July 06

July 31 Back to the Family History Library today for another round of searching for the seemingly impossible to find, smile. One thing that is amazing is the inherent beauty of this valley. As we walk down the hill to East 9000 South, it is spreads out before us, but with a different view than when we walk down the hill towards State Street when returning to the RV park in the evening. This morning the valley roof was covered with clouds, the mountains to the west distorted in the slight haze that permeated the sky, the Mystery in the morning rumble of traffic providing an ersatz musical background as we walked along, talking about what facts we might uncover today. We negotiated the intersection of 9000 South and State Street and began to climb the hill to the TRAX station. Near the top of the hill we turned around and paused for a moment taken in the feelings the valley imparted. What would those early Mormons think if they could see the same view we were? Would they be pleased, displeased, awe struck, mystified or would they just shrug their shoulders and get on with life? What about the ancestors Linda and I would be searching for today. They were real people, what would they think of us digging into their lives, trying to not simply know who they were, also trying to find out what, when, why and how of who they were. Someday it will probably happen to all of us. I wonder how that person will look at me.

The family History Library is five floors of information. It is far, far more than just names, it is history that you can make come alive. Of course there are books, stacks and stacks of books, but there are also microfilms, hundreds of thousands of microfilms. The cabinets that hold them seem to go on and on, almost disappearing into the distance.

What secrets hid in these barren rows

Then there are the computers. Here is a cameo photo of a researcher hard at work sitting at a computer terminal, lol. It was I had no idea she had taken this picture purported that one of my great grandfathers on my mothers side had come to America as as young man, returned to Europe, married, then brought his family to America. There is so much information available it is hard to sort it all out. From earlier research I knew he had actually started for America with his family, then due to an advanced pregnancy, they had aborted the trip in England returning to the continent where the baby, a girl named Lina was born. A few months later they left a second time for America, this time successfully completing the voyage. This morning I was successful in identifying the voyage he took as a young man of 22. It was one of those moments that makes the untold hours of frustration worthwhile. Another piece of the puzzle was in place, smile.

All work and no play can make us yean for something else. Today, at noon, we actually took a break, meeting Chris for lunch at Lambs, which is one of the oldest and best lunch places in Salt Lake City. We can't speak to eating any other meals there, but if they are any where near as good as lunch, you can't go wrong. Linda had lasagna while I enjoyed blackened snapper. Two radically types of food, both done the way each of us likes them. We spent a wonderful hour talking with Chris and realizing just how unique the life we live really is because it is the life almost everyone we meet would also like to live, smile.

Sometimes there is humor in what we do. Several days ago I had spent hours and hours reading through early New England town records in search of a third great grandfather of mine who seems to magically appear out of thin air. I found no information about him, but I did learn what life must have been like in the towns of early New England and I can most assuredly assure you that the crap you see on TV and in movies bares no resemblance to what actually transpired. Today it was Linda's turn to uncover the past and walking back from lunch she asked me if I had read about the cows and the homeless problem. Indeed I had. It seems that early New England towns had some of the same problems we have today, plus a few others that have, how shall we put it, become obsolete. The records So where did they all come from? are filled with discussions about what to do with paupers. The amount of money spent on them was a burden to the taxpayers. Different ideas to solve the problem were presented during the town meetings, but it seemed like the problem just wouldn't go away. The general consensus was these people would never support themselves as long as the taxpayers would, yet a vocal minority of towspeople always prevented simply cutting off aid to the leeches. Sounds just like modern times, lol. The other side of the coin was the cow problem. The town was inundated with stray cows, Just read the accompanying photo excerpt from the town records of Leicester about the problem they were having in the early 1700's with stray cows. And you think you've got problems, lol.

We returned to the coach at sunset, just in time to record how pretty it was.

If you open your eyes, do you see, or do you just look

The excitement of the discoveries of the day had put a temporary If only we had known then what we know now crimp in our hunger plans, so we took stock of our clothing. As is no doubt the case with nearly everyone who embarks on the same journey of adventure we did, there were far too many clothes which were brought along. To bring things into better alignment with reality, we purged the closet. It turned out that at least a third of what we had brought was going back and it wasn't going to be replace with anything else. There is simply no way of knowing what to bring on an adventure such as this, you do your best and adjust from there, lol. The closet held more than just clothes and soon enough we had accumulated a pile at the front of the coach. I think the Explorer is going to be full when we return to the house, lol.

Dinner was cooked under the stars, or at least we hoped there were stars up in the heavens. Unfortunately the clouds put a barrier between them and us, so we had to be content with enjoying just dinner, rather than dinner and the view. I must say that we do eat good, but then again, you no doubt already know that, smile. Grilled marinated pork loin, sweet potato salad, corn on the cob and tossed salad was a very special treat tonight. May your days be filled with the discovery of the new and different, the old and familiar so that your heart may go to bed as happy as ours.

Yes, we do eat like this every day

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July 30 This is a day for surprises. Not surprises for Linda or I, today we are the surpriser's, some very dear old friends who we haven't seen for years are the surprise's. In my life I have done many things that I would classify as out of the ordinary. For example, have you ever been the business manager of a radio station or MC'ed a church talent show dressed in a bikini, now you can say you know a man who has. Or how about you ladies, how many of you have had Senator Ted Kennedy, or any United States Senator for that matter, place both of his hands on your body? Linda has, and it was back when the Senator was called Teddy and he was a Why did they just take my picture? handsome 35 year old. But one of my finest moments was in a more serious vein. Nearly 20 years ago I had the honor to give the "charge" to a good friend named Neal as he was ordained a Presbyterian minister. This morning we planned to show up, unannounced at Neal's church, Westminister Presbyterian in Fruit Heights. They had 3 services, first was a traditional/contemporary blended service, next was a traditional service and lastly was their contemporary service. It wasn't even a choice as far as we were concerned as to which service to attend, contemporary all the way. We arrived early and got to hear the praise band practice all the songsthey would be singing. They were our kind of songs. We laughed as Neal would occasionally look at us with one of those, I know I know you, but I don't know who you are, looks. And we sure weren't going to tell, lol.

