Emptiness and Vastness

The mood heading home from vacation is so different from the excitement of starting out. The distances seem longer; the scenery seems to change more slowly.

We're coming back a different way. I don't care to see the plains of southern Idaho ever again!

We traveled today from Grangeville, Idaho, to Burns, Oregon today. The climate got hotter and the landscape more dry and barren. Mr. T indulged my preference of avoiding Interstates so we traveled back roads.

It is amazing how unoccupied so much of this country is! There is so much beauty of all kinds. But we go hours and see only a few outposts. Folks here seem to be farmers and that's hard work. But most of the land just is there--being land. I'm surprised that we have driven along some river all day long--the Salmon River and the Malheur River being the largest.

Eastern Oregon is so sparsely populated. 3000 people live here in Burns and the RV Park manager has lived here 30 years--and loves it. These are not places I would ever fit in--if, indeed, there is a place I could ever fit in. Do most people travel through life--even if they never leave their neighborhood--feeling as if they don't quite fit?

Long stretches of open highway and no little towns will fill your mind with such questions. But no answers--just changing time zones and state lines.

The beautiful big skies and open spaces are soothing after so many closed canyons and thick trees.

Our stay in Burns ended with a grand thunder and lightning show and a great rain. Nothing smells better than rain on desert!

Glacier in the Rear View Mirror

Goodbye Glacier—we’ll be back! What a wonderful place and I hope to have many more visits. But I noticed one thing about the scenery—it can be so overwhelming that it can be tiring. I’m ready to come home to Sonoma County and its more soothing, restorative beauty.

Montana is a state that will roll you down a huge mountain and drown you in a rough river. I need the “cuddling” of a place that will soothe you with vineyards, delight you with a perfect sirah and whisper “chill” with every snapshot. (Of course one would not chill a red wine but ‘chill’ in the slang sense of the word.)

We drove through an area called Flathead. It sounds like someone is being insulted with that word but I can’t figure out who. Oh well—the Flathead Lake and River are magnificent.

We stopped at the Swan River National Wildlife Refuge. It was wonderful! We were the only ones there and the quiet was exciting. It was a huge grassy, marshy valley surrounded by those great high peaks.

The Minnie had to take the dirt road very carefully and Mr. T had to execute one of his famous ten-point turns at the end.

The dogs loved rolling in the mud of the swamps—which, of course, necessitated another stop at one of the numerous clear lakes so they could swim and lose the doggy/marshy smell.

And now tonight, as an example of Mr. T’s sense of humor, we are staying at Jellystone RV Park. How many people even remember Yogi and BoBo?? In 10 minutes Yogi himself will make the rounds of the park in his own electric cart! How many times did we mimic Yogi saying, “Hey, hey, Bobo—I see another pic-a-nic basket!!!”

(By the way, is it just me or do RV parks glibly advertise wifi and then you GET NOTHING?)

It's Out of the Comfort Zone

Mr. T used his persuasive way with words to lure me into a gondola ride up a HUGE mountain in a place called Whitefish. “It’ll be great!” he said. “Just think of the great photos from the top,” he said. And I believed him—much to my dismay.

I remember riding a tram up the side of San Jacinto back in ’66. The memory was only vaguely unnerving and we rode up that mountain in total darkness. I had no idea what it’s really like in a gondola (I don’t care if it’s made in Switzerland) until he pushed me in, the martinet running the operation slammed the door closed, and the cage rocked off and up.

TERROR! That little bubble started up the mountain—not just a few feet off the ground but so high up I expected oxygen masks to drop from the overhead at any minute. It also didn’t help that a few minutes into the ascent Mr. T said, “Come sit here next to me—I need to KILL something.” The “something” was a wicked looking, brown, hairy spider the size of a half dollar. Oh pass me mah salts and a strong drink. Kudos to Mr. T for his try at slaying the monster but he only managed to knock it off the ceiling and it scurried into some crevasse known only to the spider.

(I didn't have a picture of the spider but here's a picture I took of a dead snake back in Wyoming.)

Then the dang gondola simply stopped! Midway up the mountain we stopped. Is anyone reading this old enough to remember the monster movie “The Crawling Eye” from the late Fifties? (UP THE HILL! IT’S COMING UP THE HILL, PROFESSOR!!)

We finally reached the top and I nearly trampled Mr. T to get out. First stop—the bar. No way to get down except to walk 5 miles or ride that piece of bubble wrap down. Even though there was a perfectly good dirt road they refused to have someone drive up to take me down. I will hold a grudge for a long time.

Meanwhile, small children and young adults were flying down a narrow mountain bike trail called The Runaway Train. It was steep, fast, and contained both man-made and natural obstacles. I’ve decided I don’t need to get out so often. It’s too frightening.

Mosquitoes and No See'ums

I need a vote—does anyone find that citronella works for repelling mosquitoes??? You light the little candle in the tin bucket and all you have after an hour is 15 mosquito bites and a cute little mini-pail that you just can’t bring yourself to throw away. Pass me that OFF!

