Day 30 plus 2--July 22

And so the adventure comes to a close.

We left Chowchilla Tuesday morning in good spirits.  (That sentence never bodes well in a novel.)  We planned to overnight in the desert to shorten the drive and avoid some of LA's worst traffic.  When we reached Mojave, it was 102 and didn't look very inviting.  (We had swerved east to avoid pulling the Box over the Grapevine and instead had to face Tejon Pass.)  So far, so good.  Another two hours and we would be home.  Let's do it.

After filling up with gas for the umpteenth time, we hit the road and soon discovered our worst nightmare.  Well, almost worst...the car air conditioner had died.  It would not blow cool air.  Oh, boy.  So, we soon discovered that all of those glorious gas stations along the interstates have lovely convenience stores, but no garages.  So, with windows partially down and all of us sweltering, we managed to cripple into Irvine that evening.  We honestly kept a close eye on the Divine Miss M.  A dead dog would not have made for a happy ending to our trip.

Of course, with a Box, you don't just go home.  You go to the RV storage yard and unhitch.  Fun times. You also unload just the essentials and scoot on home.  As expected, Maggie was in doggy heaven.  She probably never expected to see 14 Porter again.  During the course of the evening, she was seen rolling joyously in the backyard grass.

And the aftermath?  A huge tub at the post office full of a month's worth of mail (half of which is junk, which has to be sorted anyway), a trip back to the Box to completely fill the car with all the stuff we took so that we can wash/put it away at home until the next time, a yard that looks like the jungle that grew in Max's room and takes two days plus to trim, and a very hefty bill that gives us back our air conditioned van.

What we will miss and what we will not?

Will not miss living in 8'x23' of living space, lowering our bed each night and putting it back up in the wall every morning, inching our way around inside like an astronaut to avoid stepping on each other and the dog, taking an RV shower (water on, rinse, water off, soap up, water on, rinse--more times if you wash your hair), watching the gauges--do we have enough room in the gray water tank to get by until it's dumped?, do we have enough fresh water to shower, etc.?, trying to go to sleep early when sunset isn't until 10:00 pm, driving an average of 55 mph, slow enough that I now know how many configurations of wires there are on power poles, sweating out the miles until the next gas station, worrying about cell coverage and wifi, using laundromats (except at Yellowstone), fighting off bloodthirsty mosquitoes, and seeing a grizzly up close and personal.

Will miss seeing more awesome scenery than most people get to see in a lifetime, feeling free of encumbrances because we have brought the essentials with us, taking time to play games at night while listening to great CD's, watching the Divine Miss M revel in her walkabouts and taking in thousands of doggy scents, looking straight into the eyes of a wolf, driving slowly enough that we can read all the signs, locating wildlife and feeling as if we were on safari, listening to rain on our roof sounding like thousands of castanets, driving through small towns and countrysides that we didn't know existed, yet lots of people live there, and seeing a grizzly up close and personal (yeah, that was a mixed blessing).

Will we do it again?  In a heartbeat...to different scenes, though.  Lessons learned?  That sometimes scenic byways are worth it and sometimes not, that we ate out more than expected (the cook--that would be me--needs to plan more varied fare), that you can actually fill up on glorious scenery to the point that you really don't care if you see another great pine tree, that when one is in the boonies, technology can be challenging, that you need to always make sure you lock your car, that we can peacefully coexist in 8'x23' of space, and to always be on the lookout for grizzlies.

Until next time...

Day 29--July 19, 2011

Greetings from Chowchilla, CA, dastardly hot home of the bus driver who kidnapped the school kids and buried them in an underground bunker.  Haven't we all wanted to do that to some child at some point?  Be honest.  I can say that because they were rescued, I think.

Coming from the cool north, it's hard to face a regular California summer.  Not my favorite weather.

Do you know how hard it is to find an RV park in Podunk, USA?  Whoa Nelly.  We have a fat campground guide that saved our bacon the other night.  Without its guidance, we never would have found the Grant County Fairgrounds and RV Park in John Day, CA.  Betcha don't even know where John Day is!  You're not missing a bunch, but we did find a lot of the small towns we drove through on 395 rather charming.  John Day actually had a hilltop airport with small planes, helicopters, and a crop duster.  I insisted that Manskills visit the site.  He's always yearning to release his inner pilot and fly again.

One thing that continues to astonish us is the fact that you can drive a fairly major highway and see no other vehicles for miles and miles.  No gas stations.  No state patrols.  No cell phone coverage.  Lots of prayers for no car trouble.  Considering that we average about 10 mpg in the Box, and had to drive 140 miles between gas fill-ups over curvy roads and mountain passes, it just proves the power of prayer.