We were sitting up front, singing the opening song when we were attacked. With a shriek followed by much hugging, Neal's wife, Chris had recognized us. It was one of those very, very special moments. Oblivious to what was going on around us, we luxuriated in the pure joy of sharing our friendship and companionship with each other. Chris is the epitome of beauty and vivaciousness, while Neal is truly a "Renaissance Man." As Chris and Linda were hugging I looked up at Neal and and got the finger point and smiling shake of the Godd times, great friends, wonderful memories head that meant he now also knew who we were. It was one of those absolutely priceless moments. Of course, after the songs Neal said he was going to do something he hardly ever does and asked us to stand while he spoke of his past connection to us. The sermon was filled with humor and challenge, same old Neal, smile. If you're near Kaysvlle, Utah on a Sunday morning and are looking for a Presbyterian Church, Westminister on South Mountain Road in Fruit Heights isthe place. Later we lunched at a Mexican restaurant, catching up on the happenings of lives, plus the news of all our kids and grandkids, while constantly commenting on the great times we had shared. Then it was time to say goodbye, but not before making plans to have lunch with Chris in downtown SLC tomorrow. To know the link with the past. To experience the connection of being human. The joy of life. The spirit of individuality. The adventure goes on and on.

Lest I forget there had been another surprise this morning. I had awakened this morning to the sound of rain. While normally not a concern, today it was, because, for some reason, while laying there in bed I made the connection with the sound of rain and the fact I had not closed the bay door after grilling our turkey burgers last night. Things had gotten a little damp, but since we were in a hurry to get up to Kaysville, I had just pushed the Joey Bed back in and closed the door. Now it was time to see what had transpired. The first thing that struck me was the amount of water. The second thing that struck me was that it wasn't from the few sprinkles of rain we had. No, it was from the sprinklers for the tiny little patch of grass beside the coach. That was what you might call, not a good sign. Actually it turned out to be not so bad after all. Sure, some things got wet and ye,s some were slightly damaged, but it wasn't like it was the end of the world or anything. The final result was a spotlessly clean bay and the some joking with the neighbors about the what and why of our having stuff piled everywhere outside the coach. Since we were in the cleaning mode, I also cleaned up the battery compartment and performed the monthly battery maintenance check, all was as it should be. I am amazed at how little water the batteries use, plus the only corrosion was a little bit where the solar charge lead is attached. While I was at it I cleaned the inverter compartment which had aquired a coating of dust from all the gravel roads we had to put up with back in Iowa.

Later we just relaxed and enjoyed life. It had been a great day. I did spend time doing some journal updates, getting almost caught up. The neat thing about getting caught up is that I then don't feel so bad when I fall behind for a few days, lol. Dinner was grilled salmon with both tossed and sweet potato salad, while dessert was the last of the apple cake. You will note we have not been having any ice cream lately. Believe you me, this is something that gets heavily discussed during each and every visit to the grocery store. The skinny lady that I'm married to has this thing about the way she looks, so for now she is winning, but I'll keep lobbying and one of these days her resolve will weaken and it will be sugar free, nonfat ice cream with dessert once again, lol.

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July 29 Guess what? No library today. Oh, it's open alright, but we need a break, so we'll go back to the routine we followed for many years. The best way to get the day started is by working on the computer, so we both spent time doing our thing. Linda answered email and I worked on the daily journal. Then it was time for breakfast. One of the things we often do prior to eating breakfast is to weigh ourselves. When we where deciding what to bring along on our adventure into a new way of living, more than a few moments were spent debating the merits of our digital scales. We finally decided to bring them and they have been a great morale builder, as the way we feel has been confirmed by the numbers, so to speak. Obviously, rational people hold widely varying views on the merits of diet and health, else why would the country be plagued by a pandemic of obesity, smile. On the other had, the vast, vast majority of people we see living this nomadic RV lifestyle appear to be quite healthy. The tale of the tape, the number on the scale and what our bodies tell us, all confirm that we must be doing something right.

With Linda smiling from ear to ear as she recorded a new low weight, she celebrated by having a glass of milk with her scrambled eggs and strawberries. I, on the other hand had my usual, which was the same eggs and strawberries, but with a slice of Canadian Bacon. How does it work? Is it that we are healthy because we eat health food or is it that because we are healthy, the food we eat is therefore health food. One of the conundrums of life, but one that is a pleasure to have, lol. After this great breakfast it was time We could call it shake and bake for chores. Whenever we go to the laundromat it costs approximately five dollars. When we use the washer/dryer in the coach it is approximately twenty cents per load. Yes, I know the coach washer/dryer is smaller than a commercial machine so it takes more loads, but it is so easy. Whether it would work out on balance to save money is probably debatable. That it is convenient, is not, at least by the measure of how we live. What this is leading to, is, soon the washer/dryer was humming and shaking. That's because I still haven't installed the new mounting brackets. But it has only been several months since Linda got them and since she doesn't remind me, out of sight, out of mind, lol.

Chores around the house done, we spent more time on the computer (the ultimate time waster, smile), had an abbreviated lunch of just Makes the Berkeley Pit look like a mud puddle turkey wraps and took off to buy some groceries and do some sight seeing. As we were about to find out, the gigantic tan scar on the mountain due west across the valley from the RV Park was not a freak of nature, it was man made. It marks the western side of a hole that exists where a mountain once stood. Not just any hole, the largest man made hole on the face of the earth. So big it can be seen from outer space. It is Kennecott Utah Copper's, Bingham Canyon Mine and it is one of those things that if you don't see it, you couldn't comprehend what you missed and if you did go you would be awe struck looking at it. Some things are so big that the brain can not process what the eye sees. This is one of those places. It is just a big hole that has a bunch of ants crawling around. The only problem is, those are not ants they are dump trucks, but not any old dump trucks. Rather they are trucks that can haul up to 320 tons of ore or waste rock per load. Trucks that have tires that are 12 feet high. Trucks that look like ants when they're are down in the mine.

Ants, those aren't ants, those is huge trucks

They also have a very nice museum that tells the story of the mine, the people, the places, the minerals and the technology that have made the Bingham Mine what it is.

The rock lady is rocking over those rocks

Here's something to give you a comparison of the size of the tires on those trucks that look like ants.

That's not a tire mate, This is a tire, lol

Now look at this photo. Those stacks of tires in the middle are the size of the one above. This is the repair yard for the mine and is at the top of the pit, yet it still looks small in the photo beacause the sure size of the mine is mind boggling.