The little annoying insects are everywhere. If I’m with Mr. T I’m generally ok because they prefer his skin to mine. But good grief! I want a bee keeper’s outfit on just to go outside.

Another question—is it just me or does Budweiser taste better than it used to? After a hot day in the 90ies on top of mountains, it really goes down easily. We’re only allowed to have our generator on 3 times a day and the last segment is from 5-7 pm. While we wait to get the A/C running and our dinner cooked, we sat at the picnic table, eye out for bears, downing Buds and lighting citronella candles. It’s an interesting way of life—but I’m starting to miss wifi, A/C, my cell phone, and especially showers with all the hot water I want!

It reminds me of a new road sign I saw today—ROUGH BREAK. Before we could discuss what it meant, we found out! The road breaks and falls in a few inches. Since I take nearly half of my photos from the moving RV/car, I figure I lost about 5 pictures for the blog. Gives a whole new meaning to "Road Pictures."

Road to the Sun

We spent the day driving the Road to the Sun—1926 technology and still impressive. It was staggeringly beautiful. We did the whole loop all the way around the park. This park definitely gets an A+.

Although I am a desert rat at heart, this part of Montana will take your breath away. (I have to admit that the narrowness of the road and the overhang made me a tad anxious. I couldn’t help remembering the 7.1 quake of 1959 that killed 25 people are formed a new lake back in Gallatin.

Water is everywhere! Byrdie and Talus got to swim in lakes that can only be imagined in California. Speaking of California and water…….I looked at all the abundant water in Montana and couldn’t help feeling how nice it would be for California to get some of their water. They obviously have more than they could ever use—and we are so needy.

We will need to return to Glacier. I want to drive into the Canadian part of the park and have High Tea at Waterton. I want to take the boat tours on St. Mary Lake and Two Medicine. I want more time to just sit still and absorb the grandeur.

STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT MY OPINION ON SOMETHING.

It's been odd being out of touch with news--no TV, no internet and no cell phone. I finally got a radio station and heard that CA has cut $9 billion for public schools from its budget. I say at least it’s a start! Maybe sex ed will be one mandated program among many that will shave off a few administrators. I could teach sex ed in about 3 minutes. If you do it, you’ll get pregnant. Or, if you’re a boy, she’ll get pregnant. What you say? Just kill off the baby with federal dollars? You say it’s just a blob, not a baby? Well, if it’s not a baby then I guess you’re not pregnant. No problem!

Buffalo Jam--Don't Put It On Toast

I am tired of being held captive to wacked out tree-huggers. IMHO, they have way too much say in our lives. It’s bad enough farmers in the San Joaquin are denied water to grow crops because of a useless smelt fish. But now students are being frightened of their ability to hurt a fragile earth. It approaches idolatry.

Yesterday we stopped at the big Yellowstone Visitors' Center--a very nice place, by the way. One little girl--about 8 years old--was nearly in tears. And why? Because she was UPSET that the glaciers were getting smaller!!! I suppose that some over-zealous “Earth Only” convert had told her that the bad, bad humans were making the big, beautiful glacier go away. Give me a break! Might as well tell a gnat to go easy on the Hoover Dam! Of course they're getting smaller--the last ice age is still retreating. They could hardly be growing--and if they were, we'd better start worrying about something a lot more serious than this bogus global warming the fake scientists have worked up gullible folks about.

While I was buying maps and looking for Grandma souvenirs like mugs, magnets and t-shirts, Mr. T was walking the dogs in a beautiful grassy field. BUSTED! He was lucky he didn’t get a ticket. No dogs allowed. It doesn’t matter if you have plastic bags and pooper scooper in hand, no dogs—no way. Even the pioneering work of Harvey Milk held no sway here.

We finally found a turn-out with a picnic table next to a nice river that was not official forest service land. With a whoop we whirled that Minnie into the small spot and the dogs and us were on our way to the water. Byrdie is fine in the currents and loves to swim. Talus hates the water and never did master the art of swimming. Unfortunately, a bird chose just that moment to swoop down in front of the poodle and off he went! He chased that bird and must have flown across the creek or walked across it. When he came to himself, he realized he was stuck and no amount of coaxing from us would entice him to enter the creek and swim back.

Mr. T to the rescue—he actually waded into the icy water out to the small sandbar where the poodle was stranded. He scooped him up in his arms and then waded back thru the running waters. What a guy! But Talus loses water privileges for awhile.

You didn't think I'd leave out an account of Yellowstone without a generic pic of Old Faithful, did you? Mr. T and I had become separated. I was saving front row seats and I could see him half a park away looking for me. I organized my section of seats into a yelling section and, after only one rehearsal, yelled 'MR. T.!!!" and all waved our arms.

