July 31 St. Ignace, MI
Puck didn't wake me up this morning, so I got a later start. I should have known when he didn't eat his breakfast that something was up, but I blithely put it away, packed up, and set off down a scenic windy bouncy road bordering Lake Superior. It was very pretty (and I think I may try staying in Eagle Harbor next time), but by the time I got back to the main road I was smelling something bad. And then I heard Puck trying to cover something up (he was in his nylon carrier), which I knew couldn't be good. I stopped in Calumet and found that Puck had had copious diarrhea and possibly vomited during the hour or so since we'd left. I cleaned it up (luckily the nylon is water resistant and it wiped right up) and found Puck had gone to the front of the bunk and wasn't coming down. Well, I didn't want to put him in the carrier right away, so I let him ride up there.
I stopped an hour or so later in Ishpeming, because I was worried about him having diarrhea on my bed, and found he hadn't. But I also found that Nell had vomited and defecated in her carrier! So I put her, Puck, and the big litter box in the nylon carrier (which had dried), wiped up as much of the ick as I could, and kept going. I have no idea, by the way, why this happened; I haven't changed their food, they've been drinking bottled water, and they haven't been exposed to anything. Puck I know is delicate, but Nell? I'm hoping it was the winding road. Which reminds me: I need to go hose down the carrier and the bed inside it. What fun.
It was a lovely day, other than the bodily fluid incidents. Sunny, a bit breezy, and Lake Superior was just beautiful. I stopped in Munising to get a couple of pasties (one I ate for lunch, and one I'm eating now) and headed down to Lake Michigan, which was also beautiful and somehow looked tropical! The colors of the water were similar to that of Panam City on some days, light greens and turquoises and such, although I'm sure that the water temperature was not the same!
I'm in the KOA at St. Ignace. It took several tries to find a spot level enough for my few blocks to finish the job (I really have to get more blocks!) and also allow my electric to reach the boxes. But we're in the shade, so I don't feel too bad about leaving them tomorrow here. Hopefully the stomachs will settle a bit (as I typed this Puck did a huge burp--he ate most of his wet food, and I hope it stays down!) as I go to Mackinac Island and eat and walk. There's supposed to be a line of rain/storms coming through tomorrow afternoon, but I'm going to try to get over early and see what I want to see and get home before they hit, ideally.
I've done laundry and swam (the pool was heated to the ideal temperature: cool enough to be refreshing but warm enough to be comfortable). There's some nice Canadians in the spot across the way that I was talking to at the pool; I may go over and say hi.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
On the shores of Gitchee Gumee
July 27-30 Copper Harbor, MI
Ah, the joys of relaxation. And cool breezes and drizzle and mosquitoes . . .
Tuesday I walked around town. Granted, this didn't take long; Copper Harbor is about seven blocks by three, and other than the main drag (called Gratiot--and you're a Michigander if you know how to pronounce that!) it was either private homes or motels/cottages. Lots and lots of cottages. But I did hit the tourist traps, and bought myself a necklace consisting of a hunk of local copper pretty much how it came out of the earth. Then I ate at a local restaurant that advertised pasties. Well, it was OK. It was indeed a bit dry and could have had more taste, but it wasn't bad with ketchup (I plan to stop in Munising for very tasty pasties tomorrow on the way south). Then I spent a lot of time sitting on benches by the water and reading, or laying on my couch with the cats and reading, or napping.
Wednesday I walked to the state park about a mile away. At Ft. Wilkins they have many buildings from the 1840's (and others that were reconstructed by the CCC during the Depression) showing what life was like while the fort was garrisoned (it was created to keep order during the big copper rush in the late 1840's here, and while it closed after three years it was temporarily reopened after the Civil War, mostly to give veterans something to do). There are also living history people around, answering questions and doing chores and suchlike. As an actor, I feel really weird about living history people; I'm not sure why, but I often find it difficult to go along with the program, particularly when the people involved are really young. These were students from Northern Michigan U, and they did quite well. So I wandered around the fort and read up on how they lived, then walked along the lake and looked at the various lighthouses that have been around since the 1840's and such. And then I came back and read and napped . . . you see the pattern.
Today dawned rather nasty (as had yesterday, although it had cleared up quickly then), and while I had thought about going to Isle Royale for the day, the weather dissuaded me. So I walked around town some more, chatted with the lady running the old-time General Store (as well as buying some local chocolate), and sat by the lake and read until it began to rain, then came back and sat on the couch and--oh hell, you know the drill by now. I did clean the bathroom today, and plan to clean the kitchen after dinner. I've read three books since I got here, and am halfway through the fourth (and these aren't small books).
I've got a lead on a place to live in Panama City; it's in a complex where I've seriously considered buying a unit, so this may kill two birds with one stone. If so, I may get back into town a few days earlier than I had planned, to get mostly moved before school starts. Hey, at least I don't have that much to move anymore! I still plan to go to Mackinac City on Saturday; the weather looks like it will mostly cooperate. But then I may just head straight home. We'll see; I've certainly changed my mind enough times on this trip, who knows?
Ah, the joys of relaxation. And cool breezes and drizzle and mosquitoes . . .
Tuesday I walked around town. Granted, this didn't take long; Copper Harbor is about seven blocks by three, and other than the main drag (called Gratiot--and you're a Michigander if you know how to pronounce that!) it was either private homes or motels/cottages. Lots and lots of cottages. But I did hit the tourist traps, and bought myself a necklace consisting of a hunk of local copper pretty much how it came out of the earth. Then I ate at a local restaurant that advertised pasties. Well, it was OK. It was indeed a bit dry and could have had more taste, but it wasn't bad with ketchup (I plan to stop in Munising for very tasty pasties tomorrow on the way south). Then I spent a lot of time sitting on benches by the water and reading, or laying on my couch with the cats and reading, or napping.
Wednesday I walked to the state park about a mile away. At Ft. Wilkins they have many buildings from the 1840's (and others that were reconstructed by the CCC during the Depression) showing what life was like while the fort was garrisoned (it was created to keep order during the big copper rush in the late 1840's here, and while it closed after three years it was temporarily reopened after the Civil War, mostly to give veterans something to do). There are also living history people around, answering questions and doing chores and suchlike. As an actor, I feel really weird about living history people; I'm not sure why, but I often find it difficult to go along with the program, particularly when the people involved are really young. These were students from Northern Michigan U, and they did quite well. So I wandered around the fort and read up on how they lived, then walked along the lake and looked at the various lighthouses that have been around since the 1840's and such. And then I came back and read and napped . . . you see the pattern.
Today dawned rather nasty (as had yesterday, although it had cleared up quickly then), and while I had thought about going to Isle Royale for the day, the weather dissuaded me. So I walked around town some more, chatted with the lady running the old-time General Store (as well as buying some local chocolate), and sat by the lake and read until it began to rain, then came back and sat on the couch and--oh hell, you know the drill by now. I did clean the bathroom today, and plan to clean the kitchen after dinner. I've read three books since I got here, and am halfway through the fourth (and these aren't small books).
I've got a lead on a place to live in Panama City; it's in a complex where I've seriously considered buying a unit, so this may kill two birds with one stone. If so, I may get back into town a few days earlier than I had planned, to get mostly moved before school starts. Hey, at least I don't have that much to move anymore! I still plan to go to Mackinac City on Saturday; the weather looks like it will mostly cooperate. But then I may just head straight home. We'll see; I've certainly changed my mind enough times on this trip, who knows?
Monday, July 27, 2009
On to the Northland!
July 26 Red Cliff, WI
This morning I got up with the sun, as usual, and headed out around 8am. I knew I had to get gas fairly soon, and also that I wanted to stop at a WalMart or similar store to stock up on provisions. I headed north on I-35 and stopped in Faribault (which is also where my homeward path crossed the outward one--the great circle tour has become a figure eight!). It was early enough that even though the sun was out in force I felt OK about leaving the cats in the RV (with various vents open), and headed in. I bought lots of stuff, much of which I actually needed, as well as a huge half-sandwich for breakfast. After loading everything into the RV (which was fun, given that I couldn't use the side door (since Puck's kennel was there!) and had to load everything through the driver's side door and back through the narrow passage around the slide), I filled up with diesel and headed out. Into more construction.
Minnesota likes to crowd both directions of interstate into one side of the road, so there are two lanes of traffic whizzing past each other. Which direction crosses over seems to alternate. Luckily the traffic wasn't too bad. There wasn't any construction around St. Paul, although I took the truck route alternate anyway, but I don't like driving on interstates. Since I'm not going fast, it seems like everyone is driving like an idiot and the road surface is usually rutted and there's nothing to see. So, once past the Twin Cities, I headed out onto a secondary road. The road surface continued to be bad until (I'm not kidding here) I crossed into Wisconsin. Then it got better pretty much immediately, which was good because I was tired of ka-THUMP ka-THUMP ka-THUMP ka-BANGBANGBANG CLATTER THUMP. And I feel good only going 55 or so on the secondary roads, and the scenery is much better.