Those are most definitely not toy tires

Returning from the mine we stopped for groceries. This is one of those times that we find the GPS really helpful. It's one thing to drive to the grocery store in the small towns we are usually near, since they are normally on the main road into town, but the big city is something different, though I must admit the street numbering system in the Salt Lake area makes finding things very easy. This Albertson's did not have strawberries on sale, but grapes, peaches and nectarines where 98 cents a pound. Not only were the green and red grapes on sale, so were the black grapes and did they ever taste good. I see peaches and nectarines at breakfast and black grapes at lunch in our future. Looks like besides being a hack writer I'm also an amateur fortune teller, lol. When we got back to the RV Park, we took a walk. I wonder what these people said when the trailer tire blew and did all this damage. Bet wasn't "darn, that's too bad", lol.

The back tire was new

Back at the house the farm girl did her thing in our vegetable garden. Those Tiny Tim tomatoes were tiny alright, but the woman I am married to was far smarter than they were. They might try to hide in that tomato plant, but the flying female farm fingers will bring them to harvest. And harvest them she did. Not much in size, but gigantic in taste, they sure hit the spot.

Love makes the tomato grow better, lol

Dinner was as delicious as ever. When it has to compete with turkey wraps everyday, you know it has to be above and beyond, lol. Tonight it was grilled turkey burgers, baked beans, sweet potato salad, corn on the cob and tossed salad. That sounds like a lot, even Our version of dinner and a movie though there is really nothing bad there other than the corn, but what the heck, we gotta splurge every once in awhile don't we, lol. Afterward, while I cleaned up Linda surfed the net. She has two or three sites she has on her must visit list. I won't divulge them yet, but we do eat to the adventures of Ms. Tioga and George every night. This is something we have been doing for years. Back when we worked for living, rather than lounging around as a way of living, we used to sit down at the computer every night as dinner cooked and read "George". Being the creatures of habit that we are, we still do it, lol. After all this there was cake for dessert and what a great end to the day. May your days be as wonderful as ours.

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July 28 As Yogi Berra is purported to have said, "It's like déjà vu all over again." I could make this real brief, breakfast, library, concert, dessert, or I could write a tad more detail about the day. For those of you who get their news from CNN Headline News, "That's all folks", to borrow the line Porky always ended the Looney Tunes cartoons with. (Any implied similarity between Headline News and Looney Tunes cartoons was...., smile)

For those of you looking for the lowdown on what took place today, its going to be interesting to see how I can stretch the second sentence in the above paragraph into a full days journal, then again....., lol. One thing I have really been working hard at is keeping the journal up to date, which means trying to be only a couple of days behind at the most. I can definitely see a struggle coming this week. Yesterday morning I spent a few minutes on the journal when I first got up, but most of the time was spent deciding what area I wanted to research at the library. Then, when we got back to the coach it was nearly 10 o'clock, and truth be told, I just didn't have any energy left to think about writing. Today will be more of the same and I know it will just mean I fall further behind. Yet it will only bother me for a brief instant, since the time at the library is so rewarding in and of itself.

The ease with which we travel to the library by using TRAX is amazing. There is a large parking lot at the station where we could drive and park, but we really, really need the exercise we get from walking over and back. Again today, the train fills as we near the near the downtown area. We spend the trip talking about what we had found yesterday, and in particular, what Linda would be searching for today. It sure made the trip go faster. Today, our research will involve two different floors of the library. We will spend time on the fourth floor, which has all the microfilms of the US records, then later, we will head to the fifth floor where the US books are kept. I spent an entirely fruitless and frustrating morning searching for one of my most elusive lines. It included hours spent reading late 18th and very early 19th century town records with no luck. It is one of those cases were a person seems to appear out of thin air. Only in this case it is two people. Old handwriting is hard enough to read, but when the town clerk changes every few years and you have to try to decipher a different persons writing it leads to a bad case of blurry eyes and tired brain, smile.

Linda, of course, was far more successful. What makes it okay is knowing that on other days the situation will be exactly reversed. After lunch we looked at books. Instead of trying to read the original town records, I looked at town histories. As always the clues are tantalizing, but the connections are not there. I did uncover enough information to decide that for the immediate future I would focus on several other states rather than the one I had been looking at. There is only so much of this total immersion of the physical and mental that our bodies could tolerate. We finally cried uncle and took a walk. It was a walk with a purpose. This was Friday night and there was music in the park. It was a marvelous experience. We, well, Linda, had packed some snacks and so we sat on chairs in the grass in park and enjoyed the sounds of the Sam Payne Project which was many, many times better than the last band we heard, the one at the cowboy dinner in the Black Hills. This was part of the concert in the park series put on by the LDS Church. As we were walking back to the TRAX station we strolled through the Temple Square. The crescent moon was in the sky just near one of the spires of the Salt Lake Temple. Though the photo looks good, it doesn't begin to impart the beauty of the scene we beheld. It was a very magical moment. Just another reason we are glad we we have had the opportunity and the desire to enjoy this way of life.

Bueaty is not always in the eye of the beholder, sometimes it just is

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July 27 A day to look to the past. When you travel to the town which has the largest genealogy library in the world, do you stay in the coach and read or do you go visit the tourist sites? Not if you're us. You go to the library, all day, lol. Eggs, Canadian Bacon and strawberries eaten, we venture off in search of dead relatives. Of course, we are in Sandy which is about 15 miles south of where the It wasn't empty for long library is located. Thirty miles round trip, $5 parking when we arrive, we're not driving, we're riding. The campground we are staying at is about a half mile from a TRAX station, where we can catch a light rail train to within a half a block of the library. The cost is $1.50 per person per trip, or $6.00 total for both of us to go up and back. Not only is it stress free, it will even be cheaper than driving, plus we will get some exercise from the walk. How can you possibly beat that, lol. We locked up and walked to the station. It was a downhill walk to the intersection, then uphill to the station. There is parking at the station for those who drive, but being so close, why drive and the station was only a 15 minute walk. The ticket vending machine was easy to use and in short order, in exchange for a $20 bill, we had two tickets good for the next two hours and 17 Sacagawea $1 coins we will use for future fares. A brief wait and the train was at the station. It took just a half hour to arrive at the Temple Square station. It was definitely the way to travel, lol.

