I started this a few weeks back, been a hard one to complete because I’ve come to the end of my yearlong retirement dream journey – not done with travel and adventure, but at the point I’m making a transition back to a more home-based life. I have a blog or two left in me – as I write this, I am sitting in an RV Park in my home area/State of Oregon. My offer on a new home has been accepted and I’m knee deep in what one does when buying a home. The transition into a home without wheels has begun – but I’ll save that for later. For now, here is the story of the final weeks of my second cross-country trip in one year:

There was something sad about a national park closing down for the season.  Sat in my camp in Colter Bay in Teton National Forest where the store, gift shop, restaurant and campgrounds all closed at 11 one morning.  I think my decision to speed up my trip was a wise one not only for the closures, but because snow was predicted for the Yellowstone/Teton area a few days after I left.   And in the week after I got back, a little over 2 weeks ago, snow fell in the Oregon pass I had traveled on my final day.

So, let’s catch up on where I’ve been recently – and another first in my life! 

Jackson/Jackson Hole, Wyoming

After the long drive across Wyoming, where I met a very nice, small-town cop, I arrived in Jackson Hole.  I got a great, but spendy, RV Park within an easy walking mile of downtown.  It had the resort feel too it, could have used the pool and hot tub on the property at the hotel, but never got around to it.   I spent the first day walking into and around the town square with antler arches at all 4 entrances (landmark).  Jackson Hole was a celebrity hot spot for a while; the ski hill is at the edge of downtown – stars came to buy cowboy boots and rent the luxurious houses at one time (may still have a few who still do)

The following day, I went solo into downtown to browse shops and have a drink.  Yes, it was an expensive place to shop but found a $15 rack in one shop and bought a long sleeve t-shirt.  Since the “beautiful tariffs” have been put in place, I’ve seen prices for souvenirs double in most cases.  Most of these items are made in Indonesian, Mexico or China.  For instance, when I started my journey, a t-shirt or sale was $9.99, now $15 the cheapest I found.  And then when I got to the Tetons, where the average price for a national park logo “T” was over  $35 in this park.

But back to Jackson Hole where I visited the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar and had a Huckleberry Vodka Mule (or two).  Was a good drink, and the décor was interesting – all the bar seats were saddles.  Fun, but I chose a table as I watched the action – which was pretty minimal, mostly older tourist like me doing late season travelling.  At least I can say I was there.  I have memories from a trip here years ago, when my daughter and my niece, both 15 and doing our laundry in town.  Think I’ve got photos of us under the arches – I’ll have to look for them when I get home – and compare them to pics of Audy and I poising under the antlers too. Was a relaxing 2 days/3 nights – one of those “done that, been there” experiences.

The Tetons National Park

It was warm and sunny when I pulled in on September 27 and progressed to high clouds the next day.  Since most of the park has closed down, I took walks around the deserted park.  I left for a nice stroll through the large tent campground adjacent to the RV park, but it was a ghost town, eerie without people.  After doing one of the loops, I realized without the hustle and bustle of happy campers, it would soon be a target for scavenging bears.  I walked with a little bell and tapped my walking stick , talking to Audy frequently but just decided I didn’t want to be the first to spot a bear in that campground.  We then followed the road over to the picnic ground which had beach access, but no dogs allowed.  I’d noticed that most of the park’s rangers and staff were involved in putting things away, so I took Audy down to put his feet in Jackson Lake.  I also picked up a couple of rocks for my collection.  (I took the one path that didn’t have a no dog posting – just to keep my transgression honest – wink, wink.)

While on the beach I had visions of my daughter and my niece, as goofy 15-year-olds, playing in the extremely cold water.  Young ladies in their teenage prime, cute in their cut-offs and bikini tops.  I could see it as if it was in front of me.  How I miss those days as their mother/aunt!  And I remember the storm that caused us to abandon camp a day early when I was here that time – extreme thunder, lightning and large hail that had me running to prepare the back of my Forerunner, The Silver Bullet, and then yelling for them to grab their pillows and sleeping bags and run like hell to the car.  It was simultaneous flashes and boom overhead, and the tent was already soaked. The next day, in the continued deluge, we packed up very wet belongings and headed south to find a drier spot.  We were already on our way south to Colorado and did find a sunnier spot to camp.

There is a drought here, snow on the peaks is limited to relatively small glaciers.  I think in my prior trips here, mid-summer, the peaks have always been covered with snow.  And the lake is low, very low.  The boat slips were empty and the island sat high on rings of sculptured dirt. Signs of fall, park closing and lack of rainfall.  Transitioning seasons, I can relate.

I remember another trip here, been trying to place it perhaps 15-17 years ago?  One where I brought my oldest grandson for a family reunion with my beloved family from Wisconsin.  As many of us as could make it gathered over a long weekend and enjoyed meals, happy hour and music for a few days.  This was Mom’s family, who I just visited in Wisconsin on this trip.  Some of us tent camped, others stayed in the cabins here.  Walked through the now closed for the season cabin area, thinking about the family who stayed there. It all looked the same, just void of life.

I thought I’d try to find the campsites where we gathered – can you say futile effort?  I did a loop the night before it closed with no luck.  It looks like the sites have been mostly reconfigured with changes to parking.  I looked for the collection of stacked wood, that became a fort for my grandson, nephews and grand nephews. These logs became their major attraction, so much so that when we returned to camp one afternoon they were dismayed to find other children had confiscated their territory – and they excitedly told us we’d been evaded by the Chinese! (the language they thought the other children were speaking).  Well, it turns out they were French and speaking French (we got a laugh out of it).  And my cousin Mike, ever the peace maker, went with the boys and negotiated a peace treaty.  The boys and their “Chinese” equivalents played happily together using signals and gestures with their new friends for the rest of the day (plus the French speaking children also spoke some English)  It shows how accepting children can be once they lose the taught  mental models of “different” that society instills in them.

What I also remember is all of those, Mom and Dad, uncles and aunts, cousins, siblings and their children, grandchildren, who gathered for a few days to celebrate our connection. I miss many of them who have now passed, especially Mom and Dad, and can only hope that in my future, there will be more camping and celebrations of US with my loved ones.

Yellowstone – Geysers, Buffalo and End of Season Shopping

Once you leave the Tetons, unless you head south, you travel through Yellowstone.  I hoped that this portion of the trip would be where  I finally saw a moose.  Here’s what I figured out.  There are probably only a handful of moose left in the USA, which they move around a lot – they probably have their own jet – and those moose make guest appearances in the Tetons, Yellowstone, Adirondacks and Maine.  They put up road signs to warn you about moose, but none seem to be around.  I came upon perhaps a staged event in the Tetons, cars parked wonky, the rangers practicing crowd management skills and gesturing aggressively to keep my big rig moving, but I never got to see the alleged moose in the little swampy area. May have been a cardboard cutout, if the moose where in Maine where I last saw the road signs?  Driving a larger vehicle through people being stupid takes your full attention. So, end result, never saw a moose – which means I absolutely have to continue my adventures until I do. (Okay, had a close encounter with a moose and her calf years ago, while visiting Denali National Park in Alaska, but don’t have the coffee cup or t-shirt to prove it.)

So back to Yellowstone – well, Old Faithful is showing his age.  Forgetting to be reliable mostly, or at least really slow at responding and the eruptions not quite where they used to be (the first and second things to go…)  First, I  walked with Audy and sat for 20 minutes with a bunch of other people just staring at a steam vent.  Nothing. After walking a little more, fairly restricted since dogs are no longer allowed on the paths, I put Audy back in the rig and went to get something to eat, get my National Park passport stamped and generally walk around that area of the park some more.  It was in the Visitor Center where a next possible eruption was posted, so got a burger and headed back to sit and wait.  And it actually happened!  Not as grand, high or wonderous as I remembered, but still got that thrill of seeing Mother Nature blowing off some steam.  When I visited this park as a teenager in the 1970s, Old Faithful was going off every 10 minutes or so – shows how long ago that was.

After spending most of the day in the park, I drove out to find, as I remembered, it was impossible to stop at any of the sights on the way through the park because one 1) there was no RV parking available or 2) there was no RV parking allowed.  This basically made up my mind that there would be little reason to return the following day.  I’d been to Yellowstone a number of times and as I had felt in the Tetons, this was a park full of ghosts and memories, and it felt like I should have family and friends with me. 

The next day was chilly, dug out my lightweight coat, sweatshirts, hat and gloves, unplugged Wandering Spirit from her water, electric and sewage restraints and drove into the nearby town of West Yellowstone.  Had a great breakfast and found some fantastic deals at the tourist shops along the main drag, including a great buy on a warmer winter jacket with a Yellowstone emblem.  Sweet. My wardrobe is now complete with souvenir clothing for all seasons.

Since I also hadn’t seen any bears, I went to the Bear and Wolf Center attraction and was able to see both in their domestic situation.  Got a little bear yoga action with one of the grizzlies and saw a few pacing wolves.  Wasn’t how I’d like to see them, but my admission fee helps with the center’s efforts.

When I left West Yellowstone KOA the next morning, the entrance gate was closed.  The cabins and rec room were already boarded up when I arrived.  Snow was predicted in a few days.  It was time to head home.  I hit an overnight stop in Idaho and spent my first Oregon reentry night at Farewell Bend State Park.  Another memory, this park on the Snake River was also part of my family’s travel back in 1968.  It was here that my older sister and I, who were primping in the tent, were joined by a bat.  This time, my camping experience was shared with seasonal fisherman and other overnighters.  Yes, maybe picked up a few flies in the rig, but nothing as drama causing as a bat in our hair.

I spent my first weekend in Bend, Oregon and suddenly felt weary, in need of decompression.  Both from working through the emotions of endings and from driving across the country. This layover was fairly low key, with the highlight of spending one afternoon with a good friend from work.  Drinking wine, lemon drops and catching up on life in general.  Those are the moments I carry with me into my transition, my next chapter.

Home In Progress and Small-Town Cops

And so, I am home – almost.  I’m in a good place, for in less than 2 weeks I finalize my pre-approval, looked at homes in the forested community where I want to live, selected a great investment and initiated an offer and had it accepted on a great home.  Yes, I’m ready to move out of my cozy home and start the next phase.  I paid off the Wandering Spirit and will decide how much longer I will hold onto her after I’ve settled into my new home. 

I had a dream.  I planned and saved for it.  And over this first year of “Sandy’s Retirement Adventures” I drove 23,193 miles.  I stayed at 124 RV parks, state parks, national parks and with Harvest Hosts. I visited 34 national parks or monuments. I discovered places I didn’t know existed and I met people I wouldn’t have otherwise known. And a black goldendoodle named Audy-wee and a 14-year-old black cat named Spirit were with me every step of the way.

I saw the east coast from as far south as Key Largo and as far north as Arcadia National Park.  I saw deserts, oceans, bayous, waterfalls, hills called mountains back east, causeways,  and crossed the continental divide multiple times. There is so much more, that I’ve forgotten some of it already – only to have an image flash in my mind to which I respond “oh yeah” with a smile on my face.  I did that.  Been there.  And gonna do some more of it as long as I can. Oh yeah. 😊

Oh, and that lifetime “first” and my meeting a small-town cop? Got my first speeding ticket ever!  71 years old, 55 years of driving and never having a ticket.  For what?  Going 6 miles over the speed limit on the outskirts of town (36 in a 30).  I had pulled out of gas station, and just paced the car in front of me, for maybe a mile, and suddenly lights behind me.  Nice officer who said it was a “public safety issue” but admitted that many people tend to pick up speed in that area (no visible speed signs that I saw) but in reality, this was a warning situation, but I guess if that $139 helps them with this year’s Christmas party, then so be it. (not) Yep, Grandma driving an RV going a little over the speed limit is right up there with being a convicted felon I guess. Anyway, it was a predictable scenario, small town, speed trap, one car has local plates, the other is out of state – so offer a “reduced ticket” that could be paid online, rather than coming back for a court hearing. Classic – I would say Barney Fife from the Andy Griffin show, but the trooper was actually kind of cute, and friendly. Such are adventures – experiencing new things! 😊

Fall is coming. Among the pines here in the Black Hills of South Dakota, there are quaking aspens already in their golden glory.  I’ve already spent one night in sweats and a winter cap in front of the campfire – I’ve been blessed enough to travel through all four seasons this year, and although my goal is to get home before any snow hits, I’m loving the fall experience.