So I meandered up toward Superior (both the town and the lake). Lots of trees and hills, and places called "Moose Junction". Superior (the town) was having a county fair, and I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to find a place to stay. The town itself really looks like what it is: a down-at-the-heels steeltown/port that isn't really rebounding yet. Lots of old buildings, roads all chopped up, with no way to get near the water since that's where the industry is.
I headed east out of town on Rt. 2, turned off at the campground I was going to stay at, and decided to keep going. I know that trees in a campground are a nuisance, since the roots get into everything and the branches/leaves/limbs are annoying, but I didn't drive up to the Northwoods to stay at a campground with dust billowing through it. I found myself on the road through a peninsula headed toward the Apostle islands, and kept going. A really lovely area, it looks something like Prince Edward Island without the red soil: lots of farms and trees and hills, with glimpses of blue Lake Superior in the distance. I didn't stop at any of the rest areas along the lake, because it was getting late and I don't like to keep the cats imprisoned any longer than I have to.
I drove past the Buffalo Bay campground and had to turn around. It's on an Indian reservation, and is both a bustling marina and a campground on a hill just above the lake. Let me emphasize "hill". The bad thing about having a small RV is that it's very difficult to make level (which you need to do for the refrigerator and such to work correctly). I tried four different campsites before I found one that I could handle, since it only required blocks under the front wheels. It had a bit of a view, and was backing up to the hill, but I was really tired and was glad to have it.
Across the street was the requisite Indian casino. It looked a bit rough, but I headed over anyway since I heard there was a restaurant and that the casino gave anyone staying at the campground $10 in free dollar tokens. Well, once I walked in and smelled the ingrained cigarette smoke I knew I wasn't going to eat there, but I did get my free $10. I then futzed around the casino a bit, since I didn't want to just get the coins and then trade them in immediately for cash, and I actually won another dollar on a 2-cent machine (don't ask me how; it looked like the thing had a grand-mal seizure, asked me to resuscitate it, and then gave me a dollar), so I was $11 ahead.
Then back to the campground, a shower, a bit of sudoku, and sleep.
July 27 Copper Harbor, MI
I slept really, really well last night. I think I woke up once and that was it. Puck of course woke me up at the crack of dawn, though I did take a nap after I had fed them and dressed and everything (have I mentioned how much I love having a couch and a dinette and a bed all separate from one another? I love my couch!). I still managed to set off at 8am CT (which tells you how early Puck got me up).
I drove through some lovely little towns on the way back to route 2. They looked a lot like New England/Maritimes towns, built on a hill around a harbor, lots of lovely architecture and such. Route 2, on the other hand, was pretty much like an interstate, with nothing to see. Once into Michigan I turned off on the road to the Keewanau Peninsula, and then took a side road to look at the lake and oh--construction! I wanted to stop in Houghton to get lunch and gas, but I didn't turn off right away when I saw a gas station and then ran into construction, so I kept going. Over the Keewanau canal, back up into the hills (the town across from Houghton has a SWITCH-BACKED main road--damn, I haven't run into a switchback since Montana!), still looking for gas (or lunch) but not finding any. The road was quite scenic, particularly the part right before Copper Harbor: the trees were right next to the road, the road was windy and up hill/down dale, and if I hadn't been driving a beheamoth and watching out for deer (a doe with fawn crossed right in front of me) I would have enjoyed it more. At least the weather was cooperating: sunny and around 72.
I finally drove into Copper Harbor, which is tiny. Really tiny. I went to the state park (easy to find, since the highway dead-ends there) and checked in. Turns out that not only do I have to pay $8 for an entry permit for the park, I have to pay $8 A DAY, even if I don't move the RV. Which made me grumpy; suddenly a fairly reasonable campground is damn expensive. Then I find my site. I had picked it out on the internet because it was the only one that didn't say anything about being on a hill. Which, as it turns out, it was. When I had the rig parked in the appropriate spot, it was tilted rather dramatically--more dramatically than my few levelling blocks could fix. If I parked it sideways across the site, it fit, but then I couldn't use the electric and I suspect the park ranger would get grumpy about me parking all over the grass. I tried and tried to make it fit and then, realizing there was a better deal, called the local RV resort to see if they had room. They did. So I packed back up (including dumping BOTH cats into the small hard-sided carrier, since it would be a short trip and I couldn't be bothered to get Puck's kennel set up) and went back to the park office and asked for a refund--which they nicely gave me, except for the nonrefundable deposit. I even got tonight's money back! Then I trooped over to the Lake Fanny Hooe (yes, that's its real name) RV resort, and got a spot. Again, it took me four tries to find one that fit, but now we're in a nice sunny spot (which shouldn't be a problem, if the weather does what they say it will) which is pretty level. And even after losing the deposit, I'll be paying less to stay here than at the state park--and here I have WiFi!
The cats are VERY glad to be here, as am I; I'm ready to stay put for a while. We're here four nights, which should be a good time, and I'm already almost halfway through a book I started at dinner. Which I ate at the Harbor Haus, which is supposed to be THE place to eat here. I didn't realize quite how bad I looked when I went in (it had been a long day, and I sweated a lot while finding a spot and walking), but the waitress seated me anyway with a lovely view of the lake. I had whitefish wrapped in bacon which had been cooked on a plank (which was really damn tasty) with mushroom risotto, mixed veggies and a huge salad, and someday I may be hungry again. The sun is just setting, the odor of wood fires is wafting everywhere (come on breeze!), I have WiFi, and a fluffy cat is curled up next to me--life is good.
This morning I got up with the sun, as usual, and headed out around 8am. I knew I had to get gas fairly soon, and also that I wanted to stop at a WalMart or similar store to stock up on provisions. I headed north on I-35 and stopped in Faribault (which is also where my homeward path crossed the outward one--the great circle tour has become a figure eight!). It was early enough that even though the sun was out in force I felt OK about leaving the cats in the RV (with various vents open), and headed in. I bought lots of stuff, much of which I actually needed, as well as a huge half-sandwich for breakfast. After loading everything into the RV (which was fun, given that I couldn't use the side door (since Puck's kennel was there!) and had to load everything through the driver's side door and back through the narrow passage around the slide), I filled up with diesel and headed out. Into more construction.
Minnesota likes to crowd both directions of interstate into one side of the road, so there are two lanes of traffic whizzing past each other. Which direction crosses over seems to alternate. Luckily the traffic wasn't too bad. There wasn't any construction around St. Paul, although I took the truck route alternate anyway, but I don't like driving on interstates. Since I'm not going fast, it seems like everyone is driving like an idiot and the road surface is usually rutted and there's nothing to see. So, once past the Twin Cities, I headed out onto a secondary road. The road surface continued to be bad until (I'm not kidding here) I crossed into Wisconsin. Then it got better pretty much immediately, which was good because I was tired of ka-THUMP ka-THUMP ka-THUMP ka-BANGBANGBANG CLATTER THUMP. And I feel good only going 55 or so on the secondary roads, and the scenery is much better.
So I meandered up toward Superior (both the town and the lake). Lots of trees and hills, and places called "Moose Junction". Superior (the town) was having a county fair, and I was really worried that I wouldn't be able to find a place to stay. The town itself really looks like what it is: a down-at-the-heels steeltown/port that isn't really rebounding yet. Lots of old buildings, roads all chopped up, with no way to get near the water since that's where the industry is.
I headed east out of town on Rt. 2, turned off at the campground I was going to stay at, and decided to keep going. I know that trees in a campground are a nuisance, since the roots get into everything and the branches/leaves/limbs are annoying, but I didn't drive up to the Northwoods to stay at a campground with dust billowing through it. I found myself on the road through a peninsula headed toward the Apostle islands, and kept going. A really lovely area, it looks something like Prince Edward Island without the red soil: lots of farms and trees and hills, with glimpses of blue Lake Superior in the distance. I didn't stop at any of the rest areas along the lake, because it was getting late and I don't like to keep the cats imprisoned any longer than I have to.
I drove past the Buffalo Bay campground and had to turn around. It's on an Indian reservation, and is both a bustling marina and a campground on a hill just above the lake. Let me emphasize "hill". The bad thing about having a small RV is that it's very difficult to make level (which you need to do for the refrigerator and such to work correctly). I tried four different campsites before I found one that I could handle, since it only required blocks under the front wheels. It had a bit of a view, and was backing up to the hill, but I was really tired and was glad to have it.
Across the street was the requisite Indian casino. It looked a bit rough, but I headed over anyway since I heard there was a restaurant and that the casino gave anyone staying at the campground $10 in free dollar tokens. Well, once I walked in and smelled the ingrained cigarette smoke I knew I wasn't going to eat there, but I did get my free $10. I then futzed around the casino a bit, since I didn't want to just get the coins and then trade them in immediately for cash, and I actually won another dollar on a 2-cent machine (don't ask me how; it looked like the thing had a grand-mal seizure, asked me to resuscitate it, and then gave me a dollar), so I was $11 ahead.