The library is five floors, three above ground, two below. Today we will be spending our time on the main, or ground floor, which is actually the third floor . It is called the Family Search floor and is where the family history and biography books are kept. We will call it a "get your feet wet" day, smile. Talk about awed, Linda was more than awed, she was blow away by what was available. She was like a moth drawn to a lantern at a campground, lol. If you are interested in family history, this is the place. If you're thinking about Researcher researching research by other researchers visiting, then decide to do it. Why, because you can, smile. Linda has not done as much research as I have, partly because many of her ancestors have what could be considered very common English names. This means two things. One, there is a plethora of information available for her surnames. Second, she has to wade through a gosh awful amount of information to find anything even remotely connected to her ancestors and even then it is often a guess as to whether it is her family or not. It did not take her long to bury herself, so to speak, in work, smile.

We spent the entire day in the library. The facts we uncovered will either help us fill in some gaps in our list of dead or live relatives, or perhaps, add some flesh to the lives of those who have preceded us. Most of my time was spent on the latter, most of Linda's on the former. I find that I not only want to know the names of my ancestors, I want to know something about them. The what and how are just as important as the who. For example, Linda is blessed with many old photos of her ancestors, I on the other hand had a mother, who for some reason or other got rid of nearly all the photos from my dad's family. Narrow minded and bitter, she was reported to have asked "Who would want those old things". Petty little people who think only of themselves, sometimes they are our own. Once the deed has been done it is too late. As they say, it ain't no use crying over spilled milk", but why, Mom, why,why were you so bitter? The piles of books around Linda tell the tale of her search for her past far better than I can. If you've never done it, I'd encourage you to at least give it a try. You never know what you'll find. Who knows, you could be related to someone famous, or someone notorious or someone that though they were neither, was someone you would be proud to call your relative.

After spending, quite literally, all day in the library, Linda had a break planned for the evening. We were going to choir practice, but not just any choir practice, The Mormon Tabernacle Choir practice. The Tabernacle is being renovated, so both the Thursday evening practice and the Sunday morning broadcasts are being temporarily held at the Conference Center. We were clueless as to Awe inspiring is the only description what we were expecting to see when we walked into the auditorium. To say we were blow away would be a colossal understatement. There is seating for 21,000, the pipe organ has 7,667 pipes and 125 ranks, and to top it off, the 360 some members of the choir look small standing up behind the podium. They were practicing some very challenging music from Stravinsky that was part of a program they were presenting at the Deer Valley Music Festival in Park City this weekend. Taking a break, they sang the Battle Hymn of The Republic and God Be With You Till Me Meet Again. Somehow they made it seem that they were honored that the people in the audience had cared enough to come watch them practice. As we exited, I reflected on how the church we had attended before leaving on our adventure had let political correctness dictate that all the hymnals should be replaced with ones where all references to war and gender had been removed. Then they wondered why the membership was declining.

It was just after sunset when we arrived back at the TRAX station in Sandy. The gentle breezes, the warm air, the barest hint of sunset still remaining above the tops of the mountains to the west, the sliver of the moon adding its majesty and the lights of the valley at night as we walked down the hill from the station, coupled with the wonderful and inspiring music we had just heard, made us realize just how wonderful the life we lead truly is. Dinner was grilled burgers with baked beans and sweet potato salad, followed not too long after by apple cake for dessert. To say that this was a good day would be an understatement, it was a fabulous day.

It was a magical moment

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July 26 Another of our up early, late getting started days. I still remember reading forum posts before we left on our great adventure that talked about what time people would get on the road. Some liked to leave early and drive all day, others left around noon and only drove for an hour or two. I didn't know what our routine would be or if we would even have a routine. Looking back on the past 6 months, it appears we have several different routines depending on the situation. If we intend to boondock for the night, we plan to arrive later in the day and adjust our schedule accordingly. When we boondocked, then we left early in the morning, particularly if we were at a Walmart, trying to be out of the lot and on the road before 8 AM. However, life has been different for the past month. The temperatures have led us to pretty much look for an electrical hookup every night. Also one nighters have not been in the plans very often. We settle in for a couple of days, then move on down the road. Today proved to be a typical day. Up early to work on the journal, but in no hurry to leave. Finally at 10:50 we were on the road. What a life we live, smile.

Our route today would lead to Sandy, Utah. For one of the very few times, we have reservations. Our thinking was we were going to be in a major metropolitan area, area that has a lot of summer vacationers and we wanted to stay for a week or longer, hence reservations were in order. We planned to take US-89 from Montpelier, around Bear Lake, down through Logan, Utah until it intersected I-15. Then we would take I-15 down to Sandy. It would be an interesting route that would involve several sections of narrow mountain driving and end up on what we try so hard to avoid, an Interstate. And not just any Interstate, a section of Interstate that bisects a large urban area. I shall approach the drive with the motto: Variety is the spice of life, lol.

After leaving Montpelier, US-89 follows the Bear Valley south, skirting Bear Lake, before climbing up into the mountains. The succession of small towns meant that this was not a route to make time, it was a route to enjoy our travel time. There continued to be wonders in the middle of nowhere. About 10 miles down the road, as we passed through the small town of Paris, the Paris Tabernacle, constructed from the red sandstone of the area caught our eye. Another few minutes brought us to St. Charles and a link with our Why are these places always out in the middle of nowhere past, that is, our immediate past. Last week it was Mt. Rushmore, this morning it is the birthplace of Gutzon Borglum, the sculptor who created Mt. Rushmore. Driving on, we enjoyed the views of Bear Lake and continued to pull over at the numerous historical markers, learning that Bear Lake is a natural lake and that the fur traders rendezvous of the late 1820's lived in the tales of the trappers and mountain men as the greatest of all, not in size, but rather in terms of the "celebration" that took place, smile. Then it was time to leave the valley and traverse the mountains. One of the definitions of traverse is to go up and down and back and forth. What an apt description to what we did. This road is designated as a National Scenic Byway and it was easy to see why. From the beautiful views of Bear Lake on the eastern end to the marine terraces that marked the 1000 foot depth of Lake Bonneville above the Salt Lake Valley some 30,000 years ago on the west end, it was an very interesting and inspiring drive.