I’m sitting in unbelievable beauty of rugged mountains, large piles of boulders, and pines and feeling the fall breezes – all while doing my laundry!  I see a storm rolling in, darker clouds approaching from the west I believe and is that thunder I can hear in the distance?  Tomorrow, I will move further west into Wyoming, for my final national parks before home.   Both nostalgic about this year’s adventures, these journeys and excited about what the next phase will look like. And happy about seeing the people important to me, my daughter and her husband, my grandsons, my siblings and my friends again soon.

Been 71 for a week now and remember where I was a year ago.  In my final weeks of “employment”, holding myself back a little from packing too soon and looking forward to my big 70^th birthday/retirement party. What a difference a year makes!  I’m now almost finished with my year of adventures (but not my adventures or journeys), and putting my plans in reverse – finding a place to buy and live (hopefully), getting everything out of storage and finding out what that phase of my life looks like.  By the way, have I ever mentioned that I really don’t think about the work I used to do?

Here’s the update on my last few weeks.

Hospitality in Missouri

After leaving St. Louis, I travelled to my final Harvest Host stay with a military/law enforcement couple outside of Kansas City.  When they met, she’d just got out of the Navy, and I believe he was in the marines – she re-upped, they got married and then were stationed together in Honolulu!  Not quite like Mom and Dad but reminds me of my parents.  He’d just retired as a police officer, and she was still working in Special Ops.  They were friendly, helpful and got me power for my AC, since it was 97 degrees.  They had RV’d for years and decided to make their rural property, surrounded by cornfields, a haven for the boon dockers.  They didn’t farm or brew anything, just opened their land for a few RVs to park for the night as needed, and didn’t request anything but accepted donations if you were so inclined (I was).

They set up a small room in their huge garage/shop with AC, a huge video library, couches and snacks for boondockers to escape heat. They also had a significant collection in their sharing library – I left 4, took 3.  And something I’d never seen before, they had a bathroom with shower for their guests to use!  Amazing.  Best of all, they invited me to coffee the next morning next to their pool and large goldfish pond where we swapped stories – turns out HR and law enforcement have a few things in common. Both professions find themselves dealing with people in “what were they thinking” situations. Of course, I would never claim we are in the same profession – our people in blue put themselves in harm’s way as part of their daily job, and I give my respect to them.     We laughed for a while until it was time for me to move on. I left with new friends and received my first Halloween decoration, a little scarecrow, for my rig thanks to Tracy.

The lost innocence of Sioux Falls

Upon leaving my new friends, I took the hosts advice and stopped in Sioux Falls (the city), to see Sioux Falls (the water) and was glad I did.  This was another creation of mother earth worth seeing – water rushing over plateaus of slate rock in multiple stages.  Pretty awesome, but something in my heart felt off about the location in the middle of the city.  The history of the falls was that industry had built up around it to harness the power of the falls.  So, you have this wonderous work of nature surrounded by ugly brick buildings, many now abandoned – it seems like the falls are misplaced.  They should be running through a canyon, or the badlands and be wild and free from the city park that surrounds them.  Glad I saw them anyway.

My drive across South Dakota was basically covering miles, to get across the country to the national parks I wanted to visit.  However, there was a lot of nostalgia in the journey.   I believe it was in this state, during the infamous 1968 family trip across country in my youth that we camped at the edge of a cornfield for a night.  Back then, as long as we weren’t hippies, (well, perhaps my sister and I were wanna be’s) no farmer took offense to a family of 7 settling in for the night (even if a couple of ears of corn may have contributed to the feast of hot dogs and beans my mom generally served while camping).

One thing I loved about this state was the billboards – mile after mile of quirky boards enticing one to visit an attraction, dinosaur park or diner, throw backs to the 1950’s-60s when a navigation was called “road map” and perusing these monstrous advertisements was the equivalent of an internet search for “things to do in South Dakota”.  Followed one from Sioux City to the town of Wall where you came out of the Badlands, but due to time bypassed the ‘1880’ town and the movie set of Dances with Wolves (one of my favorite movies). I loved the billboard that told me the Mexican food was so good, Trump would build a wall around it! Or the fact that about a dozen signs for Firehouse Brewery had old fire engines sitting under them (with the claim that Rachel Ray loved their brews).

Coming Home to the Badlands

Although I had planned my trip through Missouri and South Dakota as basically long drives and overnight stops, when I realized how easy it was to get to Badlands National, there was no way to not go.  Spending a good few hours there was very doable with the drive the next day.  Once I saw the Badlands, I was immediately put into my spiritual place of connecting with the earth because these lands weren’t bad at all!  Instead, they were lesser reflections of the canyons of Utah, the painted hills of Oregon and/or the Petrified Forest in Arizona.  Perhaps not a grand and colorful as Zion, Bryce or Canyon Lands National Parks – but certainly familiar and welcoming me home to what I love: the art that is earth.  It was a great drive that ended with a herd of buffaloes hanging out by the exit on the other end of the drive.  Apparently, the National Park sign is a favorite scratching post for these huge beings.

The drive ended in the well-advertised “Wall Drug” in Wall, SD.  It had been advertised as still having a 5-cent cup of coffee – which was so elusive I never found where to get that drink!  Instead, I found a huge indoor mall of tourist shops – and a couple of odd attractions like a huge carved Jackalope?  But never that nickel coffee.  Hmm.  But it was fun to follow the signs, even if they only lead to a huge tourist trap.  Of course, being a lover of these weird types of places, I found some bargains on the last round of T-shirts I’m buying for anyone ever! (yeah right, Grandma).

Mt. Rushmore, Crazy Horse and Reflection

My first view of Mt. Rushmore was from Keystone, SD where I spent my first night in the area.  Loved the location, but not the cost – so I limited my stay to one night.  And since it was only a short walk to the little downtown area, I spent that evening having the best mojitos ever (have to remember to order them more often!), a great steak dinner (my second and enhanced birthday meal) and then browsed the tourist shops for deals (didn’t find any). 

The next day, I packed up and moved onto the Mt. Rushmore monument.  Awesome as I remembered since my visit here in 1968. Four men who understood democracy and did a lot for this nation – they understood the dangers one man could present our fragile democracy but didn’t envision the things that needed to be in law to protect us (they believed only honest men with the country’s best interest at heart would seek the office of presidency, if they had only known – we need a clause that makes it illegal for a felon to run for the highest office in the land).  I reflected a lot on the beliefs of men like our founding fathers who were firm in their philosophies about our freedom and liberties embedded in “we the people”.  And Abe, who I met before on this trip – his understanding of all men created equal meant all men, period.  Our first amendment is about our right to freedom of speech, Thomas Jefferson was big on this because he, along with the other founding fathers were fed up with a tyrant, a king not allowing their voices to be heard.

I’ve only visited two National Parks that were about our democracy on this trip, and I feel good about the ones I chose to visit.  I’m hoping seeing these monuments will refresh my belief that our democracy will survive the current threats.  You may not see the current situation as I do – and I respect your first amendment right to think and express yourself differently.  I hope you respect mine.  For that very concept is under attack.

Since the area is about carving huge heads into mountains, I also visited the Crazy Horse Memorial – a work in progress for the last 80 plus years, I think.  The story of this monument is amazing, a sculptor’s dedication to honoring the Native Americans who were willing to share their land only to have it taken from them brutally and with broken promises.  It is part of our history; we can’t deny it. Accepting what happened is a way to begin healing.  As one chief said, paraphrased, the only promise the white man kept was the promise to take our land.  I feel an ancient sadness in me when I think of what our nation has done to people over the years. Maybe what we are seeing today is an extension of hate, greed, and bias that we never matured out of as a country.

I listened to the talk by a Lakota woman and read about the Native American belief in white buffalo calves, I learned that some indigenous cultures have spiritual beliefs I share.  The Lakota (as well as other plains nations) believe we are all children of the same creator, and we come in different colors.  I believe we are all part of the same universe, come from the same connection in a variety of shapes, colors, abilities and languages.  They also believe that children are born to love one another, hate is taught. There is a Lakota prophecy that states the world will find peace when children of all colors come together and create it.   They also believe that a white buffalo calf is a miracle to help us understand that all colors come from the same place.  Apparently, a white buffalo calf will change color many times before coming into the full darker brown coloration of the adult buffalo to show us that we carry all colors within us. What a beautiful thought.

This monument is the result of a long and trustful relationship between the son of immigrants, Korczak Ziolkowski, his wife Ruth and Chief Standing Bear, Lakota nation. The Oglala Lakota Chief Tasunke Witco, Crazy Horse, was selected by a council of chiefs for the monument because he was the final holdout refusing to sign treaties. He finally brought his people to the reservation to keep them from starving and was killed shortly thereafter. As Chief Standing Bear stated about the reason for the memorial, “My fellow chiefs and I would like the white man to know that the red man had great leaders also.” 

We could use some great leaders today, like any of the five men carved into stone I visited on this journey.  Or any of the great women and men throughout history who have or are speaking out against the disregard of our constitution and attempts to destroy our democracy.  I love my country, and I am a patriot ready to stand up for her.  I just accept we have been imperfect as a nation as we are as individuals.  At different times in mankind’s history, different stories have been told to justify mistreatment and disrespect for others based on insignificant human differences.  The stories don’t make the actions right, the mindset that chose to believe them did a lot of harm to others.  I find it sad that there are still so many who haven’t matured enough to question those hateful narratives.   My unconditional love for my country means I am proud of the phenomenal, amazing and progressive things my nation has done while feeling the burden of sadness for the terrible, inhumane mistakes we have made.  

The story we are living today, the one where a person, a group of people become authoritarian and blame all of society’s problems on the marginalized populations isn’t a new story. It’s a tired, repeated old narrative so much so that the manual written for today’s regime was taken from the Nazi playbook of not so long ago.   It’s one book I support banning, as long as we remain aware of the cautionary tale that teaching hate to our young never results in peace or solves problems.

 We need to let our children continue to love, to teach them love instead of hatred.  As Crosby, Stills and Nash once sang “Teach your children well, their fathers hell did slowly go by.  Feed them on your dreams…”. We can’t just erase the bad segments of our shared existence – the Hitler’s, the Trump’s, the Mussolini’s, slavery and the Trail of Tears –  we need to understand these realities if we are ever going to get past these reoccurring instances of dishonest, hateful, hurtful, power and control loving men rising to power.  It has to stop.

For now, I can only hope we can return to the role of a compassionate, imperfect, caring, kind and strong world leader we were striving to be.  Namaste

I’m starting this blog draft in the sunshine, on a slow-moving creek in Natural Bridge State Park, Kentucky.  This part of the trip, from Connecticut to St. Louis has been more gentle, less exciting than other times in my adventures – but I do believe everything in life has a purpose, and this is part of a transition for me.  I will turn 71 (may have already done that by the time this is posted) at a casino in St. Louis and soon will be home. My plan for that birthday is to have a great steak dinner and win a million or two!

My journey home will end sooner than anticipated, with my arrival back in Oregon in early October.  Once I started researching the last few weeks of my journey, I discovered that my final national parks, Teton and Yellowstone, will be shutting down for the winter by late September/early October. In fact, it looks like my ability to camp in Yellowstone is nil, since the campgrounds will be all closed when I get there.

But this time, as I mentioned, feels like a transition for me.  I still love my travels but find myself thinking more and more about settling in (but not settling down) in my own home, decorating it with my memories both from storage and from this journey and preparing for the holiday season.  I have my eyes set on a community where I’d like to live, have transferred money from retirement savings to money market for a down payment and had my daughter reach out to her real estate agent who will help me, hopefully, secure the home of my dreams.  AND I’ve already given thought about next year’s travels, I have a good friend who  would love an adventure, and I have some ideas on how we can make that happen. Camping with family.  A lot of big birthday celebrations next year too, two 50^ths, one 60^th, one 70^th, one 65^th – what am I missing?