Then back to the campground, a shower, a bit of sudoku, and sleep.
July 27 Copper Harbor, MI
I slept really, really well last night. I think I woke up once and that was it. Puck of course woke me up at the crack of dawn, though I did take a nap after I had fed them and dressed and everything (have I mentioned how much I love having a couch and a dinette and a bed all separate from one another? I love my couch!). I still managed to set off at 8am CT (which tells you how early Puck got me up).
I drove through some lovely little towns on the way back to route 2. They looked a lot like New England/Maritimes towns, built on a hill around a harbor, lots of lovely architecture and such. Route 2, on the other hand, was pretty much like an interstate, with nothing to see. Once into Michigan I turned off on the road to the Keewanau Peninsula, and then took a side road to look at the lake and oh--construction! I wanted to stop in Houghton to get lunch and gas, but I didn't turn off right away when I saw a gas station and then ran into construction, so I kept going. Over the Keewanau canal, back up into the hills (the town across from Houghton has a SWITCH-BACKED main road--damn, I haven't run into a switchback since Montana!), still looking for gas (or lunch) but not finding any. The road was quite scenic, particularly the part right before Copper Harbor: the trees were right next to the road, the road was windy and up hill/down dale, and if I hadn't been driving a beheamoth and watching out for deer (a doe with fawn crossed right in front of me) I would have enjoyed it more. At least the weather was cooperating: sunny and around 72.
I finally drove into Copper Harbor, which is tiny. Really tiny. I went to the state park (easy to find, since the highway dead-ends there) and checked in. Turns out that not only do I have to pay $8 for an entry permit for the park, I have to pay $8 A DAY, even if I don't move the RV. Which made me grumpy; suddenly a fairly reasonable campground is damn expensive. Then I find my site. I had picked it out on the internet because it was the only one that didn't say anything about being on a hill. Which, as it turns out, it was. When I had the rig parked in the appropriate spot, it was tilted rather dramatically--more dramatically than my few levelling blocks could fix. If I parked it sideways across the site, it fit, but then I couldn't use the electric and I suspect the park ranger would get grumpy about me parking all over the grass. I tried and tried to make it fit and then, realizing there was a better deal, called the local RV resort to see if they had room. They did. So I packed back up (including dumping BOTH cats into the small hard-sided carrier, since it would be a short trip and I couldn't be bothered to get Puck's kennel set up) and went back to the park office and asked for a refund--which they nicely gave me, except for the nonrefundable deposit. I even got tonight's money back! Then I trooped over to the Lake Fanny Hooe (yes, that's its real name) RV resort, and got a spot. Again, it took me four tries to find one that fit, but now we're in a nice sunny spot (which shouldn't be a problem, if the weather does what they say it will) which is pretty level. And even after losing the deposit, I'll be paying less to stay here than at the state park--and here I have WiFi!
The cats are VERY glad to be here, as am I; I'm ready to stay put for a while. We're here four nights, which should be a good time, and I'm already almost halfway through a book I started at dinner. Which I ate at the Harbor Haus, which is supposed to be THE place to eat here. I didn't realize quite how bad I looked when I went in (it had been a long day, and I sweated a lot while finding a spot and walking), but the waitress seated me anyway with a lovely view of the lake. I had whitefish wrapped in bacon which had been cooked on a plank (which was really damn tasty) with mushroom risotto, mixed veggies and a huge salad, and someday I may be hungry again. The sun is just setting, the odor of wood fires is wafting everywhere (come on breeze!), I have WiFi, and a fluffy cat is curled up next to me--life is good.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Not much to say
Today I drove from Belvidere SD to Albert Lea, MN on I-90. Not tremendously exciting, no tourist stuff, so here is a list of random things I thought about today.
1. If you don't want flies around your car, clean off the dead bugs.
2. No matter how early you get up, someone will be up earlier and will be using the shower.
(well, not me--I was up at 6am local time, and yes the showers were full but I showered last night!)
3. If you're driving across SD on 90, stop at the Chamberlain rest area--lots of great Lewis and Clark stuff as well as great views.
4. The worst construction will always be when you're tired.
5. The radio station will always go to static when you can't spare a hand to look for another channel.
6. Always lock your door, even when you think you're securely closed it.
(after lunch I noticed the side door was rattling, which worried me since Puck's kennel kind of rests against it--it was indeed ajar, with the deadbolt the only thing holding it closed--I now wonder if someone at the truck stop I got lunch at tried to open the door?)
7. Everything old is new again--and not in a good way.
(I was in the store when a family came in who is living out of a tent, their car pulling a small trailer piled high with all of their belongings, looking for work--turns out it's a young couple with three kids, none over about 4 years old--they're looking for work, and are off to Ohio or Texas tomorrow--I guess the Okies have returned)
8. Always have at least a day's supply of drinking water on hand.
(I actually learned this in London, where much of the water is nasty-tasting--my current campground has egg water, which I hate, but I did fill up my jug last night where the water was OK, so I don't have to buy water tonight)
9. It will always take longer to get where you're going than you think it will.
10. Changing your mind mid-stream can be fun!
(after five nights in/around Copper Harbor, I'm going to spend a day at Mackinac Island, where I've never been--should be fun, if it's not pouring rain!)
1. If you don't want flies around your car, clean off the dead bugs.
2. No matter how early you get up, someone will be up earlier and will be using the shower.
(well, not me--I was up at 6am local time, and yes the showers were full but I showered last night!)
3. If you're driving across SD on 90, stop at the Chamberlain rest area--lots of great Lewis and Clark stuff as well as great views.
4. The worst construction will always be when you're tired.
5. The radio station will always go to static when you can't spare a hand to look for another channel.
6. Always lock your door, even when you think you're securely closed it.
(after lunch I noticed the side door was rattling, which worried me since Puck's kennel kind of rests against it--it was indeed ajar, with the deadbolt the only thing holding it closed--I now wonder if someone at the truck stop I got lunch at tried to open the door?)
7. Everything old is new again--and not in a good way.
(I was in the store when a family came in who is living out of a tent, their car pulling a small trailer piled high with all of their belongings, looking for work--turns out it's a young couple with three kids, none over about 4 years old--they're looking for work, and are off to Ohio or Texas tomorrow--I guess the Okies have returned)
8. Always have at least a day's supply of drinking water on hand.
(I actually learned this in London, where much of the water is nasty-tasting--my current campground has egg water, which I hate, but I did fill up my jug last night where the water was OK, so I don't have to buy water tonight)
9. It will always take longer to get where you're going than you think it will.
10. Changing your mind mid-stream can be fun!
(after five nights in/around Copper Harbor, I'm going to spend a day at Mackinac Island, where I've never been--should be fun, if it's not pouring rain!)
Eastward ho!
July 24 Belvidere/Midland, SD
Y'know, I think there are more flies in Douglas, SD, than in Florida. I got five flies in here just by quickly getting in and out of the RV. I've killed one, Puck has gotten two (judging from the dismembered parts I can find), and the remaining two are demoralized and on the run. Hopefully.
Also, the water at the Douglas KOA is probably the most chlorinated I've ever encountered. Not only wasn't it drinkable, but showering in it was not pleasant either. Good thing I still had water left from Dubois.
I left fairly early, got diesel and headed southeast. As part of this change of trip I had decided to go see the Oregon trail ruts and Register Cliff in Guernsey. The interstate was skirting what would be the last Rocky Mountain I'd see on this trip, and the Oregon Trail kept crossing the road (and if you knew where it was, you could still see where it ran). When I got to Guernsey it turned out the ruts were down a very (appropriately?) rutted dirt road that shook hell out of my rig and made me think my wheels were going to fall off again. Ouch. Then a fairly steep walk.
The wagons had to get over a hill here, which was made of soft stone. The wagons eventually wore a five-foot-deep, six-foot-wide and fairly long groove in the soft stone. You can see where the wheels went, where the hubs of the wheels scored the walls, and even where people walked. It was a bit eerie, to tell the truth; when I was standing in the middle of the ruts, I had the strangest feeling that I should get out of the way!
A few miles away, many of the 500,000 immigrants had carved their names in another soft cliff, and many of the names are still visible. Also at Register Cliff, there had been a Pony Express stop--it had never really occurred to me that the Pony Express followed the Oregon Trail (and then the California trail) on its way, with stops every 10-12 miles to change horses.
Actually there are four trails: Oregon Trail, California Trail (for the 49'ers), Mormon Trail, and Pony Express trail. They overlap a lot up until Fort Bridger in far southwest Wyoming, and then split to go their separate ways.
After Guernsey, the sightseeing for this part was over. I took a very secondary (but paved) road up to the main-ish route to the Black Hills, and went from foothills to plains in just that long. On the way up to the Black Hills, towns were few and far between: gotta love a sign that says "Next services 81 miles".