Until we reached the mountains, Bear Lake had always been off on the left side of the road. I guess it finally hit me that we were in the mountains when, after climbing for some time, a gorgeous blue and green lake appeared on the right side of the coach. Concentrating on the driving, I asked Linda what lake was it. She said it was Bear Lake. Not that I was lost, but I then asked her if there were two Bear Lakes, one in Idaho and one in Utah. She laughed and told me we were on a switchback and it was the same Bear Lake we had been seeing for the past half hour or so. Guess you could say I got turned around a little bit, smile.

Of course, how can you drive on a mountain road in the summer without encountering some road construction. Back where we only had our our weekends or way to brief, week long vacation during which to travel, road construction was a very bad thing, as it kept us from hurrying on to where we were going. Now we look at it as a welcome break that lets us relax for a short time. Same situation, separate outlooks. In the process of driving on roads under construction in the mountains, there is not always pavement. Driving a little slower and watching out for potholes, there weren't any, got us through those couple of areas with no problems. Besides, Utah roads under construction are in far better condition than Iowa roads that are constructed, lol.

If you don't have a sense of adventure, this life may not be for your, smile

The scenery was remarkable. The mountain stream that meandered near the road, peeking behind trees, then sparking beside us, or more correctly, but less idyllic, the road followed a stream making the drive one filled with ooh's and aah's.

Relaxing drive through a picture perfect setting

We could readily understand why the road through Logan Canyon is a scenic byway. As we continued to descend, we got closer and closer to the mouth of the canyon. Soon we had our first glimpse of Cache Valley and Logan. We passed Utah State University, set on a hill high above town. The most prominent landmark was the beautiful Logan Temple. This area is just filled with wonderful attractions, but our plans had us looking at miles to go before we could sleep (so to speak, lol).

The highway went through downtown Logan, but was no problem and almost before we knew it, we were nearing I-15, where we would head south towards Salt Lake City. As you know, we are not in love with Interstate highways, but this was going to be the route that We plan to get a lot closer look at SLC over the next week or so best met our needs at the moment. As always, construction cones, lane closed ahead signs and the corresponding narrow lanes and heavy truck traffic seem to be part and parcel of big city interstates. Utah has a population of approximately 2,500,000 and nearly 2,000,000 of those live along the 1-15 corridor centered on Salt Lake City, so I could definitely understand the heavy traffic, smile. Soon, downtown Salt Lake City came into view and then receded as we passed mile after mile of city. Finally the signs indicated our exit was ahead and after a short trip on city streets we were at our destination, Ardell Browns Quail Run RV Park. The sites are some what narrow, but then what do you expect in town. The park was almost full, we counted only four empty spaces, and we were glad we had made reservations. The concrete pad made for easy leveling, the 50 amp hookup for a cool interior, and site the orientation towards the Wasatch Mountains for a great view.

We were only there for a half hour our so when we noticed the wind picking up, Looking out the window we could see the trees thrashing about. Then we noticed the mountains had disappeared. It never did get black and no rain fell, so we decided it must have been dust in the air that gave everything a gray look. An interesting welcoming to Salt Lake City. After the storm passed we took a walk. Out on the street some markings caught my eye that just demanded a photo. What a town, they even mark the potholes so you will know where they are at, lol.

If they did this in Iowa it would give a whole new meaning to the term, "follow the yellow brick road"

Dinner was chicken sauteed with garlic and squash, plus a tossed salad. Dessert though was something else. We had really enjoyed the apple cake several weeks ago, so Linda baked another one. This time she made a few alterations to the recipe and managed to kick it up a couple of notches. The recipe will no doubt be showing up on the website one of these days. It will also served every night for a while, smile.

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July 25 Early morning is always a special time. As long time readers know, it is a time I truly treasure. This morning, as I sat in the coach, the sun suddenly burst forth over the mountains, and I marveled at the wonder of it all. Did those pioneers of 150 years ago see the beauty in the sunrise or did they just see another day of endless toil? They had recently crossed what was known as the "big hill" which is often described as the most serious impediment they would cross on the trail. After the ascent and descent of the "big hill", they would usually rest for a few days at Clover Creek, the name for Montpelier in those days, before traveling on. Could a wagon have been parked on the vary spot the coach is? Could someone have looked up at the same scene I was seeing? Unanswerable questions, but I couldn't help but believe the answer was yes.

Lost in my thoughts, it brought reality to the words in the, song by ABBA titled, Eagle.

They came flying from far away, now I'm under their spell
I love hearing the stories that they tell
They've seen places beyond my land and they've found new horizons
They speak strangely but I understand.

History is so many things, what it is today may not be what it is tomorrow. To some it is knowing, to others seeing and to still other, understanding. Today, for me, it is dreaming.

Information abounds on what those travelers ate, and had we wanted to, we could have had a trail breakfast. However, the realities of progress and a lack of information resulted in the usual of egg, etc., smile. As the days go by I find myself putting more and more coarse ground black pepper on my eggs, There is just something special that it adds to a meal. For most of the morning I worked on the journal while Linda made sure all things financial were in order. There are only two transactions a month that we make that can not currently be done on line. She had worked diligently to get it all set up and now she is reaping the rewards. Besides paying bills, having everything on line lets her do a quick daily check of each account to see if any unusual activity has taken place. She spent a good part of her working life doing this for the businesses she was responsible for, so it comes naturally to her now, to do the same for our accounts.

Finally it was time to journey to the National Oregon/California Trail Center. Even though it was only a couple of blocks away, we drove. After all, wouldn't the pioneers ridden a horse, smile. Talk about hidden gems, this was another of those little known places Wonders in out of the way places that we stumble across that turns out to be far more than you expect. It was at the Stagecoach Museum in Lusk, Wyoming, way over on the eastern edge of the state that Linda had picked up an advertising card on the Trail Center. Plans changed, the route was altered and here we were. In talking to the lady in the gift shop I learned that when the railroad pulled out of Montpelier in 1972, the town began to slowly wither away. Over a number of years the town lost more than half of its population, the main street lined with shuttered buildings. A group of businessmen decided that either they did something or the town would indeed, die. This was not a place where industry would flock, being far removed from any interstate highway, but the Bear Valley had always had a number of tourists, and it was also on the direct route from Salt Lake City to Yellowstone. It was on what had once been the Oregon/California trail, but furthermore, it was an important stopping point where the weary travelers could rest their stock and replenish their supplies. Thus was born the idea that grew into the attraction we were about to enjoy. Built with a combination of public and private funds, it reflected the attitude of the people who live here. An attitude that doesn't ask others to do it for you, but rather uses what you have, to make your life better. That they did right was reflected in the number of people we saw enjoying the Center.