So, here’s some highlights of my trip from the Atlantic to the Midwest.

A Discussion with Lincoln, Visit to an Amish Tourist Trap and Oil Change – Pennsylvania

After leaving Connecticut, I headed straight for Harrisburg, PA for my oil change.  I stayed a night at the RV Park at Herseyland, which looks like a great place for families during the sweet season when the amusement park is open all week and tours of where the famous chocolates are made are the thing to do.  Nice Park, but what I can’t figure out is why, with 95% of the park empty, they put me right next to, more like right on top of the tent camper right next to me?  One space over would have been a better option.   The silent monk, as I came to name him, had pitched his very large tent within inches of my gravel pad and literally right next to the hook-ups.  He sat in his tent reading while I tried to hook up without touching his tent and backed the Wandering Spirit as far over to the right side of the pad as possible so I wouldn’t put my slide out over his tent.  He never flinched while I went through my ministrations for the night, but I always had a sense he was right there.

Why the silent monk?  I said hello, he never acknowledged me.  He had a top knot braid, wore some type of robe/MJ Hammer pants and sandals.  Even worse, he never spoke to Audy who was trying to get his attention.  Rajineeshees? Nah, he didn’t ask for money.  Vow of silence? Perhaps, or he was pissed that I entered his space.  Didn’t sense any harm from him.  Just close quarters, and he appeared to be meditating, praying most of the time.  And, just before bedtime, he serenaded me with his flute practice…perhaps he’d been sent out of the group because of his skill level, he seemed to be working hard on getting his notes right.

The next day, I got up early and made it to the local Camping World, dodging a very bad direction from the navigation system.  I suddenly found myself facing a very narrow and rounded rock wall tunnel that was only 11 ft 7 inches – in the very middle of this two-way traffic route. My rig is 11 ft.  Needless to say, I didn’t attempt it but reported it to the RV Life navigation team, who responded via email stating that my description was kind at best and they had blocked this route!  Anyway, normal oil change and then on to explore before my overnight stop in Gettysburg.

So, I found the Amish House and Farm in the Lancaster House, conveniently located behind a Target and next to a PetSmart. Yep, as weird as it sounds this was an original Amish farm at one point and is still run by the Amish community.  Very friendly people who allowed pets to come along. Audy and I wandered the farm, meeting farm animals – horses, pigs, goats, even an Alpaca.  He smelled and showed little interest in most of them.  He practiced driving a horse and buggy (didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t a real horse).  So, nice little tourist stop – Audy gave the ladies a laugh in the store when he chose and started walking away with a stuffed animal (no, we did not buy it – too expensive to be a 15-minute toy for him.)

The next morning, we headed to Gettysburg National Military Park.  I have purposefully avoided attractions that celebrate war or religion, lots of personal feelings about how they are impacting today’s challenges and regardless of purpose of war, I just can’t celebrate the opposite of peace.  But this was a nice park, and if you are interested in the history of the civil war, absolutely recommend a visit here.  Many people wearing their veteran’s hats, prior military experience – and I absolutely honor what our veterans have done in service to our nation. 

After getting some coffee, I sat by a statute of Abe and shared my thoughts, telepathically.  I wondered how he and our forefathers would feel about this administration and the obvious destruction of our democracy and disregard for our constitution.  I wondered how he would feel about these cruel immigration attacks where people are rounded up based on skin color, language and by the low-paying work they do.  How he would feel by watching this man single-handedly destroying relationships with our allies, trying – unsuccessfully – to align our country with other dictators in this would while ruining our economy.  How would Abe, George, Thomas and a whole group of men who created and improved this country react to this fascist authoritarian turning the White House into a gaudy, gilded palace for a king?

And most of all, I asked Abe, how would you compare your need to turn the military against our southern states, our citizens to preserve the union to Trump’s unprovoked sending the National Guard and Military forces in major cities without cause?  All I could sense within me was disgust, disharmony, anger and sadness that we may be losing this country to the authors of a nazi-type document and a demented, narcistic man who has successfully ensured that all branches of our government are loyal to him.  A man and his regime who is systematically dismantling our government, running it with incompetence and replacing military officers with loyalist so that they will act on his illegal commands.  Abe didn’t have answer for me except to continue to resist, find the emerging leaders to oppose him and fight like our lives depended upon it.  This great American experiment can’t fail; the Civil War was a test to our democracy – we are now living the threat to our democracy.  Yes, I am being political this morning – but I felt moved by the site where the Gettysburg address was given and can’t shake my worry, fear about what is going down in these United States of America.

River Songs – Shenandoah and The Red River Valley

There was a point in my childhood where songs of leaving rivers behind held a place in my heart.  Was it the longing for something loved left behind?  Was it that feeling of romantic love unfulfilled showing early awareness without understanding in my young spirit?  Either way – lyrics like “from this valley they say you are leaving, we will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile…for remember that Red River Valley, and the one who loved you so true” or “Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you, roll away you rolling river” brough emotions to me in my first decade of life.  So not as a quest, but more one of acknowledgement I spent some time in both Shenandoah National Park and at the edge of the Red River Valley.

After a day or so in Shenandoah, which was a great park – just need to be an avid hiker willing to go out into the wilderness to see the waterfalls, I moved a couple of state parks in West Virginia and Kentucky.  Lots of long walks for Audy and me but staying fairly close to the camping area.

In West Virginia, at a state park reached after many narrow, country hillside roads, I sat and planned the rest of my trip.  It was a bit gloomy, rainy and actually turned on my heater for a while during this stay.  Upon leaving, I stopped by one of the New Gorge Visitor Centers to stamp another entry in my NP passport.  From there to Natural Bridge Campground state park in Kentucky where I never hiked to the natural bridge because dogs weren’t allowed on the path and it’s not an uphill climb I’d do alone.  Instead, I took 300 steps up the mountain to see the lodge and paid for it in the next few days.  Nice stop, where I started this blog but bummed about not taking the hike.  Getting to my campsite was a challenge – and when I saw what I had to do, I was tired and had thoughts of asking for a different site.  But I pulled it together and did a tight turn around, then backed 500 ft down the road and maneuvered into my site around the trees.

After another relaxing day here, I headed to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. Loved this place – but here’s where that stair climbing caught up with me.  I didn’t do a cave tour and didn’t do any of the easily accessible hikes from the campground (except one) – I pulled or strained a muscle in my derriere/hip and lost a lot of sleep my first night here due to the pain.  Not a wimp and usually don’t like to complain but was wondering if I’d done something serious until 2 am I remembered I had some salonpas patches with me.  I slapped as many of those little babies on me as I could – and they helped!  I got some sleep and the next morning I was stiff, sore but could manage it.  I stretched and finally later in the day, walked slowly over to the historic entrance to the cave. At least there was that!

Vinters come in all shapes and sizes – Spirit makes a break for it again!

In my journey from Mammoth Cave to St. Louis, I made two stops.  My final Harvest Host vineyards, in Indiana, where a large but gentle man named Wilbur, who spoke like Gomer Pyle gave me a personal tasting of his wines, rums and vodkas while sharing the stories of each tasting as well as a master in Napa.  Interesting fellow, teaches at the local college, does woodworking (showed me the design for his poinsettia serving board he’s making to sell) and runs his vineyard and distillery business as well.  Bought some of his cinnamon rum (delish!) and a red wine and watched a colorful sunset from the grassy field where I boondocked for the night.  Will miss these magical visits to the Harvest Hosts.

Then, at my final stop before St. Louis, it was 97 degrees when I arrived.  I was rushing to get the power going to quickly get the AC on in the rig and came back from the hook-up side to find the screen door hadn’t latched when I came out, and both Spirit and Audy-wee were standing outside looking perplexed.  I quickly leashed Audy but spent the next 20 plus minutes playing cat and mouse with Spirit – with him taking the mouse role. He’d let me get within inches and then he’d run off. He continued to respond to me during this chase, where I was getting grass cuts on my legs.  Then suddenly he went silent.  We were by the little catch and release pond in the middle of this campground, and I lost sight of him too.  The manager came by and helped me look, but nothing.  I felt devasted – couldn’t not believe I might loose my cat in Illinois. 

After trying to relax for a while, I took Audy for a walk, calling Spirit the whole time.  When we got back, I saw him a site or so over from me, by the camp road.  I called; he moved in my direction and then stopped.  I went in to get the carrier and when I came out, he was gone.  I then noticed a pipe running under the road, and sure enough he was in it – in the middle of it, out of reach from either side.  With help from my neighbors and the camp manager, we caught him, and he’s not shown interest in the door again since.  It was a stressful 5 hours, and yes, I shed a few tears but didn’t give up hope.  We are all going to finish this journey together. 

Meet Me in St. Louis – Happy 71^st Birthday!

And so, I have made it to St. Louis.  It’s Monday, and the nice restaurant is closed.  The slots are tight in the casino.  Even so, I managed to have a fairly good steak in the sports bar and after putting about $80 in, when I won $55 and some change, I cashed it out and called it a night.  Decided to get this blog post up.  Bummer, thought for sure that they would have lit up the Arch for me!  I’m actually on the Illinois side of St. Louis and it dawned on me earlier, that I’m spending my birthday in the state I was born – yep, don’t feel a real connection to this state but 71 years ago this spirit emerged at Great Lakes Naval Hospital outside of Chicago.  Don’t have much memory of it, since we left there soon after my brother came along 18 months later.

Now, with three weeks left of this journey I will spend the next 4 days in travel mode through Missouri, Iowa and Nebraska and through South Dakota until I get to Mt. Rushmore, the Badlands and general area.  This is where I found I could compress my trip to get west in time to enjoy this area and the Tetons, Jackson Hole and Yellowstone before the weather gets bad (fingers crossed).  This brings me back to Oregon almost two weeks earlier than I thought!  Back home by October 7^th it looks like.  Doesn’t seem real – but I guess its true.  And the next chapter of my life is awaiting my return.  I already know it includes more travel😊 Namaste

My trip from Niagara Falls to Maine was in stays in a few differently privately owned campgrounds.  Most stops were only overnight but made the experience so much more pleasant to be in a forest with campfire smoke drifting about.  This KOA in Connecticut is also set up as a campground, with all tent camping spots full. The downside of my RV spot is that it has the view of houses in the suburban neighborhood next door. It’s an odd juxtaposition, a campground, across the street from a state park with hiking trails to the beach, woods on one side and new houses on the other.  I was able to get in a 5-mile hike along the tidal marshes to the beach the other day; then sat and watched a family fishing for crabs with chicken drumsticks and nets. I also got some time in the little village of Niantic, CT.

The other thing about these types of parks, there is a heavy use of “seasonal” spaces where people rent the spot for months and leave their RVs full-time for weekend or holiday use.  I would say most parks have 50-75% of their spaces filled as seasonal rentals – although I see a number of set ups that are probably used year-round as well.  People tend to attach decks, plant and care for yards and plantings, have outdoor structures with nice lawn furniture and in general decorate their places festively – I guess these places have become the new cabin villages of the old days. Not a bad idea.

On my way through Vermont, I stopped at a family run maple processing plant.  When I say family, run – I got a tour of the place by the man whose family had run the business since 1761!  Yes, that’s right, his family learned how to tap maple trees from the indigenous peoples who were willing to share their knowledge and the land with people who might not have survived the winter if they didn’t.  Sad how we never learned to respect their ways or reciprocate on their generosity.  Maybe they should have built a wall to stop all the illegal immigrants invading from Europe! (I might add, this family honors and respects their teachers in the history of their maple business)

Maine – Acadia National Park and BaaHaaBa

Love the Maine accent, in which Bar Harbor is pronounced “baahaaba” and they sell t-shirts to prove it. Another great private RV Campground, rustic but right on the very tidal Thompson Bay.  And a great free shuttle system to get you to and around Acadia National Park and the local villages on the island, with Bar Harbor being the most popular town for tourists.  Don’t know why, but I actually like kitschy tourist traps with restaurant options and souvenir shops – so spent a day there.  My day started with coffee and a donut in the park at the bay front, where I watched the fog roll in over the sail boats, ferries and other sea-going vessels, yachts for the wealthy and cruise boats for the tourists. Great day there, had the infamous lobster roll and clam chowder in a dish called a “mini-bake” that included a blueberry tart (sweet!).  Tried the Bar Harbor Iced Tea, made with blueberry vodka, but can’t say it was the highlight of the meal.