No response. But then the section of seats to the right offered to help out so on the count of 3, about 60 people yelled and waved again: "MR. T.!!!!!!!!" This time he heard us and we were finally reunited. It was truly heartwarming to see so many different nationalities coming together to get the attention of one person. There is hope yet for world peace.

We were stuck in a mammoth traffic jam trying to exit Yellowstone. The reason for our two hour delay? A buffalo had wandered onto the road and decided to take a nap. When this happens, no one is allowed to disturb the buffalo. Say what??? I can’t yell at the critter to move it? No one can drive a big diesel-pusher up to press the lazy critter just a tad to convince it to move along? This happens with some frequency and it is called BUFFALO JAM. Pass me mah salts.

Actually, I found the entire Yellowstone experience unsettling. I think it comes down to the atmosphere that people are the intruders and not especially welcome.

Although we had reserved two days, we didn’t return to the park the 2nd day. We just hid out in the Minnie, recovering from buffalo jam, hoards of people, tense driving and poodle rescue. Sometimes a day spent doing laundry in a KOA is pretty good R&R.

The Best National Park Ever

We are ‘camped’ at Fish Creek Campground in Glacier National Park. They have done a fantastic job of combining many different types of campers and still maintaining the feeling of being off in the woods.

Apgar Village is our civilization center—shall we rate it on a scale of one to ten???

Like so many Visitors’ Centers and tourist traps, the gift shops are like walking into a fabricated, idolized Indian world. Children’s books are the biggest giveaway—you will look long and hard to find any book that reflects positively (if at all!) on any Western contribution.

One title caught my eye—written by a white female, I’m sure. It was called Grandmother Spider Brings the Sun. I wonder if it might have been better if ol’ granny had brought a wheel—or an alphabet. I bet the Indian women would have been thrilled if Wise Old Nana had brought tampons.

Both Mr. T and I fled the shop with only ice cream for our troubles. However, it did morph into several repetitions of all we could remember of “Davy, Davy Crockett—King of the Wild Frontier.”

Is Chevy Chase in this Movie Too?

Six days on the road--oh wait--Johnny Cash already wrote that song. Here we sit on a gorgeous day inside the RV outside the West Yellowstone Park entrance. Our heads are bloodied but unbowed.

Maybe not exactly bloodied but poor Mr. T has been attacked by every mosquito in the park, Byrdie is having, uh, digestion problems, Talus has run away once and gotten stranded across a mountain stream (Mr. T to the rescue to ford the creek and carry the poodle back across) and I realize I couldn't have stocked the RV with enough gin and fresh limes to make this seem like a good idea. More about Poodle Rescue later.

Okay--so the first night we stayed underneath the landing planes at Reno International Airport. It can happen. The second night in Wells, Nevada, I started to remember how big this country is. The RV park was small and very nice—Mountain Shadows. When we went to leave in the morning they’d hung a sign on the door “Gone to Church.”

After leaving Nevada and entering Idaho a bit of a panic began to set in. It was in Jackpot, Nevada, that I remembered I do not like the prairie or large open places. It is unnerving to see nothing but the horizon when one looks out.

THERE IS NO OCEAN! WE ARE TRAPPED! WE ARE LANDLOCKED!!!

And “looking out” is what one does driving all day. See picture taken from front of Minnie.

See picture taken from side window of Minnie.

Do you get the picture???

Our destination was Park #1—Craters of the Moon. But that is another post. Three days of driving the flatlands had me over the edge. But I wanted to let my faithful 30 readers know we had not fallen off the ends of this flat earth.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin', Keep that Minnie Rollin'

Yes, Mr T and I have returned to the road. As with most undertakings, it seemed such a great idea when it was first hatched. I'm sure it will get better.

We left the perfect vacation spot of Sonoma County WHERE WE LIVE and, after a week of prep, headed east. It is always such a shock to re-enter the frenetic world of urban California. The traffic, the freeways, the aggressive drivers......and the great question: Why does California with its overflowing population have the WORST roads with the fewest lanes while states like Montana and South Dakota have these magnificent interstates with no one on them???

We contended with hoardes of 18 wheelers and every imaginable recreational vehicle being towed or driven.

We slogged along on I-80 through Sacramento and over Donner Pass on our way to Sparks, Nevada. At one point the traffic was down to one lane each way and it was a very narrow lane with an ominous drop down to the Truckee River.

Our personal favorite was a big crew cab pickup pulling a toy hauler with FIVE mountain bikes strapped on the back with only 1 orange rope holding it all together.

Guess how we knew when we passed the state line into Nevada???

Right now it is after 8 pm and the temperature is 97o. The RV park has no trees and is beneath the landing pattern for the Reno airport. The Truckee River is nearby but I refuse to leave the A/C to go check it out. River-type persons are frequenting the banks and they are not compelling.

I'm sure it's all just the stress and strain of getting out of California. Excuse me while I hit the deck as I hear the next jet approaching! I wonder if a pinch of Quake-hold would keep my G&T from rattling off the table???