It was south of the Black Hills that two climatological things occured: it started to get cooler/cloudy, and the wind picked up. Way up. The same front that was cooling things down was making it really windy. So I didn't stop anywhere in the Black Hills--I was pretty much in "just keep going" mode, at least in part because there aren't that many campgrounds here and I wanted to make sure I got a spot--and I also didn't stop in Wall. It had warmed up and looked crowded and I was tired, so.
I stopped in the KOA east of Belvedire. Other than the famed 1880's Town!, famed in song, story, and "Dances with Wolves", there is nothing within sight here. Not towns, not trees, not nothing except for cows and the Interstate over there. The campground has a few small trees/shrubs, but I'd hate to be here when it's really hot. Hence, I'm continuing east. I hope to get to Minnesota today, or wherever, and then up to the UP of Michigan. It's supposed to be cool and maybe a bit rainy--yay moisture!
Y'know, I think there are more flies in Douglas, SD, than in Florida. I got five flies in here just by quickly getting in and out of the RV. I've killed one, Puck has gotten two (judging from the dismembered parts I can find), and the remaining two are demoralized and on the run. Hopefully.
Also, the water at the Douglas KOA is probably the most chlorinated I've ever encountered. Not only wasn't it drinkable, but showering in it was not pleasant either. Good thing I still had water left from Dubois.
I left fairly early, got diesel and headed southeast. As part of this change of trip I had decided to go see the Oregon trail ruts and Register Cliff in Guernsey. The interstate was skirting what would be the last Rocky Mountain I'd see on this trip, and the Oregon Trail kept crossing the road (and if you knew where it was, you could still see where it ran). When I got to Guernsey it turned out the ruts were down a very (appropriately?) rutted dirt road that shook hell out of my rig and made me think my wheels were going to fall off again. Ouch. Then a fairly steep walk.
The wagons had to get over a hill here, which was made of soft stone. The wagons eventually wore a five-foot-deep, six-foot-wide and fairly long groove in the soft stone. You can see where the wheels went, where the hubs of the wheels scored the walls, and even where people walked. It was a bit eerie, to tell the truth; when I was standing in the middle of the ruts, I had the strangest feeling that I should get out of the way!
A few miles away, many of the 500,000 immigrants had carved their names in another soft cliff, and many of the names are still visible. Also at Register Cliff, there had been a Pony Express stop--it had never really occurred to me that the Pony Express followed the Oregon Trail (and then the California trail) on its way, with stops every 10-12 miles to change horses.
Actually there are four trails: Oregon Trail, California Trail (for the 49'ers), Mormon Trail, and Pony Express trail. They overlap a lot up until Fort Bridger in far southwest Wyoming, and then split to go their separate ways.
After Guernsey, the sightseeing for this part was over. I took a very secondary (but paved) road up to the main-ish route to the Black Hills, and went from foothills to plains in just that long. On the way up to the Black Hills, towns were few and far between: gotta love a sign that says "Next services 81 miles".
It was south of the Black Hills that two climatological things occured: it started to get cooler/cloudy, and the wind picked up. Way up. The same front that was cooling things down was making it really windy. So I didn't stop anywhere in the Black Hills--I was pretty much in "just keep going" mode, at least in part because there aren't that many campgrounds here and I wanted to make sure I got a spot--and I also didn't stop in Wall. It had warmed up and looked crowded and I was tired, so.
I stopped in the KOA east of Belvedire. Other than the famed 1880's Town!, famed in song, story, and "Dances with Wolves", there is nothing within sight here. Not towns, not trees, not nothing except for cows and the Interstate over there. The campground has a few small trees/shrubs, but I'd hate to be here when it's really hot. Hence, I'm continuing east. I hope to get to Minnesota today, or wherever, and then up to the UP of Michigan. It's supposed to be cool and maybe a bit rainy--yay moisture!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Different direction
Douglas, WY
So I got fed up with being always dehydrated and hot and such, and decided to go east instead of south. So Nell got me up at 6:30 (who needs a clock?) and I left around 8am and headed to Ft. Washakie, on the Wind River Indian Reservation. Some say that Sacajawea is buried there, having lived to a very old age. That is, if she didn't die young in South Dakota, as others believe. I did find her headstone, and there's also a statue of her (well-decorated by admirers, as were many of the graves in this dry hilly cemetery).
I then got back on the road and headed to South Pass. Unlike most of the continental divide passes, this one is in a wide valley. You go up and up and up the valley, with no snow-capped mountains in site, and then all of a sudden you're across. It's not a low pass (7600 feet or so), but it is easily approached with wagons. I went up to the top and turned around and headed east.
Highway 287 (and later 220) follows the Oregon trail. There are signs indicating where the Trail crosses the highway, and in many places you can see a depression where all the wagons and people travelled. I stopped at a few landmarks for the travellers, most notably Independence Rock, which may have been covered with the carved signatures of migrants but looked to me more like it was covered by lichen. Because it was hot I didn't stay too long (the rig is pretty well insulated and I had had the air conditioning on, but there are limits to everything) and headed to Casper, and then to Douglas. Still sunny, still dry, although there were a few showers here and there (with most of the rain not reaching the ground), still very barren.
I'm tired of barren. So I've decided to go to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for the last week or so before I have to be back in Florida. It will indeed be cool and green and shady there, and maybe I won't have to drink a gallon of water a day to avoid dehydration. And they have mountains, of a sort anyway.
I'm in the KOA. Nice, even if the spot isn't quite level or shady. There sure seem to be a lot of long-term people here; lots have built foundations of a sort around the bottoms of their rigs, for storage and whatnot, or actual stairs to get in, or have dog pens and whatnot. I will say, it's interesting how these rural Wyoming campgrounds all have horse corrals for travellers. I know with horses you have to let them out a certain number of hours a day, and I always wondered where they did so. Apparently, in campgrounds! The pool was nice, if covered with wayward grasshoppers (the cemetery was FULL of them!).
Tomorrow it's off to Oregon Trail wagon ruts, the Black Hills, and maybe Wall Drug! I've already seen two Wall Drug signs, and expect to see many more.
So I got fed up with being always dehydrated and hot and such, and decided to go east instead of south. So Nell got me up at 6:30 (who needs a clock?) and I left around 8am and headed to Ft. Washakie, on the Wind River Indian Reservation. Some say that Sacajawea is buried there, having lived to a very old age. That is, if she didn't die young in South Dakota, as others believe. I did find her headstone, and there's also a statue of her (well-decorated by admirers, as were many of the graves in this dry hilly cemetery).
I then got back on the road and headed to South Pass. Unlike most of the continental divide passes, this one is in a wide valley. You go up and up and up the valley, with no snow-capped mountains in site, and then all of a sudden you're across. It's not a low pass (7600 feet or so), but it is easily approached with wagons. I went up to the top and turned around and headed east.
Highway 287 (and later 220) follows the Oregon trail. There are signs indicating where the Trail crosses the highway, and in many places you can see a depression where all the wagons and people travelled. I stopped at a few landmarks for the travellers, most notably Independence Rock, which may have been covered with the carved signatures of migrants but looked to me more like it was covered by lichen. Because it was hot I didn't stay too long (the rig is pretty well insulated and I had had the air conditioning on, but there are limits to everything) and headed to Casper, and then to Douglas. Still sunny, still dry, although there were a few showers here and there (with most of the rain not reaching the ground), still very barren.
I'm tired of barren. So I've decided to go to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan for the last week or so before I have to be back in Florida. It will indeed be cool and green and shady there, and maybe I won't have to drink a gallon of water a day to avoid dehydration. And they have mountains, of a sort anyway.
I'm in the KOA. Nice, even if the spot isn't quite level or shady. There sure seem to be a lot of long-term people here; lots have built foundations of a sort around the bottoms of their rigs, for storage and whatnot, or actual stairs to get in, or have dog pens and whatnot. I will say, it's interesting how these rural Wyoming campgrounds all have horse corrals for travellers. I know with horses you have to let them out a certain number of hours a day, and I always wondered where they did so. Apparently, in campgrounds! The pool was nice, if covered with wayward grasshoppers (the cemetery was FULL of them!).
Tomorrow it's off to Oregon Trail wagon ruts, the Black Hills, and maybe Wall Drug! I've already seen two Wall Drug signs, and expect to see many more.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Yet another day in Dubois
I didn't sleep well and was tired, so now I'm still here. I will definitely be leaving tomorrow, but there's one problem: the only RV parks in northern mountainous Colorado, where I planned to spend the next week or so, are either crap or full or deathly expensive. So I'm mulling over whether to bag it for another trip and head east instead. Stay tuned!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Just chillin' in Dubois
As much as one can chill in 80-degree weather, anyway. I decided to stay on an extra day, and moved to what might be the nicest campsite yet: shady, backing up to the Wind River, so I can hear a little creek fall into the river. I may stay yet another night, since I spent today walking and swimming and doing laundry and not "relaxing" as much as I could. Hey, it's a tough life . . . .