I heard a local say to a tourist, we went from summer to autumn overnight.  And it’s a welcome change.  Definitely have seen cooler temps in the evening now, nice sleeping weather.  And ever so slightly yellowing, reding of the tips of the leaves as I drive through the deciduous forest in the New England states. I’ll miss the fall foliage that this part of the nation is famous for, but staying would risk hitting the snowfall out west during my final weeks of this trip.

I spent a day in Acadia NP, a beautiful park at the furthest northeast corner of the USA.  Once again, I loved the shuttle system that allowed me to get on/off at the various locations in the park – I got to see the clear blue Atlantic Waters, which were sky blue in the little cove called Sand Beach.  I watched the waves break, shooting straight up at Thunder Hole where the ocean has carved little crevices in the rocks.  I put my feet in the Atlantic here, and it was cold.  And yet people were swimming in it (despite the warnings of rip tides related to the recently departed Hurricane Erin). Wonderful place to visit, glad I put another stamp in my National Park passport book to show I was here.

A Night in Another Vineyard – Flag Hill Distillery

It’s been a while since I boon-docked, and I’m so glad I stopped at this place in New Hampshire. This distillery dates back to the 1700 and was the first distellery to reopen in the state after Prohibition ended. Kayla, the tasting room manager, was gracious and since they also distill vodka, rum and other spirits, she set me up with a flight of my choices even though they were closing in a few minutes.  Loved The Crescent wine and Spiced Rum, so bought two of the first and one of the other.  After enjoying a glass with my personal selections of salami, ham and cheese from my fridge, I poured another glass and Audy and I walked over a mile on their property, which had self-guided tour markers to help you understand the different vines and grains they grow.  Perfect evening all around in the countryside of this small state.

Coming Home to Say Goodbye, Rhode Island

This visit and writing about it is emotional for me.  From the ages of 5 through 8, 1^st grade through 3^rd grade, I lived on Narragansett Bay in East Greenwich, Rhode Island.  I’ve written about this place, and if you’ve ever spent time with me, I’ve probably talked about this idealistic, novel-worthy part of my life.  The little red brick house, my first best friend Roberta, the running and playing on the little beach and in the cornfield.  It was a part of my childhood so ingrained in me it comes to me in dreams and stories in my active brain.  I have loved two places in my live, this charming little piece of Rhode Island and my property, Copper Rise, in Woodland, WA (which I’ve grieved the loss of due to the 2008 recession).

When I left Rhode Island, I always knew I’d be back someday.  It took me 63 years, but I made it. Yes, it has changed – the cornfield is now houses, most of them already decades old.  And the rock jetty is now lined with townhouses and homes. But the little beach, Sandy Point, is still there – about ¼ mile long if that.  Gone is the little ice cream shop at the beach that sold candy and was only open during the summer. A three-story white house lives there now.  Gone are the seasonal cottages that had been significantly damaged by a hurricane when I lived there.  But the essence, the ghosts of the days when only three families, maybe four, lived in the permanent houses year-round, in a world that was safe and innocent, where cars not belonging to our families were few and far between, is still tangible for me.  And there, holding those memories are four original houses – the Duchteviches (not sure of spelling) immediately next door, the Scott’s caddy corner across the street and the little red brick house (now with painted siding over the brick) are still standing.  My house and Roberta’s were rental homes that our large Navy families could afford.

I could visualize my childhood, and I could see the changes there at the same time. It felt more populated and constrained, the vastness of the fields missing. I felt relief in finally being there and sadness for what it had been.  After my visit on the first day, when I had lunch near the rock jetty we used to climb on and collected seashells, a learning, an awareness came over me.  I never got to say good-bye to this piece of my childhood that released my adventurous spirit and imagination more than any other experience I’ve had in life.

You see, a few months before my family transferred to San Diego, we moved into the big purple house since we now had my baby sister, Mandy, and needed more room. That was another part of my Rhode Island life – the big house with a tiny furnace in the basement that barely heated the house.  We often slept in front of a wood fire in the living room, our campouts as Mom called them.  But I digress, this move and having my heart broken over Roberta’s moving away before we did (Navy also transferred her father to San Diego), began my mourning over the loss of my childhood bliss. 

I think in my childish mind, I also thought we’d move back to the little red brick house, we’d return to the place where Roberta and the cornfields were just across the street, where we’d go to the beach with Mom and Dad to see the horseshoe crabs come ashore to lay eggs, and where Dad would go Qua hogging and we’d swim along, holding onto the wicker basket in the inner tube.  Perhaps I believed we’d once again live in the place where Roberta’s older sister Bonnie (no longer with us) and my older sister Wanda would give us rides on the old door in the “swamp” (a tidal marsh behind our house) until Mom would catch us, and we’d catch hell.  I never said good-bye, only thought I’ll be back.

And so, on the second day of my visit, I drove to that little beach and said goodbye.  I doubt I’ll ever be back; I carry the memories in my heart and have reconnected with my friend this year.  There is nothing for me there now, it is a different neighborhood where others, generations later, are living their bliss.  The red brick is hidden, but I like the updates they’ve made and the orange sunset color they’ve chosen for it.  The old back porch, my brother’s summer bedroom is now a formal addition to the house, with a deck on the back facing our swamp – or more appropriately, the tidal marsh surrounded now by tall marsh reeds.  I leave it to the people who will have never heard of the Barnes’ or the Scotts.  Maybe a relative of the Duchteviches lives in their equally upgraded home?  Who knows.  I came home to say good-bye, and although I cried as I drove away, I’m glad I went. 

On my way out, I stopped by Goddard State Park, 2 miles down the road, and visited the beach where I learned to swim.  Looks the same, and I wondered if they still run the swimming classes in the bay where graduation is being taken far offshore to jump out of the rowboat and swim in?  That’s the type of life it was in the early 1960s – before the end of innocence.

I also went to the head of Narragansett Bay, perhaps a place Mom and Dad might have taken us on a weekend drive, but I have no prior recollection of it. But now I know where the bay meets the ocean in this very special part of my life.

Unusual Campground Sights

I’m finishing on a light note, strange and unusual things in campgrounds.  First, in my current campground in Niantic, CT, there is a flock of 3 lovely old hens wandering around the place.  They show up for every new RV, check out the people, the rig and then move on.  They visited a moment this morning, but they were unsure about Audy and kept their distance.  They disappear during the day when the firetruck, yes, a firetruck, gives rides to the kids around the park blowing its very loud horn.  Then there was the place in Rhode Island – a phenomenal place, WawaLoam CG – huge pool, waterslide, miniature golf, the works!  But most interesting of all, there between RVs, on a generous plot, was a historic graveyard!  I took pictures to prove it.  No ghosts came around, but I do imagine they wandered the grounds at night amazed by all the new-fangled contraptions people live in these days!

I turned my eyes towards my home state now, with up to 2 more months on the road.  Many states to visit, and I’ve booked my journey through Pennsylvania (for an oil change), Virginia, West Virginia and Kentucky – I’m booked through September 15 at a casino in St. Louis.  My 71^st birthday!  Stay tuned for what is still to come😊

Namaste

Sitting at the entrance to the Adirondacks in Upstate New York, in a pleasant family-owned campground.  Road is close enough to hear, but not busy – except for the locals and the travelers stopping in at Granny’s, the ice cream shop out front.  This is a nice little wayside nestled among pines, seasonal trees and I think eastern hemlocks – a little deeper into this RVP, there are two small ponds with RVs circled around them and a walking trail.  And of course, had to indulge myself by having a decadent hot fudge sundae from Granny’s – and yes, it was a good as advertised with whip cream, peanut sprinkles and cherries on top!  I had a nice break from the KOA I left this morning.

I figured I’ve driven around 4800 miles so far on this trip, and since I last posted, I’ve visited more of the UP of Michigan, stayed at a farm and spent the weekend in Niagara Falls. Another destination spot, on the “got to see in my lifetime” list. So, let’s catch up so far -tomorrow I will spend a few days in the Adirondacks, before heading into Vermont and Maine.

Along Lake Michigan and through the UP

After leaving southern Wisconsin, I headed up the western coast of Lake Michigan.  Once again, I marvel at these inland oceans of fresh water.  My first stop, where I decompressed from the family immersion, was at a nice state park in Wisconsin.  I was a little disappointed to learn, after paying for my camp site when I registered online, that the state required another $34 fee in addition.  Don’t understand how the system works, but don’t understand paying for a campsite, but then having to pay a fee to enter the park to get to the campsite?  All that aside, it was a nice place, loved the campsite – set back in deep from the road and the dog beach was a walkable ½ mile away.  There was a lighthouse present at the beach, but not necessarily the scenic type – but took a picture anyway.  Here, both Audy and I got our feet wet in Great Lake #2.  Afterwards, I read that many of the beaches of Lake Michigan were closed due to bacteria – luckily this beach/park wasn’t on that list. 😊

From there I wandered up into the UP and camp 2 different places and in between I visited Pictured Rocks National Park on Lake Superior – beautiful!  The water was a turquoise blue you’d expect to find by a tropical island.  But here, in this part of the continent that tends to freeze over during the winter, was this crystal-clear shoreline with wonderful views.  And, they had a stamp for my NP passport!  After this stop, I felt my inner wandering spirit and sense of adventure completely re-energized and ready to go again.

I spent my last few days in St. Ignace where the rainy weather allowed me time to plan the rest of my visit eastward.  In Wisconsin, I’d take some time and plotted my journey to Niagara Falls, and this respite (even with some thundershowers), allowed me to research and book my adventures through upper New York state, Vermont, Maine, and Rhode Island. I booked a weekend in a fun, east coast beach town in Connecticut where public transportation will get me from the RV “resort” to the town, the beach and the boardwalk. So, I’ll see how the east coast does Labor Day.  Then I’ll begin reversing the time zones again heading west.

I did face one of those uncomfortable weather-related moments again.  I chose this UP route knowing that I’d have to cross the Mackinac (also pronounced Mackinaw – go figure) Bridge to reach the mainland of Michigan.  However, starting the afternoon before my departure, high wind warnings were being posted for the bridge, with instructions for high profile vehicles who wanted to attempt the crossing, The bridge authority warned they could close the bridge to my type of traffic if the winds got stronger.  My thoughts – oh great, here we go again!  So researched the alternative, to drive back south, down around Lake Michigan and stay in the Chicago area.  This route would have added 333 miles to my trip to Niagara and would have eliminated my next Harvest Host site.

I decided to get up early the next morning to make the go/no go call, and thankfully the bridge authority was giving the “’all clear” for crossing (in my brother’s lingo – that’s a Code 4).  So glad I waited to make the decision – I got to drive across this 5-mile suspension bridge high above the lake, and made it to the next stop, a farm as planned.  Nice host, as usual, and after setting up the rig, was called over to the fence by a curious nanny got who wanted to know what I was doing on her property.  Slept soundly after watching a few twinkling of fireflies over a glass of a delicious fume purchased at a winery in Wisconsin.

Niagara Falls – From Far Above and Down Under

A change of pace, to say the least.  The KOA was crazy – so glad I changed spots after realizing the cheap seat I purchased was right off the freeway – and there was no fence between the RVP and this extremely busy road!  So, I upgraded and got a sunny spot (thank God for A/C) with a spacious yard for Audy to play with his new favorite toy, Purple Dino. 