This is not a place of interactive displays or animated dummies. This is a place where real people, accurately portraying the pioneers, lead you on your journey across the country. It begins with a movie that lets you see and hear what the journey was like. Done in the Ken Burns fashion, the words come from the journals and diaries of the people who actually crossed the continent on the trail, the accents imparted to the readers reflecting the wonderful diversity of people from all over the world who journeyed westward in search of free land. The movie finished, the wagon master takes you around to several shops were you learn about the the equipment and supplies you will need for the trip. You will need weapons, a rifle, a pistol and a shotgun, not for personal protection, but rather, to secure meat as you cross a country where there are no stores. But rather than just tell you about it or show you a gun or two like you would need, we stopped at the gunsmiths shop. A shop where guns are not only sold, they are also made. We learned how the gunsmith took a flat piece of iron and by heating and beating it with hammer, made it round. We saw the pieces of boring equipment he used to drill out the barrel and add the rifling. The block of wood that became the stock and how after a week's worth of work, a rifle worth $20 dollars had been made. A large expense to the traveler, if he had to buy all three types of weapons, but a necessity if you wanted to undertake the journey.

Next we learned about the wagon we would have to buy and the necessary accessories that we could not do with out. The water barrel, that would hold one or two days worth of water for man and animals, at the most. Axle grease and the routine maintenance It sure wasn't like the movies portray it to be that would need to be done during the months of travel. The necessity of a tar bucket to waterproof the box for river crossing or, heaven forbid, the need to turn the wagon box into a raft if the water was too high. The fact that you needed to buy a good team of oxen and if they were not available, then a team of mules. That a horse was for riding, not pulling a wagon to Oregon or California. We learned how an ox yoke worked and why you wanted oxen with horns (it would keep the yoke from slipping off when the ox lowered its head or went down hill). The chicken coop and chickens that would be carried on the side of the wagon and provide a couple of eggs a day. The stuff of survival on the trail.

Next it was off to the mercantile store to get your supplies. Since the wagon weighed about 1000 pounds and it could hold about 1500 pounds, and this about all you could expect the This was literally a journey that could take you from rags to riches team to pull, you needed to take only the things that were necessary. The china dishes might be a family treasure, but weighed a lot and regardless of how well they were packed, most would be broken by the time you reached your destination. Grandmas dresser or the cast iron stove may break your heart to leave behind, but they will break your animals if you take them along. It was far better to have extra cloth to mend the clothes that will be torn to shreds, a number of times over, during the trip. A bottle of liniment to rub on sore muscles, the medicines to treat the illnesses that would happen. The hundreds and hundreds of pounds of food that would be stuffed into every nook and cranny of the wagon. A wagon that would be loaded so full, that everyone walked along side, unless you physically couldn't walk, then you rode only until you could walk again or died. And your chances of dying were actually quite good, whether from accident, disease or exhaustion, as 1 in every 10 persons who started on the trail, died before reaching their destination. Their were 14 people in our group, which one wouldn't be alive when we reached the pacific? Was it the old man who had trouble walking, was it the young boy who had to touch everything, was it the pregnant mother or her young husband, or could it have been me. As the song, Eagle, by ABBA goes: "They speak strangely, but I understand". History is the story of real people.

Having bought all our gear and supplies it was time to start the journey. We stepped into a covered wagon, took our seats and the curtains at the ends of the wagon closed. We heard the steady clopping of the oxen, the jingle of harness and the groan of the wagon wheels, then the wagon itself started moving, jolting, swaying and bouncing. Suddenly voices began to read passages from the journals of actual travelers. Words that related the hardships they had gone through on the journey. I listened for awhile, then closed my eyes and Drew back the curtain, To see for certain, What I thought I knew, Far far away, someone was meandering, But the past was beckoning, Any dream will do, (with apologies to T.R.). And just like that I was no longer here, I was truly far, far away. I was there. I hope you can do the same thing in your life, as it is a most magical time. Eventually we reached our destination and found that we were at a camp for the night. We heard stories of what these travelers had been through and stories of others. We found out how the mileage was measured and how things were made and food cooked on the trail. Standing there, in the dim light, the fire flickering, the crickets chirping, once again with a little bit of drawing back the curtain, I was on the trail.

It was like you were really there

If you travel through this area and you enjoy history, it will most definitely be well worth your time to stop at the Oregon/California Trail Center in Montpelier, Idaho. There is also a collection of paintings that depict the journey across Idaho, plus the local history museum is located in the basement of the building. At the local history museum one thing in particular caught my eye, a display of cheese making equipment that was from a nearby settlement called Bern. Settled by Swiss immigrants, it brought home the journey my ancestors under took from Switzerland to the US. On a small piece of paper were the particulars of one families journey from Switzerland to Idaho in 1871. What caught my eye was the mention of the ship they were on, The Cimbria. Only a year before my ancestors had left Switzerland and sailed to America on that same ship, the Cimbria. They too were cheese makers who also settled in Bern, not Bern Idaho, but Berne, Minnesota. The link with the past. To experience the connection of being human. The joy of life. The spirit of individuality. The adventure goes on and on. With that in mind, below are photos of the cheese making equipment used at Bern, but it no doubt was the same as what was used at Berne.

Connections

For any of my cousins on my mothers side, here is an actual photo of the ship that our great great grandfather immigrated to America on.

I never would have thought

We do get off track sometimes, but if all we did was follow the straight and true path, just think how boring life would. Linda and I call this our great adventure for a reason, first because it is a great adventure, and second, because we can, smile.