I suspect once I leave, it's going to be hotter than hell for a while (I'm actually in one of the cooler sections of the state, due mostly to it's altitude (over 6000 feet), so I'm enjoying it while it lasts. The prior people left some firewood, so I may try incinerating some hot dogs I bought, if I can get a fire going.
By the way, I feel much less negative about putting Nell in her kennel for travel. Since I was just moving from one site to another, I didn't pen up the cats. But I found that Nell chose to go into her kennel of her own free will; I really think she feels safer there. Puck, of course, decided to hang out ON TOP OF THE SLIDE. Let's just say it's a good thing I checked to see where he was before I extended the slide!
I suspect once I leave, it's going to be hotter than hell for a while (I'm actually in one of the cooler sections of the state, due mostly to it's altitude (over 6000 feet), so I'm enjoying it while it lasts. The prior people left some firewood, so I may try incinerating some hot dogs I bought, if I can get a fire going.
By the way, I feel much less negative about putting Nell in her kennel for travel. Since I was just moving from one site to another, I didn't pen up the cats. But I found that Nell chose to go into her kennel of her own free will; I really think she feels safer there. Puck, of course, decided to hang out ON TOP OF THE SLIDE. Let's just say it's a good thing I checked to see where he was before I extended the slide!
Monday, July 20, 2009
I hate construction. I really do.
July 20 Dubois, WY
Long day. Very long day. Even without the traffic and construction. Which sure as hell didn't help.
Slept well, although I had to pen Puck in the kennel since he was chewing on things he shouldn't be chewing on, so he spent part of the night alone. Then when I let him out he curled up against my stomach, which made me feel quite guilty.
We left around 8am. Nevada City is a gold-rush town made up of buildings that have been moved here from elsewhere, conserved, and created a little town that's been used in some movies. It's also closed off unless you pay money, so I just looked in from outside. Virginia City (the first territorial capital of Montana) is a bit more open and original. There's a main street with historical plaques on pretty much every building. It was still too early for anything to be open, but I don't need to buy anything anyway and I again walked up and down the street and read everything. It was nice to see the Opera House that a friend of mine worked at for a summer, but I don't know what the hell he did in his free time, because there's NOTHING here.
I then drove through Ennis and up the Madison River. There were flyfishermen everywhere, since the Madison River is apparently one of the big-time fly fishing streams anywhere. They were in boats and in the river itself, trying like mad to catch something. I stayed on the road and wound up in the 1959 earthquake area, where I stopped at the Visitor's Center. After a 7.3 earthquake, the whole side of a mountain avalanched down the slope and halfway up the other side, killing lots of people and blocking the road (and the river) for a good long time. I mostly remember it because of a book we bought back on the 1975 trip: The Night the Mountain Fell. Which they still sell at the gift store. I'm not sure what it is with me and national park disasters: my favorite Glacier book is of course "Night of the Grizzlies", and I loved the Grand Canyon books that told all of the gruesome/horrible/stupid ways people have died there. Hmmm.
I then drove to West Yellowstone. I had decided to see if there were any campgrounds open, but since it was noon they were all full, so I just drove. Lots of traffic, not many animals (I did see an elk, and a deer tried to commit suicide in front of my rig later), and I didn't get to see much. I tried, but there was rarely parking open for my RV, which is a downside. I did get to see the Black Sand Geyser basin, and saw some hot pools and a little geyser that tried hard. I also ran into huge traffic backups before the Fountain Paint Pots, which gave me a chance to eat my (very expensive) sub sandwich from West Yellowstone.
In case you're wondering, I've discovered what your stimulus dollars are doing: road construction in Wyoming. Not only was there construction between Yellowstone and Grand Teton, but there was more construction on US 287. It was all of the "we had to destroy the road to save it" variety: ripped up asphalt, corregated bouncy dirt, lots of lovely gravel, narrow lanes, cliff edges, and in the second case following a pilot car for about 10 miles (including up to the highest pass I may have ever driven over: Togwotee pass, 9658 feet above sea level). I am so tired right now. If you asked me what the Grand Tetons look like, I'm not sure I could tell you. I wanted to stay at Colter Bay, but it was completely full. I'm now at the KOA in Dubois, which I was hoping would be wooded and cool and moist, and is not. But I do have a fairly-level spot, with full utilities including cable (I need some TV). I suppose it's nice here, but I'm really really needing someplace cool and green and shady around now, and I don't think there is any. The campground does back up to the Wind River, and I'm going to go wade in it a bit and hope I feel better before I take a shower and collapse.
And I'm not sure the cats like me anymore. They were in their kennels for a whole lot longer than I intended, and Nell in particular is not particularly forgiving. I hope I can catch her tomorrow to put her in her crate. I'm hoping to have a short day tomorrow, and then stay a couple of days somewhere, but we shall see. At least she's letting me pet her; I guess that's something.
Long day. Very long day. Even without the traffic and construction. Which sure as hell didn't help.
Slept well, although I had to pen Puck in the kennel since he was chewing on things he shouldn't be chewing on, so he spent part of the night alone. Then when I let him out he curled up against my stomach, which made me feel quite guilty.
We left around 8am. Nevada City is a gold-rush town made up of buildings that have been moved here from elsewhere, conserved, and created a little town that's been used in some movies. It's also closed off unless you pay money, so I just looked in from outside. Virginia City (the first territorial capital of Montana) is a bit more open and original. There's a main street with historical plaques on pretty much every building. It was still too early for anything to be open, but I don't need to buy anything anyway and I again walked up and down the street and read everything. It was nice to see the Opera House that a friend of mine worked at for a summer, but I don't know what the hell he did in his free time, because there's NOTHING here.
I then drove through Ennis and up the Madison River. There were flyfishermen everywhere, since the Madison River is apparently one of the big-time fly fishing streams anywhere. They were in boats and in the river itself, trying like mad to catch something. I stayed on the road and wound up in the 1959 earthquake area, where I stopped at the Visitor's Center. After a 7.3 earthquake, the whole side of a mountain avalanched down the slope and halfway up the other side, killing lots of people and blocking the road (and the river) for a good long time. I mostly remember it because of a book we bought back on the 1975 trip: The Night the Mountain Fell. Which they still sell at the gift store. I'm not sure what it is with me and national park disasters: my favorite Glacier book is of course "Night of the Grizzlies", and I loved the Grand Canyon books that told all of the gruesome/horrible/stupid ways people have died there. Hmmm.
I then drove to West Yellowstone. I had decided to see if there were any campgrounds open, but since it was noon they were all full, so I just drove. Lots of traffic, not many animals (I did see an elk, and a deer tried to commit suicide in front of my rig later), and I didn't get to see much. I tried, but there was rarely parking open for my RV, which is a downside. I did get to see the Black Sand Geyser basin, and saw some hot pools and a little geyser that tried hard. I also ran into huge traffic backups before the Fountain Paint Pots, which gave me a chance to eat my (very expensive) sub sandwich from West Yellowstone.
In case you're wondering, I've discovered what your stimulus dollars are doing: road construction in Wyoming. Not only was there construction between Yellowstone and Grand Teton, but there was more construction on US 287. It was all of the "we had to destroy the road to save it" variety: ripped up asphalt, corregated bouncy dirt, lots of lovely gravel, narrow lanes, cliff edges, and in the second case following a pilot car for about 10 miles (including up to the highest pass I may have ever driven over: Togwotee pass, 9658 feet above sea level). I am so tired right now. If you asked me what the Grand Tetons look like, I'm not sure I could tell you. I wanted to stay at Colter Bay, but it was completely full. I'm now at the KOA in Dubois, which I was hoping would be wooded and cool and moist, and is not. But I do have a fairly-level spot, with full utilities including cable (I need some TV). I suppose it's nice here, but I'm really really needing someplace cool and green and shady around now, and I don't think there is any. The campground does back up to the Wind River, and I'm going to go wade in it a bit and hope I feel better before I take a shower and collapse.
And I'm not sure the cats like me anymore. They were in their kennels for a whole lot longer than I intended, and Nell in particular is not particularly forgiving. I hope I can catch her tomorrow to put her in her crate. I'm hoping to have a short day tomorrow, and then stay a couple of days somewhere, but we shall see. At least she's letting me pet her; I guess that's something.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Did you miss me?
July 18
It's been quite a while, and I have been remiss in keeping this up. So I'm going to catch you up, perhaps with a bit less detail than you might have got otherwise (which may be a good thing, after all!).
I left Lethbridge on Thursday the 9th, heading through Cardston (very nice town, with a huge Mormon temple that you can't go near unless you're Mormon) down to Glacier Park. For those familiar with the area, I took the Duck Lake road instead of the usual route (I couldn't go over Sun Road, and didn't want to go over Kiowa road or go down the switchbacks of the Hudson Bay divide), and it did turn out to be a good choice. Going through Customs was easy, although the inspector did want to see my registration and he also came in and took a look to make sure I wasn't smuggling anyone (he also looked in the fridge, presumably to see if I was lying about the food I'd brought back, and he commented on a plate of cookies that Mom had made--I offered him one, but I guess that would be a bribe so he refused). The weather had been drizzly and cloudy, with the odd sunny break, but I still stopped at Marias Pass to check out all the statuary (I had forgotten how unlike most mountain passes Marias is--it just looked like a flat spot in the road). It started to rain in earnest about 10 miles from West Glacier, which didn't stop the residents from driving like idiots. I stopped at the Glacier Highland for lunch (including huckleberry pie, which was delicious), then off to Apgar.