We travelers love to find signs and details that remind us just how far away from home we really are.  South of Spokane, we spotted the Snappy Sports Senter (sic) that was advertising an "Elk Calling Workshop."  Hmmm...why do you suppose an elk would want to be called?  In John Day, we thought they were being very friendly when a sign proclaimed "Come and see Tracy's Bull," until we realized it was outside a "Custom Meats" store.  Bet Tracy's bull wasn't on the hoof.  Sorry--I like to think that my meat grows on refrigerated trees in plastic wrap.

Looks like two more days on the road will wrap up this adventure.  Mojave, here we come.  Such a garden spot in July!

Day 26--July 16, 2011

Oh, my.  The internet connections on our trip do stink.  Fortunately, the scenery does not.

Manskills is becoming quite the wildlife photographer.  On our last day in St. Mary (East Glacier), we drove partway up the Going to the Sun Road at dusk and on the way back down stopped in time to see a black bear up on the nearby hillside.  We got out of the car and followed him along, hearing him crunch bark and shake the bushes.  I was madly calculating just how far we would have to run to the car if he started toward us, but my braveheart partner just kept clicking.  Fortuately, Mr. Bear was much more interested in a natural dinner than in us.

Our next adventure took us to Canada.  Waterton Lakes National Park in Alberta sits astride the international boundary and is called a Peace Park.  The view from our campsite in Waterton Township was awesome--bordering a huge lake and surrounded by beautiful peaks.  The Divine Miss M was in dog heaven--the place was covered in green grass and innundated with ground squirrels.  She felt that it was her official duty to sniff every hole.  I was just praying that she didn't get her nose nipped.  We also had deer right in the park, close enough to get pictures.

Waterton Lakes has a couple of nice drives available.  Red Rock Canyon was pretty--it gets bad when you have seen so many awesome places that you rank a gorgeous canyon as pretty.  Then we took another drive to Cameron Lake--wow.  It nestles in a glaciated bowl surrounded by peaks.  It comes in a close second to Lake Louise--which, in my humble opinion, is the most beautiful scene on the planet.  Just shows, you never know what's around the bend.

My favorite part of Waterton was the ranger talk.  We had a perky Canadian girl who would have made a great first grade teacher.  You may sense where this is going.  Her talk was called "Where the Wild Things Are" and she connected aspen trees, elk, and wolves within the ecosystem.  (Her bachelor's degree is in Eco-tourism--great idea with all of Canada's supreme national parks.)  Anyway, Miss Ranger had laid out a lot of props and during the course of her power point, asked the audience to participate in acting out various roles.  To my total amazement, Manskills (aka Mr. Reserved) acted out (as an audience member) the role of a bull elk--complete with hand antlers and bellowing--for at least ten minutes!!!  Just when you think you know your spouse...I am still laughing at that memory.

We had the joy of coming back through US Customs after we left Waterton.  Canadian Customs were a breeze--guess they want our tourist bucks.  We were in the RV line and it took at least 30 minutes (10 minutes per vehicle) just to get through.  We politely answered all their questions (of course--we're not crazy) and handed them the key to the trailer.  They confiscated my cherry tomatoes (from TJ's) because they came from Mexico.  Guess it's all right to eat them in California, but not in Montana.  We were given a list of no-no products and I had to laugh.  He didn't take my wilted green onions.  Maybe they do take the stuff home for dinner...

We stopped back in Glacier, unhooked the trailer at the Visitor's Center, took off the extra mirrors (yeah, Manskills is getting quick about this) and drove up the Going to the Sun Road to the summit at Logan Pass.  They are very restrictive about vehicles on this road.  Many years ago, Bob's mom, bless her, lost a side mirror on their motorhome trying not to graze a car on the other side.  Nowadays, she couldn't have driven the road in it.  This year set a record for the latest opening of the road due to snow.  Traffic wasn't too bad, but it was a zoo at the VC.  The snow was piled at least ten feet high and they had shoveled little paths between the drifts.  Some brave souls walked up on the ice, but I know how slippery it can be, so we opted out.  Still amazing--in thirty minutes you go from windy prairie to deep snow.

On another subject, do you know which fast food place has the most restaurants?  No, not McDonald's, we read recently.  It's Subway.  We can confirm that statistic.  We have traveled through some podunk towns and there is often no McD's, but there is a Subway--even in Canada.  Go figure.  At least, we can hope that their food is somewhat healthier.