But the day was not done yet. This is a very, very famous frontier town. It was late afternoon of the 13th day of August in the year of 1896, the bank was about to close, across the street, Bob Lay held three horses, while George Cassidy and Ezra Meeks entered the bank. Moments later they emerged with about $7000 in a gunny sack and all three rode off on their horses. A Sheriffs Deputy named Cruikshank gave chase on a bicycle, later switching to a horse and still later, accompanied by the Sheriff and a posse, pursued the robbers for almost a week before losing their trail. Below is copy of the affidavit filled out by the Bank President regarding the robbery. The Geo. Cassidy cited in the document was none other than Butch Cassidy.

Montpelier is proud of their heritage

With a place this famous, who could resist having their photo taken in front of the Bank Building that was robbed by Butch Cassidy, lol.

Re-creation of Butch emerging from the bank

In the evening we took a walk along Washington Street, the main street in town. Residing in the realm of little known and maybe unless facts, is the fact, nonetheless, that the second oldest continuously operating J C Penny Store in the world is on this street. It The grizzly statue is in the back, lol was also the sixth Penny's Store ever built. It still operates in the same building and unfortunately this intrepid journalist forget to take a picture of it, lol. There are nine plaques placed along the main street that document the history of some of the buildings in Montpelier, most still existing, several long gone. There was one other famous event that happen in the area which is commemorated by a statue. Old Ephraim was a grizzly bear, a very special grizzly bear. The last grizzly bear killed in Utah. He weighed 1100 pounds and stood 10 feet tall. The photo shows Linda standing in front of another, I mean a life sized statue, of that grizzly bear.

Dessert was the last of our chocolate chip cookies so we shall see what Chef Linda bakes for tomorrow night, that's a hint to the journal editor so it isn't pudding, lol.

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July 24 This was a good morning, as Linda woke up and pronounced herself apparently fully recovered from whatever had laid her low yesterday. She did not feel like eating eggs this morning, so we reverted to to past. It was time for oatmeal, sliced strawberries, That brown mound is not what you think, lol stevia, walnuts and cinnamon. Was it ever good, even though I had forgotten the ease with which the cinnamon shakes out of the container and so got just a little more than usual on my strawberries, smile. Before yesterday we had discussed where we be moving on to next. One thought had been Antelope Island State Park, which is located on the largest of the Great Salt Lakes islands. Then last night I had noticed a brochure Linda had picked up some place that talked about the California-Oregon Trail Center in Montpelier, Idaho. Understand that Idaho had not been on our general plan of states to visit, but a glance at the map showed it was only 70 miles away. Funny how this life leads you to places you never knew existed. A further check determined there was an RV park just down the street from the center, so we knew it was meant to be. Since the drive was going to be so short, it allowed for some time to work around the coach, particularly on the website. Finally we pulled out off Foothill RV park, hitching up the Explorer as an isolated shower passed overhead and headed west. It was only after we had been on the road a while that we remembered I had not taken any photo's of the campground and neither had we gone into town to visit the museums. Oh well, maybe someday when we're back through this area following the Oregon Trail, we can make up for the oversight.

One thing we did get a photo of, was the road closed signs. That this country gets heavy snowfall goes without saying. That those snows impact the country is apparent in the signs. At the base of almost every steep grade is a sign that warns the road is closed when the yellow lights flash. Linda always contended the best thing about moving to California was no more snow.

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I think we picked the right time of year to visit

The drive itself was very easy. The terrain was mountainous, but not difficult. The road consists of long gradual grades and Beauty is in the eye of the beholder sweeping turns. How different it was from Ohio, Indiana and Iowa where we had traveled on this same road through flat farm country. A road that was wide and smooth (except for Iowa) and led us to several wonderful places that we wouldn't have seen otherwise. The more we have thought about it, the better the idea seems of someday planning one of our trips to follow a road like US-30, stopping in small towns and big cities, just enjoying the small, simple things that cross our path. Maybe there is actually such a thing as meandering through life, smile. That US-30 is different in Wyoming is readily apparent as the contrast between the beauty of the red rock and soil, versus the sparse vegetation, most of which is sagebrush, lets you know this ain't Kansas, Toto. It wasn't all mountains. There were broad valleys, one of which was home to the small town of Cokeville which has a Flying J. So we stopped to top off the tank. For a station out in the middle of nowhere, so to speak, it was surprising busy. Maybe it was just because it was the only thing in the middle of nowhere, that it was busy, smile.

Montpelier was a pleasant surprise, The campground was spacious and open for good satellite reception, the weather warm, but not A long time ago in this same place.......... hot. After yesterday, we had decided to just rest today and leave the touristing until tomorrow. Even so, the touristing, in a way, came to us. US-30 through town follows the original route of the Oregon and California trail. The coach was parked so we faced the road and hence where the trail had passed by. The view out the windshield was of the mountains rising up to the east, the trail ran in a northerly direction through here, and had to be the same view the pioneers saw when they made camp. The resulting web searches and daydreaming severely limited the amount of daily journal writing I could do. The best intentions once again go by the wayside, lol.

We did have the salmon for dinner and you can guess what the sides were. Sweet potato salad and baked beans. By the way, we always eat the baked beans cold, just happens to be the way we both prefer them. The sunset was exceptionally pretty tonight, so here is another sunset photo. It's not to say that the sunsets in the east and Midwest are not pretty, they are, it's just that there is something special about western sunsets. Not always what the eye sees, sometimes it what the mind sees. Because of the mountains, sunset does not mean darkness and so we decided to walk in towards town.

Beauty surrounds us

The political leanings of the landowner next to the campground were displayed on a sign for all to see.

Everyone is intitled to their opinion, some are just more vocal about it than others

As we walked along we could hear running water and soon discovered its source, the town is laced with open irrigation ditches. No wonder everything in town was so green, lol.

And the desert overflows with water

We finished the day with two chocolate cookies apiece, trying to replace all that energy we burned off on our walk. Tonight we will sleep with the pioneers.

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July 23 A day for adventure. The call of the wild. Fossil Butte beckons. Breakfast beckons. Scrambled eggs, Canadian Bacon and sliced strawberries. Grind on some course black pepper and five or six shakes of hot pepper flakes and its time to eat. Linda is excited at prospect of seeing some fossils. Fossil Butte National Monument opens at 8 AM. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the point of view, we have learned that there is alway tomorrow, that our lives are no longer run by the clock, heck our lives are not even run by the calendar, they are just lived.