The campground there is huge and wooded with pine trees. I circled a couple of times before picking a nice little level-ish pull-through, which allowed me to use the fridge without much fuss. I let the cats out of their travel kennels and they had a great time looking and listening and smelling. I spent the rest of the day wandering over to Apgar village, doing a bit of shopping and checking out the lake between rain.
The next day was lovely, weather-wise. I had decided to do a horseback ride, and took a shuttle to Lake McDonald (the park has begun running bus-like shuttles along Going-To-The-Sun Road to relieve congestion, and they're great--I'd just take a shuttle wherever I wanted to go, and only had to wait once when a shuttle was full). It turns out I was the only person going on this two-hour ride, but since they don't have minimums I had my own private tour. They put me on a big dark horse called Rock, which I was hoping was for his temperament but seemed to be more like his intelligence. Getting up on him was interesting (getting down even more so), but my guide Brandon was quite fun to talk to. Although I could have done with Rock decided not to walk, deciding to eat instead, or walking WAY on the side of the trail, which was particularly fun when we were descending to cross the creek. But the real fun was going through a tunnel under Sun Road. Brandon's horse, Casper, was a bit antsy and decided to freak out when a car went over the road. Because Casper freaked, Rock did too, decided to buck once and whirl around to get away from the "danger". Well, I hung on, but we were still in the tunnel when he whirled and I scraped hell out of the fingers of my right hand (which were holding the reins--the left hand was holding on for dear life to the saddle!), but I did manage to get him to stop before we hit the creek. After we both calmed down, we turned around and continued. Quite memorable! Although once was enough!
After the ride I wanted to do something more quiet, so after cleaning my injuries at Lake McDonald Lodge I took the boat ride. The lake was smooth as it ever gets, and the ride was lovely except maybe for the small child who was obsessed with Bigfoot and was all over the place loudly looking for him, much to the amusement of his doting parents. Me, not so much. Then back to Apgar and more reading and relaxing (and the occasional nap).
On Saturday, I took the early shuttle up to Logan Pass. It was great to sit in the front passenger seat (there is an advantage to traveling alone!), where I could look straight down at times. Then again, it did freak me out a bit, but still. At the pass I was going to go to the Hidden Lake Overlook, and was trudging up the boardwalk (with two marmots showing off which allowed me to stop and rest a bit while watching them), until I noticed that to get to the top I'd have to go up a very steep snowfield. Well, I'd had enough problems going up the not-so-steep snowfields on the path (they were actually slush fields and were very slippery), and I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned around. Not everyone was so smart; apparently a bit later in the day someone destroyed their ankle on this snowfield and had to be carried down and evacuated by rangers. Sometimes I make the right decisions!
I took another shuttle down the east side to St. Mary. I then walked to Highway 89, looking for the Park Cafe. The big problem was, I didn't really remember where it was. Luckily I headed in the right direction and had a quite delicious lunch (boysenberry pie this time!) before waddling back to the visitors center. I had thought about taking another short hike or two, but they all seemed to be straight up or straight down, so I just headed back to Apgar and sat with the kitties. I did go to a ranger talk about geology that night, and it actually managed to get me interested in rocks! I also discovered that there were huckleberry bushes growing in the campground, so I grabbed some dessert.
I did want to do a hike, and had heard that the Avalanche Creek hike was a good one to try, and since I don't really want to hike alone in the bear-infested wilderness, I decided to go on a ranger-led hike that Sunday morning. Turns out the ranger had just accepted a permanent job at Cape Hatteras, so we had a lot to talk about. I did well on the hike as long as we stopped a lot to talk about whatever, but flagged quite a bit at the end. It didn't help that a bear had been spotted that morning up at Avalanche Lake, being a bit too curious about hikers. So I spent a lot of time hollering (which the ranger admired, since she couldn't holler that loud herself) at intervals, to let the bear know we were coming--well, us and the hordes of other people who were doing this "easy" hike (bah--if this was an easy hike I'd hate to see a hard one!). Avalanche lake was indeed lovely, with streams of water falling down near-sheer cliffs to join the lake, but I decided to hike back down with the ranger, who said she was planning on going easy since she had bad knees herself (as do I). A guy who was working the summer driving jammers joined us, and we gimped down the mountain only to find that there was a bear down there too, who had apparently sauntered onto the trail and used the trail bridge to cross Avalanche Creek before disappearing into the woods. So I hollered some more, and was very glad to reach the road intact. I caught a shuttle to Lake McDonald and had a bison burger to celebrate my achievement/survival (bison is flavored much differently than beef, but it was still good). Then it was (you guessed it) back to Apgar to stick my poor feet into the lake and read. While I didn't see a bear, I did see a moose along the road (he'd been there for a couple of days, and the ranger who was doing the hike had been late because she had to deal with the resulting "moose jam" of people stopped on the road to see the moose. And I also saw a bus of teenaged guys from Mississippi who were staying at the Apgar Lodge arrive, dump their things in their rooms, and then go swimming en masse. I don't believe they had ever encountered water quite this cold, and the yelling was very impressive.
The next morning, it was raining again as I headed out. Once I got past Columbia Falls, it rained so hard that I actually had to stop right outside of Bigfork because I couldn't see the road anymore. Luckily there was a gas station with a huge lot, so I just parked a bit (as did the RV travelling behind me) until I could see again. Not only heavy rain, but also thunder and lightning! The wind was too bad, although there were whitecaps on Flathead Lake, which seemed a bit odd.
The rain tapered off and I actually saw a bit of the Mission Mountains, which was nice. There was some serious construction all the way from Arlee to Evaro Hill, and I was glad I wasn't too tired and had took my time (they seem to be widening the road as well as installing wildlife tunnels underneath), but I got to Missoula OK.
I stayed at the Missoula KOA, which used to be way out on the edge of nowhere but now is practically in the middle of town--I do believe that they've built up all the valley floor, which is a bit astonishing. I got a nice spot with some shade, and took advantage of the laundry as well as the no-kids-allowed hot tubs a bit. My parents met me that night and we did the usual Missoula stuff: eat at the Mo Club and the Shack and the Bagel Place, hang out at the University (I got to talk for a while to my advisor who I hadn't seen in a long time), wander downtown, drive around, etc. No bars hit other than the Mo Club, but you can't have everything. I also got to go to an Out to Lunch at Caras Park, which was swarming with people as there was an International Choral Festival in town this week, so lots of singing (ah, culture!). I also sterilized my RV water tanks (which takes a lot longer than one would think), so now I'm not too afraid about using the water, since I know where it's been and how old it is.
And yes, the inevitable happened: Puck fell off the over-cab bunk. He was trying to wake me up the last morning in Missoula, using the "I love you so much!" method, which involves rubbing against me with great vigor. Since rubbing his side on my face didn't work (other than me sputtering and turning over), he decided to rub against my legs, which unfortunately were close to the edge. I felt him fling himself at my legs, heard a scramble and then a thud. By the time I pivoted to look over the edge (I can't sit up in the bunk), he was sitting up and shaking his head. Before I could worry too much, he jumped back on the dinette and then onto the bunk, to see if I was getting up. He seems OK, though he's limping a bit (I can imagine he'd be a bit stiff after that) and he's MUCH more careful about the edge!
Yesterday I headed out, but not too far; it was supposed to be around 100 in Missoula today, so I wanted to get somewhere cooler, and figured going up was the key. I'm currently in a Forest Service campground in the Lolo National Forest. It's been about 92 today, which is better than 100, but still very hot. No hookups, so I don't have air conditioning or electricity and such, but it was so dark (millions of stars!) and so quiet last night, I slept like a log. I did wake up twice because my neighbors were clapping, presumably to warn the bears that they were on their way to the outhouses (no running water either) and to go away. Nobody got eaten, so that's good. I was going to do a nature hike, but there are no pamphlets left to tell me what I'm looking at, so I mostly just read and put my feet in the creek and read some more and took the occasional nap.
Wow, lots of motorcycles; they've been going up and down the road like crazy and a bunch just pulled in. Guess the campground will be fuller tonight! I'm rather bummed I didn't get a streamside spot (there are only three that are of any use to RV's), because it's cooler there as well as having nice sound effects, but oh well; I've a nice level spot on the hill above. I just wish it'd cool off a bit.
