphobia and claustrophobia competing for the dominant neurosis!!! No--I could not live here. More and more I’m understanding that the geographical area that imprinted on me from infancy is what soothes. And that can be very depressing! I think I want out of Southern California but no place “calls” to me. I keep remember the woman volunteer park aid in Vernal, Utah. She and her husband were out “looking” for that special place and they both felt that Vernal screamed at them, “This is IT!!!! Settle down here in your retirement!!!” I wonder if that will happen to us or is Bakersfield just where we happened to be when the music stopped? As the punch line to the old joke goes: Everybody has to be someplace!

It’s 11:30pm and the hoo-wah non-verbal sounds from the various clan gatherings can be heard. I don’t think there is any beer shortage here and the protestant work ethic that laid out such severe rows of CORN is not evident with the young campers here!

THE CORN PALACE--WONDER OF THE MIDWEST

Actually, I was pretty impressed with the Corn Palace--and it was FREE!!! The outside has to be rebuilt every year with new corn and a new theme. Obviously the interior exists to sell food for the starving masses of this part of the country who look anything but underfed. I will not detract from this posting on the revered Corn Palace. I will save those observations for later. Oh yes! The Corn Palace actually houses a gymnasium for basketball games!

The RV park--R&R--in Mitchell was awful. This is where they lied to me about wifi. This is where another older camper spotted some red plastic tape blowing in the wind atop a power pole and thought it was flames shooting out from the transformer. This is where the woman behind the desk couldn't decide what to do if someone comes running in the office shouting "FIRE!!!!" I suggested this might be a time to call 911 since she had an entire RV park full of campers and there was only one way out. My spot was directly beneath the not-so-flaming pole of fire but I got good shots of the fast response from the Mitchell FD. They were not amused.