We are definitely like the horses returning to the stable.  We have opted out of taking a more lengthy scenic route home, and are instead pretty much high-tailing it south.  We're in Spokane tonight and will wend our way home through eastern Washington and Oregon.  It's warmer here, but at least we haven't noticed any mosquitoes.  Thank goodness for small favors.

Day 21--July 11, 2011

Wow—three weeks since we left home and we’re still speaking to each other and haven’t left the dog by the side of the road…

East Glacier is definitely different than the west side.  We are told that’s because the tremendous winds dry out the vegetation.  We can attest—when we arrived three days ago, there were gusts of up to 70 mph.  Gave us some sympathy for hurricane and tornado victims who face double that.  We had to feel sorry for the poor blokes in the campground who were trying to set up tents, akin to Everest.

We continue to be astounded with the amazing vistas we are experiencing up here.  Peaks covered with patchy snow, rolling hills dotted with trees and shades of green, brilliant blue sky and white fluffy clouds—and no people!  You can be driving for miles and not see another car.  Balance those views with how many tons of snow they get for how many months and you can see why those hardy souls who live here have this place to themselves.  In addition, only about a third of all visitors stay on the east side, so we like the quiet here a lot better.

This entire area, including Glacier NP, is claimed by the Blackfeet Nation.  Their tribal headquarters is located in nearby Browning.  I am glad that the park is set aside for everyone, but I’m sure the Blackfeet got the usual raw deal in the original treaties.  To be terribly un-PC, my mother used to call me a member of the Blackfeet tribe during the summer when I would go barefoot all day and need to wash my feet before going to bed.  Considering that she had great respect for Native Americans (including a bit of Cherokee ancestry) and that my Dad brought a Mayflower voyager to the mix, I’m as much of an American mutt as you can get.

This year marks the longest wait for the Going to the Sun Road (which crosses the park) to open.  We had planned our trip for late June because of snow issues, but are missing the opening by a day.  The pavement is cleared, but there are no turn-arounds between major viewpoints.  So, as we head to Canada tomorrow, the road will open the next day.  We may swing back down here after Waterton Lakes just to drive the road to the summit.

Haven’t had any more crazy wildlife encounters, but we took a dusk drive last night and a cuddly looking black bear darted across the road just in front of us.  Good thing Manskills was driving slowly—might have had bear steaks for dinner.  Yuck.

We drove to a gorgeous lake called Many Glacier which has a beautiful Swiss-style hotel bordering the lake.  We were told that they were going to use that hotel for Jack Nicholson’s “The Shining” (that book and movie still make me shake).  However, they switched to a Colorado hotel, but used footage of him driving up from our campground to the hotel for his interview at the beginning of the movie.  I might have looked differently at the hotel we visited if it had been filmed there.  As in, I might not have gone inside.

Day 17--July 7, 2011

And the adventure continues…

We chose a less traveled road to leave Yellowstone.  As we were driving along, a pickup truck in front of us stopped, as did a car on the opposing side of the road.  We assumed that some animal was crossing.  The vehicles moved on and we found ourselves face to face with a gray wolf.  Usually the wolves here are specks on a distant hillside.  We gawked at the wolf and he (or she) slid into the trees next to the road.  Much to our shock, he walked right back out again.  I lowered my window to take photos (alas—more about that later) and he just stared back at me from about six feet away with piercing yellow eyes.  With no one behind us, Manskills moved the car slowly down the road and the wolf loped alongside of us for maybe 100 feet.  He just kept staring at me—I who was trying to handle the camera with one hand and muzzle Maggie with the other.  Mags had decided that he was a threat to our “pack” and barked her head off.  In other circumstances, well deserved.  I began to think about the short distance between him and my open window.  Not wanting to become wolf stew (me—not him), we decided to move along.  Wow.  We didn’t get a chance to talk to a ranger and find out just how rare our encounter really was.  I will never read “Little Red Riding Hood” in quite the same nonchalant way.

Note to self—pay attention to your location on July 4.  For instance, if you are staying in a campground in a little town like Deer Lodge, Montana, you need to be aware that fireworks are not only legal, but immortalized—until at least midnight—and the louder the better.  Thank goodness the Divine Miss M was oblivious.  We had to tranquilize one of our previous dogs for much less July 4th noise.