July 19
Well, it did cool down eventually, although it was still hot when I tried to go to sleep at 10pm. I did manage to fall asleep, and slept quite well once I did. Puck woke me up at about 5am, so I put him in the kennel and went back to bed. I was eventually woken up by the motorcycles leaving at 6:45am--five Harleys make quite a lot of noise! I left about an hour later and went up to Lolo Pass. There's quite the visitor center there now, along with a winter warming hut for the skiers. Unfortunately, it didn't open until 9am Pacific Time, and I didn't want to wait around, so I left and headed back to the Bitterroot Valley, then south. While I didn't stop at Lolo Hot Springs (when it's 90, a hot spring rather loses its appeal), it sure does look huge! A hotel, a casino, a restaurant, a bar, all along with the hot springs buildings.
Much of Highway 93 through the Bitterroot is now four-lane, and I got to take my time. Visibility wasn't what it could be; I wasn't sure whether the haze was smoke from various fires or just general humidity and pollution (Missoula was hazy too). Hamilton has grown quite a bit as well from what I remember it. Headed up to Lost Trail Pass was quite steep, though I did find a lovely campground right on the Bitterroot River in the mountains that I'll stay at next time.
Again, the road was four-lane for the steepest part, so I just plugged along (I did go faster than a truck with a homemade trailer though--we're not the slowest on the road!). After crossing into Idaho for a bit it was back to Montana and the Big Hole Valley. I'm glad, on the way down, that I had brushed up on downshifting in an automatic vehicle; it turns out that the Glacier vans were also built on Sprinter chassis, and I watched the drivers downshift and upshift all along Sun Road.
The Big Hole Battlefield is set in one of the few oases in a very, very dry area. I went to the Vistor's Center for a few minutes, and then walked to the battlefield itself. While I didn't spend a lot of time (I was a bit worried about the cats getting too hot in the RV in the sun) I did spot the remnants of some trenches that had been dug back in 1877 by soldiers. The battle was because a band of Nez Perce Indians refused to go to the reservation set aside for them in Idaho and were headed peacefully to Canada to throw themselves on the mercy of the Queen. Well, the US wasn't happy about that, both because of the disobeying orders and because the authorities were worried about the natives rampaging (which they weren't doing--most were non-warriors, lots of women and children and the elderly--all they wanted was to be left alone, but after the Little Big Horn battle the year before, that wasn't going to happen). The soldiers attacked first, then the Indians fought back (maybe to allow the surviving noncombatants to escape). You know a place gets little rain if trenches dug in a woods more than 130 years ago are still visible!
I left the battlefield and headed onward. The town of Wisdom is perhaps best known as one of the coldest places in the lower 48 in winter, and I can see why--a flat plain, dry as a bone, at about 6000 feet elevation with mountains surrounding it. Yeah, cold. Not today though; today it was hot. I headed south toward Dillon, past Jackson Hot Springs (basically a wide spot in the road with a hotel/bar/hot spring) and past Bannock (near which the RV set a new speed record--72 mph, down hill but still) and eventually to Dillon, where I filled up with diesel.
North of Dillon I passed Beaverhead Rock, which was a landmark that Sacajawea recognized as indicating that her homeland was to the west. It really does look a bit like a swimming beaver, from some angles using a bit of imagination. I went through Twin Bridges, and now I'm in at a KOA near Virginia City. Very nice people run it, but otherwise I'm not impressed--my site isn't level, it only has 15amp electricity (which means I can run the A/C or the refrigerator or the microwave, but only one at a time--I have the fridge running on propane), no pool (sigh), and very few trees. My outside thermometer says it's 97 in the shade, and I believe it.
Unfortunately, most of my rig is in the sun, and even though I have the A/C on high it's still 87 degrees in here. I don't think I'm going to be able to live in this RV in Panama City during hot weather; the A/C sounds like a wind turbine and is shaking the rig with its running, but it's not very efficient. Hopefully I can find a nice efficiency to rent until May or something. I'll worry about that later; I have both a month reservation at a campground as well as two weeks reserved at the state park in Panama City, and I'll decide which to cancel soon. Meanwhile, I really hope it cools down--I hate this weather! Come on, rain!
And while it says that it has WiFi here, I've connected to the network once, it vanished almost immediately. I went to the office and asked them to poke it, it came up, I tried to post this, it crashed again. Ye gods. Let's hope the third time's the charm. And I hear thunder!
It's been quite a while, and I have been remiss in keeping this up. So I'm going to catch you up, perhaps with a bit less detail than you might have got otherwise (which may be a good thing, after all!).
I left Lethbridge on Thursday the 9th, heading through Cardston (very nice town, with a huge Mormon temple that you can't go near unless you're Mormon) down to Glacier Park. For those familiar with the area, I took the Duck Lake road instead of the usual route (I couldn't go over Sun Road, and didn't want to go over Kiowa road or go down the switchbacks of the Hudson Bay divide), and it did turn out to be a good choice. Going through Customs was easy, although the inspector did want to see my registration and he also came in and took a look to make sure I wasn't smuggling anyone (he also looked in the fridge, presumably to see if I was lying about the food I'd brought back, and he commented on a plate of cookies that Mom had made--I offered him one, but I guess that would be a bribe so he refused). The weather had been drizzly and cloudy, with the odd sunny break, but I still stopped at Marias Pass to check out all the statuary (I had forgotten how unlike most mountain passes Marias is--it just looked like a flat spot in the road). It started to rain in earnest about 10 miles from West Glacier, which didn't stop the residents from driving like idiots. I stopped at the Glacier Highland for lunch (including huckleberry pie, which was delicious), then off to Apgar.
The campground there is huge and wooded with pine trees. I circled a couple of times before picking a nice little level-ish pull-through, which allowed me to use the fridge without much fuss. I let the cats out of their travel kennels and they had a great time looking and listening and smelling. I spent the rest of the day wandering over to Apgar village, doing a bit of shopping and checking out the lake between rain.
The next day was lovely, weather-wise. I had decided to do a horseback ride, and took a shuttle to Lake McDonald (the park has begun running bus-like shuttles along Going-To-The-Sun Road to relieve congestion, and they're great--I'd just take a shuttle wherever I wanted to go, and only had to wait once when a shuttle was full). It turns out I was the only person going on this two-hour ride, but since they don't have minimums I had my own private tour. They put me on a big dark horse called Rock, which I was hoping was for his temperament but seemed to be more like his intelligence. Getting up on him was interesting (getting down even more so), but my guide Brandon was quite fun to talk to. Although I could have done with Rock decided not to walk, deciding to eat instead, or walking WAY on the side of the trail, which was particularly fun when we were descending to cross the creek. But the real fun was going through a tunnel under Sun Road. Brandon's horse, Casper, was a bit antsy and decided to freak out when a car went over the road. Because Casper freaked, Rock did too, decided to buck once and whirl around to get away from the "danger". Well, I hung on, but we were still in the tunnel when he whirled and I scraped hell out of the fingers of my right hand (which were holding the reins--the left hand was holding on for dear life to the saddle!), but I did manage to get him to stop before we hit the creek. After we both calmed down, we turned around and continued. Quite memorable! Although once was enough!
After the ride I wanted to do something more quiet, so after cleaning my injuries at Lake McDonald Lodge I took the boat ride. The lake was smooth as it ever gets, and the ride was lovely except maybe for the small child who was obsessed with Bigfoot and was all over the place loudly looking for him, much to the amusement of his doting parents. Me, not so much. Then back to Apgar and more reading and relaxing (and the occasional nap).
On Saturday, I took the early shuttle up to Logan Pass. It was great to sit in the front passenger seat (there is an advantage to traveling alone!), where I could look straight down at times. Then again, it did freak me out a bit, but still. At the pass I was going to go to the Hidden Lake Overlook, and was trudging up the boardwalk (with two marmots showing off which allowed me to stop and rest a bit while watching them), until I noticed that to get to the top I'd have to go up a very steep snowfield. Well, I'd had enough problems going up the not-so-steep snowfields on the path (they were actually slush fields and were very slippery), and I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and turned around. Not everyone was so smart; apparently a bit later in the day someone destroyed their ankle on this snowfield and had to be carried down and evacuated by rangers. Sometimes I make the right decisions!
I took another shuttle down the east side to St. Mary. I then walked to Highway 89, looking for the Park Cafe. The big problem was, I didn't really remember where it was. Luckily I headed in the right direction and had a quite delicious lunch (boysenberry pie this time!) before waddling back to the visitors center. I had thought about taking another short hike or two, but they all seemed to be straight up or straight down, so I just headed back to Apgar and sat with the kitties. I did go to a ranger talk about geology that night, and it actually managed to get me interested in rocks! I also discovered that there were huckleberry bushes growing in the campground, so I grabbed some dessert.