Funny story about this new toy we picked up at a PetSmart.  When Audy was a pup of about 5 months, he had a similar toy.  He carried it on walks, he slept with it, he rolled around the floor with it.  It was his favorite toy ever, until one day it wasn’t.  I think this was the first toy he destroyed after he’d had it a month or two.  The temptation to rip out that squeaker was too much and he gave into his inner wolf and tore into it without mercy.   He’s treated all stuffed animals the same since, I call them his 5-minute toys, but now he has a purple dinosaur again.  And he is playing with it, running, jumping for it, sleeping with it.  Upon command, “bring it”, he gathers it in his mouth and carries it into the rig.  When I let him out in the morning, he turns to look at me until I throw Purple Dino out to him.  Perhaps he believes his original toy has come back to life, and he wants to treat it with as much love and respect as possible until his inner wolf comes out again?

I experienced Niagara Falls over two days.  The bus into downtown Niagara City was only $2.00 and dropped me in front of the visitor center – which kindly provided me with a walking map.  The biggest challenge of the city was staying off the roads that ended up in Canada – which was generally only one block away at any given time. 

The first day I saw the falls from above, words to describe them include awesome, powerful, beautiful, scary, spectacular, pristine and unbelievable.  So many different angles, shots and sections – American Falls, Horseshoe Falls, Bridal Falls and more.  The water is rushing by, down below me at approximately 35 MPH, and the volume I saw was only at 50% capacity – they have diversion upstream and can lower or raise the river volume for many reasons, including rescues when needed.  It was hot, humid and just standing close to the edge to look at the falls left me saturated with damp hair and clothing.  A special treat – I once again, in this park, saw and heard people of all colors, genders and languages experiencing what I was at the same time.  Made my heart feel good seeing diversity again. Felt the sameness of our shared human experience.

And of course, when there is a restaurant in the park that has the name “Top of the Falls”, well it’s a given that you will have something to eat and drink there.  Of course, the menu was a quick table turnover menu – burgers and chicken strips that comes out faster than your drink.  That was okay – I was sitting at another vantage point of seeing the great mist driven high into the clouds by those mighty falls.  A new favorite – the Niagara Splash.  Blue.  Coconut rum, lime juice, coconut water, club soda and blue tint to make it special!  It was. Toggle the photos below to see the before and after!

After spending the last hour shopping, I took the bus home to enjoy the rest of the day.  This is when I ventured into the pool of dangerous children.  It was late afternoon; 90 degrees and the water was cloudy.  There were two pools to choose from, I think I may have chosen unwisely.  I went to the nearest, newest body of water and immediately knew it was a mistake.  Due to my pride, I couldn’t show my fear, there were too many inebriated parents trying to disown their wound-up children all looking at me, wondering if I had the guts to do it.  Deep breath, disrobe and place towel, belongings in an empty chair.  Cautiously approached the pool steps, planning my zig-zag strategy for getting to a least occupied space.  Actively reading the frenetic body language to see which path might have best outcomes. Adjust, redirect, spin and push through.

Made it to the far side of the pool with only 2 near misses and one collision, human bumper cars per se.  Thought I was in a safe spot, until another little girl about 5 thought she would also claim the spot for her jumping practice.  After my 5^th drenching, I pointed out to her that the other side of the ladder was clear – that might be a good spot for her to jump?  She immediately got out and ran to her father and sat down.  I though I was being nice ☹.  Oh well, after 5 minutes, I just pushed my way back through the crowd – at least most kids were apologizing for their unintentional body contact with me – dried off and gave up.  But I held my head up high – I went, I conquered, and I got relief from the heat.  No shame here.

The next day I went back to the Falls for my Maiden in the Midst boat ride.  Here’s a learning.  There are approximately 61 tour companies for the falls, however, you don’t need a tour company to ride the boats!  You just walk up to the ticket booth, buy your tickets and get in line for the elevators to go down, be handed your rain poncho and go to the next available boat!  Of course, I found this out too late and spent $20 more than needed to have the tour guide snap my picture on the observation deck…

No matter how I got there – I got my wish.  I rode to the bottoms of the falls where it was its own climate of mist, rain, wind!  I loved it!  The noise was deafening, and my glasses immediately became useless.  I couldn’t see my photo shots clearly enough, so I just would point at the shadowing landscape in front of me and hope for the best.  I wanted to do more photos but found the closer to the falls we got, the rockier the boat became and holding tightly to my camera, my glasses and the rail was all I could manage.  It was fun for everyone from the Canadian boats to have and yell at us – I felt the love.  And I was adopted for the tour/ride by Ronald and his wife and grandchildren who were visiting from the Menominee reservation in Wisconsin!

It was a glorious experience, one where you really feel spirit, alive, earth’s power – and of course, very, very wet (despite the thin plastic rain ponchos provided).  I wish I had gone a second time, but was hungry and a bit low on energy, so I opted for a Lemon Drop and Ceaser Salad at the Hard Rock Café. 

As I am preparing to post this blog, I’m happy to report that Hurricane Erin has veered away from the North Atlantic coast where I will be in a few days.   I’m hoping the other storms brewing out there off the coast of Africa do the same or peter out, at least until I can see my beloved Rhode Island and turn inland again.

Namaste

My mom would have turned 100 on August 7.  She has been gone for almost 11 years now.  In my thoughts of her, I often wish I could have another cup of coffee with her – and a donut (her favorite sweet)  Wishes do come true, but not always as visualized.  In the past few weeks, I’ve had the next best thing to coffee with mom in that I got to enjoy a cup or two with her youngest sister, my aunt Liz.  A form of bliss, that brown liquid that some drink straight – I’ve always been more of “a little coffee with my cream and sugar, please” type of person.  Perhaps a kick-back to those mornings Mom and Dad would make us the special treat coffee milk?

For 12 days, I stayed with my family in Wisconsin just soaking up love.  I had coffee not only with my aunt, but with cousins and their spouses and relish those mornings where we got to learn more about each other.  My family always lived far away from Wisconsin due to Dad’s Navy career, but I feel close to my family in Mom’s homeland, even though our journeys through childhood, young adulting, parenting, grandparenting have varied and not been shared experiences.  I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to stay awhile and learn who they are today.  And after learning the little I’ve learned, I know I come from kind, caring and compassionate people who have grown strong through their life’s experiences, as have I.  I miss them already and can only hope that I will see at least some of them again.

My trip from North Dakota to Wisconsin was pretty uneventful, a few nights of camping in state parks, 5 loads of laundry and driving. Upon arrival, I was able to split my time between the northern clans (Rice Lake area) and the southern clans (Mazomanie).  Even though I’ve journey further, and seen some new places since, I will use this blog – once again created on a rainy day in the UP (Upper Peninsula) of Michigan – to talk about my immersion into my Kezer family.

Rice Lake and surrounding area – The Broomes

I stayed at two different places, with first my cousin Laurie hosting, then my Aunt Liz’s driveway.  I give both sites 5 stars.  Laurie’s was a pastoral setting in the country with a great viewing deck for lighting shows, for 2 nights!  I also rate this site high due to their open yard and dog friendly policies – they even offered play dates with their dog which guaranteed a deep night’s sleep for both pups. I loved my time here; it acted as my home base for many adventures.  Aunt Liz’s was an intown setting, but only in the way they do it in the Midwest.  We may speak of green and large yards in the Pacific Northwest – but nothing rivals the huge expanse of well-groomed lawns you see in Wisconsin.  And my aunt, at almost 90, still gets her lawn tractor out to keep hers in shape.  What strikes me about these areas is the extreme green – due to the high humidity (that’s another story, the downside) and rain, the lawns are spring green this time of year (whereas back home, our un-watered grass is brown by now).   Liz also offered little playmates for Audy-wee, but his size may have been a bit intimidating.  However, she has reported that since Audy explained the joy of toys to these little dogs, one of her pups was caught playing again😊

During my stay here, besides the delightful visit to the various homesteads of my Broome cousins, I was able to do a few things.  I kayaked for the first time.  I ate in a historic restaurant.  I rode a train. I listened to music.  I was provided with another great performance of guitar and mandolin by my aunt and cousin Jaime.  I put my feet in Lake Superior.  I saw a very tall and inaccurate statute of an Indian. I saw root beer-colored waterfalls.  

I introduced my cousin and her husband to Cadillac margaritas.  I met my cousin Rebecca’s horse Stella.  I once again enjoyed the former dairy farm of my cousin Jaime and got to meet her unexpected brood of newly hatched chicks.  I enjoyed history lessons on the family with my cousin Greg and visited cousin Jim’s wonderful Lakehouse.   And I finished a mission I set out on 10 years ago – with Aunt Liz, I completed the paperwork and submitted the payment to have an engraved stone placed in the Veteran’s Memorial Plaza in Rice Lake.  Finally having mom’s name and service in the US Navy in her hometown. My uncle Ray and cousin Lenny Dean already have markers placed there by my mom’s oldest sister, Doris (deceased).

Mazomanie – The Kezer Clan

Another 5-star resort to stay at, thanks to my cousin Wes.  Backed up to the woods, this piece of his property where his home stands is quiet, peaceful and still has lighting bugs or fireflies signaling their presence at night.  Wes and Barb were gracious hosts and I loved coffee on the deck with Barb in the mornings, to learn about this fabulous lady my cousin married years ago. While Audy and their little Frenchie sparred a few times over toys, this was place was heaven for Audy – toys everywhere and made sure to spread his love around them.

My cousin Dixie is in a new challenge in her life and had recently completed her first round of chemo. Her energy was low; she was tired but I’m so glad I got to spend a few hours with her on my first night in town.  I will keep her in my thoughts and know she’ll be okay – I see the love, caring and help she has around her in her brothers and their spouses.

For my time in “Mazo”, a village so small it doesn’t show on maps, I was treated like royalty by my cousins.  A trip to a local lake for swimming, hiking (beautiful glacial rocks in a lavender hue), whiskey and wine tasting with cousin Mike and his wife Sharon and blue grass music.  Not a whiskey fan, but after sharing two flights with Mike, we both ended up making a purchase.  Either it was outstanding whiskey, or after all those shots. we thought it was?    Bought some wine too.  And Wes took me off roading in an ATV unit of some type, through the other part of his property with has hidden corn fields for the deer.  He drove me through some places where no path was obvious, this man knows his property well. Oh and I met a species of life I never knew existed – the Hummingbird Moth.  They loved Wes and Barb’s flowers.

I received a gift I will always cherish from this part of the trip.  My uncle Gene, my mother’s only brother and the father to Mike, Wes and Dixie was a hardworking man by day and a great musician at night.  He loved seeing others learn an instrument and would tolerate even the worst recital just to encourage the love of music.  Both of his sons inherited his talent, and Mike still plays from time to time. One of Gene’s community efforts was the Mazomanie Music Conservatory, they put on concerts, gave out scholarships and ran a radio station (which was not one of Gene’s favorite things).  The blue grass musicians I saw that night were sponsored by this group, and upon Uncle Gene’s passing, Mike assumed his role with this organization.  The gift, in my round-about way, was one of Uncle Gene’s T-shirts from this group – a t-shirt they wear when working to set up the amps, microphones and stage for performing artists.  I so appreciate this unique and wonderful remembrance of Uncle Gene; I will cherish it and think of him and his family when I wear it.

Note to family in Mazo – unable to post many of the wonderful photos you sent me, they are in a different format.

Closing thoughts on Family and the Motherland

This part of my trip was a glimpse into a community-based way of life that I respect and envy.  In Rice Lake, my cousins are friends with the grandchildren of my grandparents’ friends, neighbors and fellow church members.  They can say a family name everyone knows the history of that family, the individuals in the community. They can mention a teacher at the school and identify that person as either a former school mate or a teacher their children also had.  All of their lives are embedded in their communities, they belong, they participate, they give back and more recently, they are making their voices heard in protest (yes, my aunt gets out there with her anti-fascism signs too)  As a Navy Brat, I look with wonder, for I was a traveler for the early part of Dad’s career and then settled into suburbs of people with no early ties or sense of community.  I observe and feel their commitment and also see their adventures, because almost all of them have travelled abroad.  I don’t wish my life were different, I just feel blessed to have a glimpsed into lives being well lived in a place where my mother was born – even if that specific house is now a beauty parlor! (no kidding-lol)

Note: This blog was drafted a few days ago, however due to connections issues, couldn’t get it posted until today, August 13.