Now to the sad part of our adventure so far.  We had ventured out to a beautiful lodge on Lake MacDonald in Glacier NP.  We parked, walked around, and had lunch.  We went back to the car to get our camera and it was gone.  We went through the car with a fine-toothed comb and retraced all of our steps that day.  The only explanation that is plausible is that for once we 1)forgot to lock the car and 2)we left the camera on the console between the two front seats.  A perfect storm and one that we never let happen—except this time.  Besides losing an expensive Canon camera, we had yet to download any of our photos from Grand Teton or Yellowstone parks.  Talk about feeling sick—not to mention angry and some other expressions I can’t use here.  It is inconceivable that someone would help himself to our possession.  I guess it is a reminder to us all to be watchful.  So, you’ll just have to take our word about the wolf.

Naturally, there was a camera store here in West Glacier, so we reluctantly replaced the old Canon with a new one.  Where’s a Costco when you need one?  Oh, well.  We’ll file an insurance claim at home and perhaps get some money back.  And, we found out, Montana doesn’t have sales tax.  But the pictures—those were priceless.

Today Manskills was determined to relive our Sierra Club past and drag (er—invite) me on a hike up to Avalanche Lake.  A mere two miles, he said—one way.  Well, by the time we completed our challenge it was more like five, which isn’t much until you count in the elevation gain.  All the way in, I was concerned that I might not find any kind of comfort station at the lake.  I kept eyeing possible areas for retreating to if need be.  There weren’t many.  I nearly jumped for joy upon seeing the “Pit Toilets” sign.  Never had a pit toilet looked so good.  The lake was fabulous and well worth the walk.  On our way back, not too far beyond the famous pits and near the location that I had planned to use if needed, a couple stopped in front of us, saying that they had seen a bear uphill from the trail.  We stopped and couldn’t see anything, until a grizzly—yes, we know one when we see one—stepped across the trail about 50 feet in front of us (I could have sworn that it was 20 feet, but I can’t argue with Manskills.)  Thank goodness, he didn’t look at us or come toward us, but just ambled on down the hillside.  Yikes.  That’s about as close as I ever wish to come to one of those beasts, although we had been straining to see one our whole trip.  Be careful what you wish for.  Farther down the trail, we chatted with other hikers who told us that someone had been killed by a grizzly yesterday in Yellowstone.  How very sad, but I’m so glad that I didn’t know that before our encounter.  I might still be too shaky to type this.

Day 13--July 3, 2011

One of the joys of traveling, for us, is to find those amazing spots that we discover unexpectedly.  One of the major pains, as you who have traveled for longer periods know all too well, is doing your laundry.  You either have to pay a fortune for someone else to do it or you have to suffer through the indignities of a humid, crowded laundromat, sitting on a very uncomfortable chair, counting the minutes, and hoping that your clothes will actually be dry (and not shrunken) when your time is up.

Yesterday, we discovered the best kept secret in Yellowstone National Park.  There are great lodges here.  Old Faithful Inn is beyond compare—a multi-storied log edifice that defies imagination and always looks on the inside like Disneyland on a holiday weekend.  Lake Hotel is all yellow and white, with light oak floors and wicker furniture, and somewhat fewer people.  But, our favorite, by far, is Lake Lodge.  It’s a slightly smaller log building with killer views of Yellowstone Lake and a super comfy (and deserted) huge lobby with heavy, stuffed leather furniture and western throw rugs.

We became even more enamoured of Lake Lodge when we discovered a laundromat just off the main lobby.  It was clean and deserted.  So I brought our overweight bag of dirties to the best laundromat on the planet.  After loading up two loads, I went out into the lobby and I took my Kindle and plunked down in an extremely comfortable large leather chair (complete with ottoman) in front of a huge stone fireplace with a blazing fire and waited out my cycle.  I didn’t even have to complain when I had to run an extra cycle to finish drying our towels.  Definitely the best laundromat on the planet!  If it weren’t so far away, I’d consider a weekly visit.

An important lesson we have learned is to pay attention to generator rules.  Many RV’s have small (but extremely noisy) generators to provide them with electricity.  We use our extra batteries and our solar panels for the same thing.  Some national parks do not allow generators in certain parts of their campgrounds and some allow them for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening.  Unfortunately, our current campground allows them to run for 12 hours a day.  Imagine walking in the DooDah Parade in Pasadena with a 100 person leaf-blower precision marching team.  Maybe a slight exaggeration.  You get the idea.  Oh, well.  Next time, we’ll pay more attention to campground descriptions….

The other day we got to experience a glorious thunder storm (glorious because they’re so rare in our usual environments).  Manskills describes the sound of heavy rain on our roof as something like 1,000 castanets clacking at one time.  Incredible.  Listening to that sound inside your cozy trailer—it doesn’t get any better.  It also drowns out generators…

Day 11--July 1, 2011

July already?  Half the year gone?  Whoa. 