I did want to do a hike, and had heard that the Avalanche Creek hike was a good one to try, and since I don't really want to hike alone in the bear-infested wilderness, I decided to go on a ranger-led hike that Sunday morning. Turns out the ranger had just accepted a permanent job at Cape Hatteras, so we had a lot to talk about. I did well on the hike as long as we stopped a lot to talk about whatever, but flagged quite a bit at the end. It didn't help that a bear had been spotted that morning up at Avalanche Lake, being a bit too curious about hikers. So I spent a lot of time hollering (which the ranger admired, since she couldn't holler that loud herself) at intervals, to let the bear know we were coming--well, us and the hordes of other people who were doing this "easy" hike (bah--if this was an easy hike I'd hate to see a hard one!). Avalanche lake was indeed lovely, with streams of water falling down near-sheer cliffs to join the lake, but I decided to hike back down with the ranger, who said she was planning on going easy since she had bad knees herself (as do I). A guy who was working the summer driving jammers joined us, and we gimped down the mountain only to find that there was a bear down there too, who had apparently sauntered onto the trail and used the trail bridge to cross Avalanche Creek before disappearing into the woods. So I hollered some more, and was very glad to reach the road intact. I caught a shuttle to Lake McDonald and had a bison burger to celebrate my achievement/survival (bison is flavored much differently than beef, but it was still good). Then it was (you guessed it) back to Apgar to stick my poor feet into the lake and read. While I didn't see a bear, I did see a moose along the road (he'd been there for a couple of days, and the ranger who was doing the hike had been late because she had to deal with the resulting "moose jam" of people stopped on the road to see the moose. And I also saw a bus of teenaged guys from Mississippi who were staying at the Apgar Lodge arrive, dump their things in their rooms, and then go swimming en masse. I don't believe they had ever encountered water quite this cold, and the yelling was very impressive.
The next morning, it was raining again as I headed out. Once I got past Columbia Falls, it rained so hard that I actually had to stop right outside of Bigfork because I couldn't see the road anymore. Luckily there was a gas station with a huge lot, so I just parked a bit (as did the RV travelling behind me) until I could see again. Not only heavy rain, but also thunder and lightning! The wind was too bad, although there were whitecaps on Flathead Lake, which seemed a bit odd.
The rain tapered off and I actually saw a bit of the Mission Mountains, which was nice. There was some serious construction all the way from Arlee to Evaro Hill, and I was glad I wasn't too tired and had took my time (they seem to be widening the road as well as installing wildlife tunnels underneath), but I got to Missoula OK.
I stayed at the Missoula KOA, which used to be way out on the edge of nowhere but now is practically in the middle of town--I do believe that they've built up all the valley floor, which is a bit astonishing. I got a nice spot with some shade, and took advantage of the laundry as well as the no-kids-allowed hot tubs a bit. My parents met me that night and we did the usual Missoula stuff: eat at the Mo Club and the Shack and the Bagel Place, hang out at the University (I got to talk for a while to my advisor who I hadn't seen in a long time), wander downtown, drive around, etc. No bars hit other than the Mo Club, but you can't have everything. I also got to go to an Out to Lunch at Caras Park, which was swarming with people as there was an International Choral Festival in town this week, so lots of singing (ah, culture!). I also sterilized my RV water tanks (which takes a lot longer than one would think), so now I'm not too afraid about using the water, since I know where it's been and how old it is.
And yes, the inevitable happened: Puck fell off the over-cab bunk. He was trying to wake me up the last morning in Missoula, using the "I love you so much!" method, which involves rubbing against me with great vigor. Since rubbing his side on my face didn't work (other than me sputtering and turning over), he decided to rub against my legs, which unfortunately were close to the edge. I felt him fling himself at my legs, heard a scramble and then a thud. By the time I pivoted to look over the edge (I can't sit up in the bunk), he was sitting up and shaking his head. Before I could worry too much, he jumped back on the dinette and then onto the bunk, to see if I was getting up. He seems OK, though he's limping a bit (I can imagine he'd be a bit stiff after that) and he's MUCH more careful about the edge!
Yesterday I headed out, but not too far; it was supposed to be around 100 in Missoula today, so I wanted to get somewhere cooler, and figured going up was the key. I'm currently in a Forest Service campground in the Lolo National Forest. It's been about 92 today, which is better than 100, but still very hot. No hookups, so I don't have air conditioning or electricity and such, but it was so dark (millions of stars!) and so quiet last night, I slept like a log. I did wake up twice because my neighbors were clapping, presumably to warn the bears that they were on their way to the outhouses (no running water either) and to go away. Nobody got eaten, so that's good. I was going to do a nature hike, but there are no pamphlets left to tell me what I'm looking at, so I mostly just read and put my feet in the creek and read some more and took the occasional nap.
Wow, lots of motorcycles; they've been going up and down the road like crazy and a bunch just pulled in. Guess the campground will be fuller tonight! I'm rather bummed I didn't get a streamside spot (there are only three that are of any use to RV's), because it's cooler there as well as having nice sound effects, but oh well; I've a nice level spot on the hill above. I just wish it'd cool off a bit.
July 19
Well, it did cool down eventually, although it was still hot when I tried to go to sleep at 10pm. I did manage to fall asleep, and slept quite well once I did. Puck woke me up at about 5am, so I put him in the kennel and went back to bed. I was eventually woken up by the motorcycles leaving at 6:45am--five Harleys make quite a lot of noise! I left about an hour later and went up to Lolo Pass. There's quite the visitor center there now, along with a winter warming hut for the skiers. Unfortunately, it didn't open until 9am Pacific Time, and I didn't want to wait around, so I left and headed back to the Bitterroot Valley, then south. While I didn't stop at Lolo Hot Springs (when it's 90, a hot spring rather loses its appeal), it sure does look huge! A hotel, a casino, a restaurant, a bar, all along with the hot springs buildings.
Much of Highway 93 through the Bitterroot is now four-lane, and I got to take my time. Visibility wasn't what it could be; I wasn't sure whether the haze was smoke from various fires or just general humidity and pollution (Missoula was hazy too). Hamilton has grown quite a bit as well from what I remember it. Headed up to Lost Trail Pass was quite steep, though I did find a lovely campground right on the Bitterroot River in the mountains that I'll stay at next time.
Again, the road was four-lane for the steepest part, so I just plugged along (I did go faster than a truck with a homemade trailer though--we're not the slowest on the road!). After crossing into Idaho for a bit it was back to Montana and the Big Hole Valley. I'm glad, on the way down, that I had brushed up on downshifting in an automatic vehicle; it turns out that the Glacier vans were also built on Sprinter chassis, and I watched the drivers downshift and upshift all along Sun Road.
The Big Hole Battlefield is set in one of the few oases in a very, very dry area. I went to the Vistor's Center for a few minutes, and then walked to the battlefield itself. While I didn't spend a lot of time (I was a bit worried about the cats getting too hot in the RV in the sun) I did spot the remnants of some trenches that had been dug back in 1877 by soldiers. The battle was because a band of Nez Perce Indians refused to go to the reservation set aside for them in Idaho and were headed peacefully to Canada to throw themselves on the mercy of the Queen. Well, the US wasn't happy about that, both because of the disobeying orders and because the authorities were worried about the natives rampaging (which they weren't doing--most were non-warriors, lots of women and children and the elderly--all they wanted was to be left alone, but after the Little Big Horn battle the year before, that wasn't going to happen). The soldiers attacked first, then the Indians fought back (maybe to allow the surviving noncombatants to escape). You know a place gets little rain if trenches dug in a woods more than 130 years ago are still visible!
I left the battlefield and headed onward. The town of Wisdom is perhaps best known as one of the coldest places in the lower 48 in winter, and I can see why--a flat plain, dry as a bone, at about 6000 feet elevation with mountains surrounding it. Yeah, cold. Not today though; today it was hot. I headed south toward Dillon, past Jackson Hot Springs (basically a wide spot in the road with a hotel/bar/hot spring) and past Bannock (near which the RV set a new speed record--72 mph, down hill but still) and eventually to Dillon, where I filled up with diesel.
North of Dillon I passed Beaverhead Rock, which was a landmark that Sacajawea recognized as indicating that her homeland was to the west. It really does look a bit like a swimming beaver, from some angles using a bit of imagination. I went through Twin Bridges, and now I'm in at a KOA near Virginia City. Very nice people run it, but otherwise I'm not impressed--my site isn't level, it only has 15amp electricity (which means I can run the A/C or the refrigerator or the microwave, but only one at a time--I have the fridge running on propane), no pool (sigh), and very few trees. My outside thermometer says it's 97 in the shade, and I believe it.
Unfortunately, most of my rig is in the sun, and even though I have the A/C on high it's still 87 degrees in here. I don't think I'm going to be able to live in this RV in Panama City during hot weather; the A/C sounds like a wind turbine and is shaking the rig with its running, but it's not very efficient. Hopefully I can find a nice efficiency to rent until May or something. I'll worry about that later; I have both a month reservation at a campground as well as two weeks reserved at the state park in Panama City, and I'll decide which to cancel soon. Meanwhile, I really hope it cools down--I hate this weather! Come on, rain!
And while it says that it has WiFi here, I've connected to the network once, it vanished almost immediately. I went to the office and asked them to poke it, it came up, I tried to post this, it crashed again. Ye gods. Let's hope the third time's the charm. And I hear thunder!
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