Namaste

July 24, 2025

I started writing this blog in front of a campfire last night that proved the old saying “where there is smoke, there is fire” wrong. I did eventually get enough flame and charcoal to roast marshmallows – so there is that.  It’s muggy here in North Dakota. Last night’s storm didn’t materialize, but there are a lot of high fluffy clouds floating about up there now.

I’m sitting in a nice state park, Fort Abraham Lincoln State Parker in Mandan.  I’m finding that for a few days of camping (as much as you can call living in an RV camping), state parks are the best; state parks generally have good trails and nice campgrounds.  National parks are about seeing the sights, the wildlife but their hiking trails don’t allow dogs, and you are usually following the traffic on a scenic drive.

 So far, this has been a good trip.  Had three nights of thunderstorms, but not the worst I’ve seen since being in my RV.  The first was in Montana, then two more nights in North Dakota.  Can’t trust the weather forecasts anymore – even the radar doesn’t seem to be accurate anymore.  Just saying but predicted outcome with the funding cuts and staff reduction to critical services that we could once rely on.

Today has been a housecleaning day, even washed my sandals which are now sunbathing to dry off.  Here’s a bit about my trip to this point.

Gold Nugget RVP – St. Regis and travel to Glacier

After leaving my friend’s place in Northern Washington state, I spent a day at another delightful, rustic RVP in St. Regis Montana.  Had hiking paths, but they went into the woods, and since Montana is bearing country, I limited my excursions to those paths closest to the campground. Nice pool to escape the heat.   And played pool – found a deserted pool table in the community room, looked around – nobody was present, so I scratched balls, knock them off the table and generally followed the white ball around to do goofy angles. No big strategy involved, but after about a ½ hour I managed to get all the balls into the side pockets!  Don’t think I’m quite ready for the pros yet, since most of my successful shots were accidents, and generally not the ball I was aiming to hit.

My trip to Glacier NP took me through high level grass fields and then around Flat Head Lake which is HUGE!  Took about 45 minutes to clear the west side of it, and it was easy to tell it is a popular spot with the locals.  Looked like a fun place for all kinds of water sports, swimming and fishing.  My trip down the other side when leaving Glacier was just as amazing, I think it was close to an hour long. You could not see one end of the lake from the other, lengthwise.  And yet, it was crystal clear – I finally found a place to pull off and take pictures, looking down the approximately 1000 ft. to the lake I was surprised that I could see rocks on the bottom.     

Glacier NP – who took in the snow? And a rocking KOA resort

When booking my visit to Glacier National Park, my options for RVPs, campsites were limited – so my spot at the West Glacier KOA was more or less a forced splurge, a deluxe patio site. And after I arrived at this awesome RVP, I was glad I made the investment!  This place rocks!  Best dog park ever, Audy cared less about playing ball because there was so much to explore – including a tunnel.  And talk about fun and activities!  They had a “bear” garden, which was a wonderfully landscaped patio with fire pits, an airstream trailer converted to a bar and live music every night.  Great gift shop, 2 pools – one for adults only, which is where they kept the hot tubs😊 A fairly decent hiking path around the parameter, great playgrounds for the kids, all kinds of cabins and a well-stocked store/gift shop. Sad thing though, I mentioned to the bartender that I noticed a lot of vacant spots, particularly in the cheap seats – which I would have been happy with, and he said they’d had lots of cancellations – mostly from Canadians who’d been coming for years.

So yes, #47, your stupid international policies are hurting Americans.

So, for the two nights I was there, Audy and I went to the bar and listened to music.  While I’m not a big whiskey drinker, loved the “Montana Mule” made with huckleberry whiskey.  And, once again, Audy helped me order.

Due to heavy rain for most of my first night (after the bear garden thankfully) and into the early afternoon the next day, I postponed my trip into Glacier National Park to the day I would leave the area.  Perhaps I should have gone in the rain – the next day it was impossible to find parking within 3 miles of the visitor center.  Which was a bummer, since I couldn’t get my NP passport stamped☹ I did find the picnic area before others discovered it, on Lake McDonald, and was able to walk the water edge to take pictures. Second disappointment of my visit, no glaciers in sight!  The view I saw was the historic one, across the lake, which always were of mountains covered in glacier snow.  Now there is nothing visible but remember there is no global warming according to people who don’t believe in science.   And of course, didn’t drive the Going to the Sun Road – the Wandering Spirit is 24 ft, 3 ft over the maximum length allowed on the road.  However, rather than being totally bummed, I spent time in West Glacier Village where lunch and souvenir shopping lifted my spirits. 

Another gracious Harvest Host – Missoula

Spent the night at another gracious Harvest Host and bought some of her milder sauces, which she also sells at a farmer’s market.  Nice lady, and I had a good night’s sleep in her field.  She’s put up with a lot of grief from the county she lives in – her property is right outside of a suburban neighborhood that has encroached on farmland, and even though she has restricted the number of RVs that can stop on any given night, people complain about the RVs driving through the neighborhood.  As she put it, she finds it ironic that the city opened up the city park to homeless campers who leave trash and other unsanitary “gifts” all over the park, and she never once had to pick up trash left behind by us BoonDockers.

Random Stop -Big Timber KOA

I’m working on taking this trip at a slower pace with random one- or two-day layovers along the way. Such was my day at Big Timber, where I finished my puzzle I started in Leavenworth and Audy had a little brook to play in all afternoon behind the rig.  Meet more wonderful people here, a small group of older cousins who came to celebrate the 77th birthday of their cousin who has spent his entire life in group homes.  Not sure what his impairment was, but he was sweet natured and when I talked of going to Rhode Island, and one person said she’d like to go there someday, he said “me too!” very clearly – the rest of the time, he was sometimes hard to understand.

Upon their arrival in their trailers (side of one pictured below), I helped direct my closest neighbor into their spot – the driveways were narrow and close together, but the sites fanned out behind along the creek. I helped move the picnic table to make it easier.  For this, I was invited to dinner (had my chicken on the grill already) and was provided with a large portion of an egg bake for breakfast.  Nice, salt of the earth kind of people from Billings, MT.  Refreshes my belief in humanity.

Impromptu Cheese and Wine Party on the Tongue River

My visit to the Tongue River Winery, a Harvest Host location in eastern Montana, turned out to be one of those special impromptu occasions that make memories!  First, when I pulled in it was 95 degrees and I was thinking I’d need to go to an RV park so I could plug in and run the AC.  However, Bob, the host was ready and for $10 let me park on his concrete pad and plug in for the night – Perfect!   There was two other RVs that came in about the same time, and one couple was heading home to Missoula. 

The Missoula couple and I started our tasting their very unique and tasty wines, and learned a lot about Montana grapes, developed in the 1930s at the university of Montana to be hardy for the harsh climate -the vines can survive and be productive even after a winter of -40!  This family-owned winery also make or blend their wines with other fruits to create unique flavors.  I won’t talk about how good it was, but I bought 3 bottles of 3 different wines.

After the tasting, we all got glasses of wine, including our hosts, Bob and Melody, and sat down – the other couple went and got a whole bunch of munchies, crackers, salmon, dip and cheeses to share.  My offering was meager – pepper jelly and cream cheese with wheat thins – don’t carry a lot of foods in my rig.  This turned into a great evening of glasses of wine and great conversation. We sat through an out-of-the-blue thunderstorm that had the lights blinking on/off.  The woman in the other couple, a retired nurse, shared her experience during COVID, stated it angered her to hear some people now denying how bad it was.  At the beginning of the epidemic, she’d been a travelling nurse on her first assignment on a reservation.  She talked, emotionally, about watching people succumb all alone and the distrait community that couldn’t practice their native ritual for the dying or deceased at they had for generations.

I think the best story of the evening was from Bob, a practicing pastor who isn’t sure what he believes anymore. Except one thing he does believe is kindness, caring and compassion are required, and they are not proprietary to any one religion or faith.  Anyway, he shared a story of river canoeing that included skinny dipping, naked canoeing and surprises and a group of Amish children on the riverbank. He hoped he hadn’t created a moral dilemma for the parents of these astonished and wide-eyed children.  They had mistakenly believed they were in a more remote part of the river.   Not the religious type, but if I were, Bob would be my type of minister!

The connection was great, the type of evening that can only happen spontaneously – and I was happy to find, in this red state, people who are actively protesting the destruction of our democracy as I am.

Oh Give Me A Home Where The Buffalo Roam – Theodore Roosevelt National Park

I spent 2 days at the various units of this park.  The first day was at the south unit, where you can drive deep into the park in search of critters from prairie dogs to bison.  I was able to visit with the prairie dogs, active little boogers for sure.  Buffalo, well apparently, they put them in the barn during the day, because I did not see any of them on my drive into the interior. However, on my drive out – there he was, up on a ridge, a magnificent beast poising as if waiting for a call from his agent to be the next model for the new buffalo head nickel! And of course, when I spotted him, there was no place to turn out and there was a line of cars behind me.

My luck improved the next day when less than 2 miles into the park, I ran into a buffalo traffic jam.  Almost as if staged, for this is the money shot of buffalo crossings that you see in many parks.  BUT who cares!  It was my shot on my adventure, and there they were a small herd of cows and their calves of varied ages earning their grass by slowly moving, almost teasing the cars taking their time crossing the road.  I was pleased to see that everyone stayed in their cars for this experience, I think the buffalo have reached their quotas for tossing people at Yellowstone this year.  Ours were more into playing games, like the final cow and her older calf that played with each other in the middle of the road for our entertainment pleasure.  Made my day!

Later during my drive, I saw the old, lone bull rolling in a dusty wallow – obviously avoiding a DNA paternity test and child support for any of those wild children in the herd.  Typically, the father is off at the local wallowing hole while the mothers are tending to the young.  I would say the calves all looked like him, but then again, I think all buffalo pretty much look alike.

And I should mention, the park has some outstanding views of the Missouri River and other natural formations as well. Visited the little town of Medoro while I was there as well – Audy and I had lunch on the comfortable back patio of a bar.

Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park

At the confluence of the Heart and Missouri rivers, this park had a lot to do – but I loved it most as a quiet, green place to pass a few days – and clean the rig before my final ascent into Wisconsin.  Besides the campground, this park has a reconstructed Mandan village. “Village on a Slant” is the English translation for this home of the indigenous, farming people that lived here, described as one of the most peaceful tribes in the region.  And yet, they lost many lives to smallpox and were eventually relocated as were many native Americans under the cruelty of past governments. 

There is also the remains of a historic fort here, barracks and other buildings still intact. At one point, the infamous General Custer was in charge here.  The Mandan tribe were friendly neighbors who had been here for generations and shared the land with the white community.  For their hospitality, Custer’s campaign included their people in the push to put them on reservations.

And so, that covers a couple of weeks of meandering.  I am loving this trip as well, although it has taken on a slower pace and different feel from my first trip.  I’ve hit some weather but haven’t had to dodge any storms (knock on wood).  I’m just enjoying the scenery as I go.  And filling in my NP passport book I bought almost 2 years ago at the Painted Hills in central Oregon.  I’m looking forward to getting to Rice Lake in 2 more days, to see my family there.  Aunt Liz in my mom’s little sister and my only remaining aunt.  I have cousins that I have fun with, a warm, musically inclined group that reminds me of my immediate family.  Can’t wait to see each and every one of them – I haven’t booked any of my trip past Wisconsin.  Once I am there, I will figure out the next portion of the trip, after they have grown tired of me and evicted me (lol). 

I am excited that one of the hosts along the way suggested a different path for my journey to Niagara Falls, a route I hadn’t considered but now am excited to follow – it will take me along the Great Lakes where there are plenty of small towns and campgrounds to explore.  

Namaste

July 14, 2025

I sit in a campground that is growing more deserted as the weekend campers head home after Sunday morning check-out.  In St. Regis, Montana, tomorrow I will be head to Glacier National Park. This is a KOA/Good Sam campground in the older, rustic style – gravel roads and lots of tree, things to do.  Just learned it was rated third best campground in the USA!   6 days into this adventure/journey and I’m pleased to find myself as happy and excited as I was with the last one.