Due to the charming lack of internet connections, this may not get posted until next week.  We did drive 20 miles down the road to get decent cell phone coverage in order to conduct some family business. 

Everything in Yellowstone is miles apart.  Doesn’t look too far on a map, but the speed limit is 45 mph and you usually end up driving slower than that due to other tourists and “animal jams.”  We’ve thought about just pulling over and staring with binoculars into the distance to see how many other souls might join us.  Heh, heh.  Wouldn’t be surprised if many have already tried that.

We have become quite the wildlife sleuths.  Being in the right place at the right time takes on a new meaning.  You have to keep a sharp eye out and be prepared to stop quickly as you round a bend and see others staring into the bushes or out on the hillside.  We have spotted a wolf, several bears, many bison, pronghorn antelope, and elk, including one bull with a great rack.  Manskills saw a fox, he thinks, cross the road in front of us.  The incredible scenery, awesome geysers and boiling pots, and wildlife truly make Yellowstone magnificent.

The only creatures that we don’t appreciate are the tiny, winged variety.  Mosquitoes are insidious, blood-thirsty, cretan, egg-sucking sons of a one-eyed sheep (part of that curse is thanks to Twain—I don’t have anything against sheep, but I like the curse).  They have evolved into hideous tormentors that manage to bite through my socks and jeans.  I think God put them on the planet to keep us humble.  Otherwise, they are totally worthless.

The Divine Miss M continues to be an intrepid traveler.  She has adjusted and seems to enjoy her platform bed in the car.  It helps that Manskills leaves her window partly open at times—she’s in doggie heaven with all those new smells wafting in.  She managed to bark her head off at bison and elk (just big dogs to her), but, fortunately, the animals seemed to be oblivious.  She probably sounded like a gnat to them.

When we were in West Yellowstone I took Maggie on her daily constitutional in a big field behind our car.  After she deposited her gift, I seriously considered leaving it in place.  I had forgotten to bring a doggie sack and after all, it was a big field.  However, I looked up and noticed that she had chosen her spot right behind the local police station.  Thanks, Maggie.  I reluctantly walked back to the car to retrieve said sack and collect her gift.  If it hadn’t been located behind the police station, would I have bothered?  Probably—no.  I am a bad person.

We have had a couple of adventures on the same high mountain road here.  Two days ago we were driving along among snow-laden peaks.  It had been extremely windy during the drive—to the point that so much dust was kicked up from an extensive burn area, that it almost looked like another fire brewing.  It felt like the wind that precedes a huge thunderstorm.  We rounded a bend and had to stop behind a string of cars.  Looking ahead, we spied two trees that had come down in the wind and were blocking the two-lane road.  A bunch of guys got out and managed to heave the smaller tree to the side of the road.  The bigger one—a 50-foot lodgepole pine—wouldn’t budge.  Someone attached a strong strap to a pick-up truck and to the tree and he pulled the monster until it cleared one lane.  The tree refused to move after that.  So, with some guys directing traffic, we used the one lane to take turns going around the tree.  Distances on roads are so far in the park that none of the 50 or so cars on either side of the tree wanted to turn around and go back the way they had come and then detour hours to get to their original destinations.   We saw quite a few other downed trees on our way back to the Box.

We traveled on the same road yesterday and discovered the same “bear jam” that we had seen previously.  Hordes of people stop on narrow roads to gawk.  The park rangers are usually on hand to direct traffic and keep anyone from becoming dinner.  So, as we waited to pass, Manskills suggested (easier to blame him) that I get out and take a picture.  Taking my life in my hands (there were still cars passing), I crossed the road and stepped off the pavement planning to walk toward the furry guy.  The space was very narrow and slippery, so what did I do, but take a near face-plant on the slope.  I had visions of sliding down the slope to become said dinner.  I actually was more worried about the rangers chastising me for being an idiot—which would have been well-deserved.  A kindly Good Samaritan helped me back up on my feet (no easy task) and then I had to re-cross the road and literally run to catch up with my ride which had since proceeded on.  Thanks, Manskills.  Fortunately, the only thing injured was my dignity.

Regarding the license plate saga—we actually did spy Delaware and Connecticut!  Believe it or not—we also saw Hawaii—two times!  Of course, at least one of the HI licenses was on a rental car.  No, I don’t have ESP, but I overheard the driver talking to someone about finding certain controls on the vehicle and joking about having to return it to Hawaii.  Still counts.  So, we are left with little Rhode Island—not called the smallest state for nothing.  Hopefully, one of its 100 citizens will find his or her way to Glacier NP.  Or maybe we can contact a rental agency…