This sojourn began by pulling out of my 6-week respite RVP where I felt like I overstayed my welcome after the second week and exited the area through the Columbia Gorge – a well-known and beloved drive of mine.  At one point in my last job, I spent about 8.5 months driving that route weekly.  And of course, family memories – trips to Leavenworth, Washington and then my nephew’s wedding at Lake Chelan years ago – with Dad and other family members.  Knowing I’d risk memories, I targeted Leavenworth as my first location – and I am so glad I did!

(Photo Credits to my friend Roberta)

Leavenworth – A Bavarian Village, Sauerbraten and good German beers

I spent my first 2 days, 3 nights in a KOA with a short walk into downtown Leavenworth, Washington.  For those who may not have heard of this place, no, it is not the federal penitentiary (that’s in Kansas), This small town/village is one that reinvented itself years ago from a declining mining/forestry town into a Bavarian themed destination for people in the Pacific Northwest, or anywhere else, that wanted to escape into the mountains where you could raft the Wenatchee River, hike, ride bikes, and/or camp or stay in a nice hotel and still enjoy a good sausage and pilsner at the end of the day. The downtown area is now permanently closed to traffic, and their biggest annual draw is their Oktoberfest, actually held in October!  But year round, it is popular for its unique little shops, bakeries and eateries. At Christmas, for those willing to drive in the snow or take Amtrak, you can arrive at a winter wonderland with horsedrawn sleighs and a village of twinkling lights.

For me, I walked into town both days – and along the river with Audy on Day 1.  We enjoyed a salad and a light pilsner for lunch that day on a sidewalk patio, or rather I did – Audy just greeted those arriving. We even got a little browsing in the stores that welcomed dogs.  Day 2, after a good walk with Audy, I went back alone in search of one of my favorite German meals – sauerbraten and red cabbage.  Served with a good klotsch, (another lighter German ale), there is something about that tangy roast beef that appeals to my palate, and I was thankful to find a restaurant serving it for lunch.  Some more shopping and then home to work under the awning on a puzzle, since I found a perfect sized folding table for just such an activity on this trip!

The downside of this RVP was that I was backed into space on the volleyball green, which was very popular with an extremely competitive, loud and boisterous youth group every evening.  I was also flanked by tent campers with young children.  I remember when use of the “F” word was naughty, riske and used clandestinely to respect our elders.  This group proved, once again, that we now live in a “F-you” culture, where little respect is given to those who might hear the word used as a noun, verb, and adjective during an otherwise friendly game (that wasn’t over the f’ing line, what the f..?, that was f’ed up, and when all other expressions failed, just a loud f..k).  Besides thinking of the young children and how they were absorbing the florid language being bantered continuously, I found myself thinking when someone would occasionally yell “bullshit” that was indeed a young person not afraid to break from the pack with a creative choice of words (not).  Am I getting old when I say I wish their vocabulary was broader and more innovative – one can only hear the F word for a limited period!

My very first best friend, Roberta Scott

At 6 years old, in that time of life where you play acted your fantasies before you learn to dream about the future, I discovered that you could form an attachment to someone outside of your family –and this was called friendship.  I met Roberta (aka Bert now) during this time when our personalities were emerging, and our spirits were developing.  We became inseparable for first through the first portion of 3^rd grade.  She was an avid reader, an advanced reader for her age – Nancy Drew books were her favorite.  She also had a cat, Purr Box, of which I was extremely envious.  I learned to love reading from her and knew that someday I wanted my very own cat as well. (Okay, so at one point in my life I had about 14 kitties I think, but who’s counting?)

For years we stayed in touch, after learning about the heartbreak of having a friend move away – you see we were both Navy brats and therefore were moved at the whim of Uncle Sam.  We both ended up in San Diego but at extreme distance from one another, and after age 16 began to lose contact – until we were in our 50s, I think!  Then Roberta found me through Facebook.  I remember how excited I was to hear from her, and I knew I would see her one day, but it would take close to 20 years to get there. 

But this year, it happened.  At 70, my first friend, my early childhood soul mate and reading inspiration and I met up again.  It was unbelievable, we didn’t feel like strangers and spent a day and 2 nights talking about life, values and our idyllic beginnings of running barefoot on the Sandy Point* beach among horseshoe crabs, playing in the cornfields, taking rides on an old door in the salt water marsh behind my house (courtesy of our older sisters) and holding onto the wicker baskets in the bay while our fathers scooped up quahogs.  64 years ago, on Narrangansant Bay in East Warwick, Rhode Island – which will be my pivot point for this journey – our shared memories were created.  I am so blessed that this journey included hugging the 6-year-olds still within us.

I’ve been blessed with many good friends over the years and still have many in my life – but it was Roberta who set the standard for what a friend should be.  And I’m hoping this will be just the beginning of many reunions we have over our remaining lifetime.

I truly enjoyed staying with Roberta and her gracious husband, Dave, on their large, beautiful spread with meadows and forest allowed for sunset watching and boondocking (well, they allowed me to plug in!)  We watched random deer and turkey with their youngsters wander across what Roberta and Dave call the freeway in the meadow.   Audy also explored a new career of ground squirrel hole excavation.  The result was a black tongue and filthy dog (very rich black soil!).  Dave and I had to give him a bath.

Can’t thank them enough for the tour of their community, sight seeing and fun places we went for meals – huckleberry pancakes with buttermilk syrup for my final breakfast were delicious as promised!

*I learned from Roberta that the beach was called Sandy Point (now my attachment to the location makes sense? LOL)

And so, I’m off.  My second leg of my retirement adventures is well underway. I’m sitting under the big blue sky, enjoying one of my favorite scents – pine on a warm day. It is close to the dimming of the day, and tomorrow I will wake up, pack up, unhook and go.  I love my life. Even in the scariness of this facist dictatorship in the White House, I still will remember that mother earth offers lot of blessings – and I am lucky to be able to experience them and learn in this year of Sandy’s Adventures.   Namaste

June 18, 2025

I turned on the ignition to Wandering Spirit this morning and with it felt my spirit ignite along with her, anticipatory joy!  We’ve been sitting in stationary mode for about a month, and I worried she would feel neglected and forgotten, so I checked to see if she was ready to go and she jumped to life instantly – my trusted steed of adventures and my comfort, my home is almost ready to take off again.  I am 19 days away from my next departure, and I am antsy to get back on the road.  If I am honest, I was ready to go within a week of coming “home” into my respite, my hiatus from my travels.

Hiatus = a temporary gap, a pause, a break or an absence from what you are doing.  For me, this pause allowed me to get a few things done; taxes (got a federal refund already but paid some to the state), get the cat’s blood work done (he’s doing great, thyroid medicine is working) and scheduled service for this rig (which will happen this Friday, the soonest I could get her in).  I also dealt with some tasks that had been on my to-do list from my trip – a new 4” memory foam mattress topper (comfy), a new portable grill and small folding grill table – easier to pack and use when indulging my love of all things grilled. I purged excess clothes and unused stuff – feeling lighter and have been able to move most of my belongings into cabinets rather than in boxes on the upper bunk. 

Family and Friends

I’ve had time to spend with family and friends, with more time coming for my ‘Golden Girl’ friends in another week. I was able to convince my sister, her husband and son to do moonshine tasting from the two bottles I brough back from Gatlinburg, TN.  Actually, it wasn’t that hard to convince them, just pulled out the bottles and set up the shot glasses and they were in 😊.  Oh, and I helped my sister assemble new patio furniture incorrectly (LOL).  I met my eldest grandson’s new little family and special lady in his life (wait, does that make me great-grandma – I love it!).  I celebrated my youngest sister’s birthday with all my sibs and their spouses present.  I hiked with my sister, my sister-in-law and a special guest from Hawaii – my great nephew!  (The photos of that hike won’t post for some reason).  I went to my youngest grandson’s 8^th grade promotion ceremony.  I watched my middle grandson reconnect with my Audy-wee – they have always had a bond. Those are the types of special moments with family and friends I have always cherished in my life.

I’ve washed rugs, bedding and cleaned out more red dust from my journey through the southern states. I’ve planned my initial northern route and made reservations to get me to Wisconsin and then have visioned the route from the mid-west to Maine and my next turning point – Ives Road on Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island.  Some of my earliest memories are there, running through the cornfield or among the horseshoe crabs barefoot and wearing those matching coats and snow pants ensembles, walking amongst snow drifts towering over my head. And of my very first best friend, who I will be able to see again on this trip – the thought makes me so happy.  We last saw each other when we were 16 (after I got my driver license and VW Bug) but then we drifted apart. Social media has been good for reconnecting with people from my life that were dear to me.

I admit to feeling a letdown after 5 ½ months of travel adventures.  Hmmm, got a plan in place for after the next trip but worry, will I be done with this gypsy lifestyle when the time comes?  Thinking of ways to keep the adventure alive once I’ve settled in – when the time comes.  I even felt excited the day I found the little town I’m near – even though there isn’t much too it.  Now that I’ve allowed my inner wandering spirit free, she craves discovery, new insights, different perceptions and experiences to feed an appetite for the revisited, the new and the unexpected.

To keep sane, and feed that hunger, there have been days where I’ve had to jump into the car and drive somewhere just to reduce anxiety created by lack of movement or new sights.

Trillium Lake Afternoon Excursion

Yesterday was one such drive, where I went to a small lake I’ve been to multiple times since my move to the Portland area in 1983.  It retains its beauty under the oversight of Mt. Hood – it is a popular place but still carries the pristine clearness of a forest gem. Audy was beyond himself to be around water, as always – you can see the tension in his leash where he strains to go play, particularly with the ducks swimming by. It was restorative for me to be up among the big trees and mountain blue waters; it reminded me of why I choose this part of the world as my home.

Pausing to share my concerns about this authoritarian government

Being temporarily parked in this fairly new RV Park made of asphalt level lots with little grass and small trees has also afforded me opportunity to add my voice to growing protest of this fascist dictatorship that is cancelling our democracy.  I once promised myself to not make my blog too political, but my concern grows daily. I cannot sit aside and see the cruelty inflicted on marginalized groups and the destruction of our constitutional rights while I simultaneously wonder if I will receive a social security benefit in the future. There is too much going wrong to cover here, but I think my sign summed up my feelings on that man, his council of incompetents and the Project 2025 agenda.

So, I did get out there on No Kings Day and will join similar peaceful protest when and where I can. I don’t want to lose our country to an authoritarian regime – not for me, or for my daughter and grandsons. This is also part of my retirement adventures, one I didn’t anticipate but like the rest of the journey, dealing with storms of all types has been the norm.

Make no mistake, I am a patriot in the true definition. I love my country even as I see its flaw and historical mistakes. I am the daughter of two Navy veterans who swore to uphold the constitution – they were more conservative than I am, but they would not agree with what is going on today under this administration. I honor their service and those of others who fought this type of BS elsewhere.

So let me talk about the last few weeks of my journey, not as exciting as the rest of the trip – visiting national casino parks of Nevada (okay, not federally recognized as parks) and driving through familiar territory in Northern California. 

The Journey Home, Utah– Drained pools, Thunderstorms and Hiatus Practice

The day I left the beautiful canyons in Utah, I first headed to a place I thought I could relax a few days, swim, catch some rays and hike.  Unfortunately, this was a bust – the pool was bone dry, there was a big grass field behind the RVP (can you say hay fever?) and nothing within walking distance.  The KOA manager was really nice and refunded the extra two nights when I decided to move onto Salt Lake City. 

I spent 3 days in SLC, and did major housecleaning, still trying to leave behind red dust (which I am still finding in nocks and crannies even today) and was able to get the dirt, but not the bugs, off Wandering Spirt since they had an RV wash on premise.  The pool, well managed to get some time at the pool between more thundershowers and high winds – the last afternoon, I felt like I was swimming in a forest lake with all the leaves in it.  This was the start of getting the adventure out of the girl, at least temporarily.

The National Casinos of Nevada

I miss the old Nevada of large roadside casinos with free drinks, coin dropping slot machines and buffets.  It seems what is left of the gambling industry is small locations, smaller hotels or stand-alone buildings that are more interesting in your feeding their machines $20 bills rather than letting a person win back their quarters every now and then to make the fun last.  Tight isn’t the word anymore for the one-armed bandits, it’s more like suffocating squeeze from video machines that slurp in money like they were dying of thirst.  The glitz, glamour and titillation of the penny slots seems to have dried up, but I made my contributions anyway in Winnemucca and Reno.  I did manage to net $70 on my first night in West Wendover but donated it back at the next two stops.

At West Wendover, I arrived at 1-ish to an RV Park that was perhaps ¼ full and was greeted by a person who told me that check-in was 3pm.  This was the first time anywhere on the whole trip that anyone was strict about their check-in policy.  I pleaded old age, too many reservations in too many states with different check-in times, and stated I’d be happy to sit in my rig for 2 hours in front of the building if she wished.  She relented and let me in, which I appreciated a lot because once I was hooked up and got my hot spot working for the TV, a hailstorm hit.  The theme of this trip – wild and unexpected weather!

My last night in Reno, knowing the next day would be travel to my other hometown of the Rogue Valley in Southern Oregon, I splurged on a nice steak dinner with fancy drinks (a cherry pina colada and a palette cleanser of raspberry sorbet with champagne).  I was disappointed in the Boomtown KOA here, the site backed up to a ravine overlooking the river but wasn’t weeded and had litter in the weeds.   However, what I’ve learned on my travels is you can sleep anywhere for one night.

The Final Drive to Oregon

The last leg of this trip, the drive from Reno to the Rogue Valley was filled with memories of family trips to Reno, in its glory days.  My little sister’s wedding, Blues Festivals or just some plain ole “why don’t we go down to Reno for the weekend” trips.  I took the road we always traveled, through Susanville, up to Mt. Shasta to reconnect with I-5 with the ghosts of family fun riding in my rig – Mom and Dad, my siblings and even my daughter, we’ve all travelled this road together.  Along the way I remember the car games, the music, the laughter driving down, and the places we’d stop for breakfast coming back while trying to pretend we weren’t hung-over and exhausted – ah, the good old days?  And we always dropped a few pennies, dimes or quarters on the way out those days, positive we’d hit the big jackpot on our way home.  We did.  Not monetarily, but in terms of family love and memories.

What made me sad was to see the destruction along this beautiful route – the Goat Creek and Humbug fires of a few years back have left acres of scarred, blackened forest near Lassen National Park. If I recall properly, man-made.  And then I saw Mt. Shasta, a nice coat of snow still and I felt like I was home again. 

Overall, I covered 12, 616 miles on my first journey.  Let’s see if I can match or beat it during the next trip.  Coming soon – new episodes of Sandy’s Retirement Adventures.  Or How a Woman, a Dog and a Cat Travel the USA in a Chevrolet?  (Yes, my rig is on a Chevy platform- lol) Sorry, you may need to be a baby boomer to get the car jingle reference.

I’m ready to roll!

Namaste

Mother’s Day, May 11, 2025

I’m sitting in Salt Lake City, waiting out another thunderstorm with high winds predicted.  Of course, getting to the end of this awesome trip, so what’s one more storm, right?  So far, I think it’s passing without drama, but sitting in a warm RV with the hot body of my dog on my feet isn’t my idea of having a good time!   I planned this 4 day stay for my final rig cleaning and some pool time, and while I’m fairly successful with the first goal, the second is questionable today (did get some time in the pool yesterday – it was 90°!).  I will say though that after washing the red dirt of the last few weeks out of the rugs and bedding, and doing a heaving Febreze spray down and airing of all the lounge pillows, this place smells pretty sweet today😊

My journey here has been my most favorite portion of this trip, I have long been drawn to red earth canyons with their beautiful turrets, cliffs, portals and stories.  And from the Grand Canyon through the Arches National Park, it was a moving feast of views and inspirational thoughts. 

Many years back, a self-proclaimed chief in Sedona made some observations about me, then told me I was from turtle, or earth, clan – drawn to collecting small rocks as I wandered (I do) and that my totem was black bear (independent with a need to withdraw sometimes) and my guiding spirit was Shandonese, or coyote, who used mischief to coax grumpy bear out of bad humor when needed.  Yep, that is one description of me.  And rocks – I have small baggies of rocks I’ve picked up at almost every spot I’ve been too.   So, this turtle clan woman finds connection when the earth is red and when mother earth tells her stories to me.  As corny as it sounds – here’s the messages I’ve received as I’ve wandered through the national parks (please save these national treasures from the people who would destroy them!).

First – here are some random shots along this leg of the journey – desert flowers, Butch Cassidy’s Childhood home (not as good looking as Paul Newman in the movie though), and other misc. photos.

I’ve seen this place many times in my life, as a child, as a teen, as a single mother, as a maturing adult and now as an elder. And I can never get past being awed by the vastness and majesty of this canyon.  The scenes look more like a screen print of colors, depth and contrast that can’t be real.  Each visit humbles me.  It reminds me that we are all part of something greater – we belong to mother earth and need to be respectful of this planet. For me its not about a being that needs worship, it’s about feeling the power of earth and knowing we have to protect her despite her ability to make great beauty, she can be harmed by man.

I was lucky enough to visit her twice during this trip.  One day, I unhooked at the campsite and drove into the park for hiking and photography.  The next day, making my exit from the area through the park, I stopped for more views and photos.  Got a lot of miles in hiking the rim and found delight in the fact that there were so many different languages being spoken – Japanese, Dutch, German, Hindu perhaps and different cultural expressions in dress and behaviors. 

Japanese in large groups, with everyone using selfie sticks and doing cute poises (many young women were cupping their heads and titling them – must be the newest trends in poising?).  Young men from the Netherlands going over fences and out on to rocky points to show their fearlessness and an Indian family strolling with the women dresses in glittery saris with choli tops and lehenga skirts as if it were a Sunday afternoon.  I just wonder how long it will last for people to come to the USA for these experiences.  It makes me sad to think we have lost our place in the world as a respected and welcoming country.

I first fell in love with Zion National Park when I came with my young teen daughter in the early 1990s.  There was something that stirred in my growing spiritual understanding that brought me comfort.  I am awed that one small river could, over time, crave a cradle in formidable layers of ancient rock.   Just this morning, my daughter told me Zion was her favorite – I’d always known it was mine; it brought me joy to know she also felt that way.  This is one place I hope to visit again during my lifetime.

And by splurging a little here on my campsite, I scored a site with unbelievable views of the majestic, multi-colored cliffs.  And, although it started out fretfully, Audy-wee and I were adopted by a Winnebago Horizon Class A motorhome retreat!  And I made friends with Steve and Steve, the retreat’s hosts.  It all transpired when my excitement about building a campfire and enjoying the view until the stars came was disrupted by a potluck of 20-30 people, followed by a technical, recorded lecture and Q&A session on RV awning and slide problems, safe driving speeds and handy tips on how to check jack fluid levels on these massive rigs.  I almost cried wondering if all nights would be like this. 

Our sites were so close, I didn’t start my campfire out of fear that I’d smoke them out.  They had all been friendly and Audy-wee got lots of attention (once again acting as an unofficial greeter) but I felt like my burnt marsh mellow dreams were fading fast. The next morning, after weighing my options, I decided to talk to the two men at their exquisitely appointed site (their camp chairs, tables and couches were to die for!)   It turned out they were delightful, apologetic and promised that each night had a different agenda, so while people may gather for drinks, there wouldn’t be more large gatherings or lectures and invited me to join them at any time (Pity or charity for the poor little old lady in her simple, basic 24-foot Class C rig?).  Anyway, they were good at their words, and that night I had my campfire when they returned from their dinner out, I invited them over to join me.  They got fresh drinks to do so, but we didn’t get too much time to enjoy it, after 15 minutes it rained.  I was happy, and glad I used my training and belief system to try to resolve the problem directly at the source!  And in my peace keeping approach, I made two new friends.  The type you’d like to have in your life because they were good people, kind, caring and friendly.  They also happened to be a gay couple.

Yes, we are all connected in some way – regardless of who we love or how we live our life.  You see, they were able to accept me, without judgement, even though I was driving a much smaller and less luxurious Class C rig. 😉

My route took me through this national park of hiking trails in deep red earth tones and structures both coming and going to Bryce National Park.  It had formations that captured the eye at every turn.  It was the preshow for Bryce but held its own in inspiring awe.  One of those places were campgrounds were available, and if it wasn’t threatening to snow that night, I might have camped there instead of the historic RV Park I stayed at.  Was worth a stop at the Visitor Center on my way out of Bryce.

I use the term beauty here to not only recognize artistic accomplishments but even more important, the caring, acceptance and understanding for all people.  Bryce is unique in its landscape, for the forces of earth shifts, rain and wind left gardens, castles, turrets and structures that are different and yet complimentary.  The colors were still as vivid as the Grand Canyon, the Red Rock Canyon and Zion but more layered and varied.  We can be creative when we let go of our biases and privileged desires and just let humanity evolve into a place where everyone is respected and has the ability to apply their best efforts to the betterment of humanity. The results could be phenomenal as the natural sculptures of this awesome canyon.

And once again, I was delighted to hear more diversity in languages – perhaps some Spanish or Italian added to the mix.  I know most of their words would match a lot of what I was feeling inside, and I want them to feel they can come again if they wish.  For most, I’m sure these trips were long planned but were now executed some trepidation, sadly, the USA is on the “not safe for travel” lists in many countries.  Breaks my heart.

Again, beauty isn’t only external, it is a feeling of peace, acceptance and humanity.  We see it best when we see the variations in overall context – while we may see an individual trait or color, the beauty emerges when the diversity is seen through a larger lens. This individual formation isn’t lost, but beauty comes from the merging of the layers.

This was my first trip to this national park.  I entered thinking I’d just do a quick look around, I did the 8-mile scenic drive.  And two phrases entered my mind – diversity and harmony-disharmony.  All words applied, and what I saw was that it took layers of color, tumbling towers and huge boulders that were once part of cliffs. Sometimes it was as if you could see faces in the walls.  It was a diverse canyon, but it was beautiful as well.  The changes in scenes and rock layers were in harmony, even though you could see that it was subject to some disharmony from time to time, with changes appearing to be quicker and more volatile than other canyons I’d visited.

And the message of how diversity creates beauty was confirmed as I drove to my next destination through barren lands of mountains worn down to gray, lifeless hills. This scene was monochromatic, drab and uninteresting. Just as life becomes when we only have people of the same color, thought, values and beliefs around us.   And sometimes to get out of this monochromatic state of mind, we may have to content with the disharmony while those who like things homogenous learn about real beauty – which is not power and control.

One arch in particular spur this thought, and I hope I captured the view on the other side of the rock, as seen through the rock – green trees, blue skies and clouds.  We need a shared vision now, one where everyone can see how much greater we would be as a human race if we learn to accept, understand and love everyone despite the traits or characteristics we arbitrarily have selected to create “different” – a state that is opposite of beauty.  Some people can’t see through rocks, I hope I’m one of the dreamers who can.  And I invite others to join me.  Look at your personal rock wall and remove the pieces that block your vision, until you have the portal, the arch to see beyond the rock itself.

For those of you who stuck with this long post and sharing of my inspirations and beliefs, thank you!  These thoughts were a long-time brewing, as a child of the 60’s, I cannot express disillusionment I have felt over the disrespect, disavowing and mistreatment of people for reasons that are beyond my comprehension.  My offices over the years always had a message posted similar to “No matter how you look, how you speak, what your ability levels are, what you believe or who you love, you are welcome here” – it is a belief system I will always have.

The adventure isn’t over yet, and this particular part of the journey still has some life left in it as I meander homeward for my refresh and recharge respite.  More stories to come as I meandered northwest through Nevada and Northern California to Oregon. 

Namaste