Little Fly, Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand Has brushed away.

Am not I, A fly like thee?
Or art not thou A man like me?

For I dance And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life And strength and breath
And the want Of thought is death;

Then am I A happy fly,
If I live, Or if I die.

William Blake

Most people know Blake from the poem that begins: Tiger! Tiger! burning bright, In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? But he has so many other wonderful poems that cause you to think, like the one above. Small incidences in our lives. Did the Indians see the fish in the rocks at Fossil Butte and wonder what and where. Do the commercial fossil miners wonder how or do they just see a dollar. In case you don't know, our quarry for the day are fish, or rather the fossils of fish, smile.

Fossil Butte lies west of Kemmerer on US-30. Leaving the campground there was a brown park service sign that stated the park was 8 miles away. Two miles up this road, and believe me, it is uphill nearly every inch of the way, there is another brown sign that says the park is 11 miles away. Linda got the biggest kick out of these two signs and wondered if anybody from the park service had ever looked at them. Maybe the rumors we have heard over the years are true. That since they are government workers it is most likely they either weren't smart enough to know they were wrong, or they simply didn't care, smile. Finally reaching the turn off to the park, we started back a long asphalt road. Soon the sign for the park appeared and the female fossil fish finder posed for a photo.

Obviously there are some really old fossils here, smile

Our first stop was to be the visitors center, but before we arrived, we ran into Just when you least expect it, smile, you're on candid camera a roadblock, or rather two of them. A pair of Pronghorns was using the same road that we were. They were so cute sauntering down the road in front of the Explorer, Linda just had to take a photo. I have to admit that she was correct in her observation. Their butts do look cute wiggling as they walk, lol. ( No I'm not going off on a giggle in their talk side trip a la The Big Bopper, smile.) (But I sure would like too, lol).

There is no admission charged at the Monument, but if they did, it would be worth it. Look at that nasty old crococile The park does not get a large number of visitors, Linda notice a chart that showed they average under 20,000 visitors a year. Some of the big parks average 10,000 visitors a day. Kind of gives you a feel for just how far off the beaten path this place is. When you walk in the visitors center, one of the things which immeiately stands out, is the fossil of the 13 foot long, 50 million year old crocodile. It gives a sense of realism to the lake that existed here those many years ago, as well as the sense of connectivity to life as we know it. Will mankind still be here in 50 million years and if so, will we be as raedily recognizable as this crocodile? Of course Linda just had to have her photo taken with another of her kind, err, I mean with her find, smile. One thing that makes the fossils here different from many other sites, is the fact that all the animals, insects and plants that made up the ecosystem of the lake are preserved in the rocks. Made up of innumerable thin layers of rock, they now reside high up on the side of the mountains which ring a valley. One side is the park, the other commercial fossil mines. The entire center of the lake has been eroded away, but millions of fossils remain. As always with the National Park Service, the museum and visitors center is very well done. As I've said over and over, they do it right.

Leaving the visitor center we drove further up into the mountains. The view from up on the top was magnificent, the broad valley with a train moving across it, the road beyond the tracks and in the far distance the other side of the valley. But we could not stay to admire the view, the lady desired to look at fossils in the rough so to speak and so we were off to the old quarry. Actually, our trip up here had been our attempt to find the old quarry, but the driver got totally turned around and it took a while before the tongue lashing from the old fossil hunter sunk into his brain. Made for a great side trip, thought the steep winding gravel washboard road would certainly not be for for everyone. The Explorer has been on many of these types of forays over the years and took it in stride, though my passenger wasn't exactly enthalled with the experience. Seems she always thinks I drive a little to fast when we come down off the cliff, as she refers to it, lol.

Photo's can not do the view justice

Finding and climbing to the actual quarry site proved to be our undoing in more ways than one. Lying high up on the butte, the trail to the quarry was 2.5 miles long. We packed food and four bottles of water and took off to climb to the top. We were about 1000 feet of trail and several hundred feet in height short of reaching the quarry when we met several people coming down. As we were facing the most difficult portion of the hike, we asked them if it was worth it. They said it was and more. We continued on, but only for 25 or so feet when Linda said she could go no further. While she sat on a bench out in the merciless sun., I completed the climb. They were right it was worth it.

Fish fossil fragments from the quarry area

Far below I could see Linda sitting on the bench and having made the rounds of the quarry, reading all the plaques and now having a far better understanding of the forces that preserved the fossils in that ancient lake bed, I descended the trail. Before leaving the Linda is the white dot you can't see just a little below the center of the photo. It's a big country out here. top, I signed the register, noting that there were not many people who made it up here. Either that, or they were so exhausted after the climb that they didn't have the energy or possibly the mental state to sign in. When I returned to where I had left Linda, she was sitting on the ground in the sparse shade of a sagebrush bush. The bright red color of her face had lessened and she was feeling a little better. When I drank some more water and noticed she didn't drink any, I asked her why. She said she wasn't thirsty. Not good, maybe she was partially dehydrated as I vaguely remembered that was one of the symptoms, or thought it was. By the time we reached the parking lot, all four bottles of water were gone. Driving back to town we couldn't help but wonder about the two men we had passed on the trail. Both had the same tale-tell red face Linda had had and their car was still in the parking lot when we left. Linda commented she hadn't noticed either of them carrying any water. We hoped they were all right.

We took one small detour on our way back, driving thru downtown Kemmerer. Kemmerer was the starting place for something that touched almost everyone our age. In 1902 a young man from Missouri arrived in the wild mining town of Kemmerer and open a From dedication to a principle comes success mercantile store called The Golden Rule Store. So named, because of the man's strict adherence to the golden rule in his personal and business life, it flourished to the point that in 1913 he changed the name of what then become a chain of stores to his own name, J C Penny. I still remember the Penny's store that we shopped at when I was boy. The creaky wooden floors, the second level on the back half of the store. The office area with its big glass windows. The brass tubes that quickly whisked your money up to that same second floor and just a quickly returned your change and receipt. It was a good time in my life, just as now is a good time in my life. Linda was still not feeling 100%, so she stayed in the car as I walked across the street and took a picture of what is referred to as the "mother store".

Linda never did feel good the rest of the day, spending most of the time sleeping or drinking water. She did try to determine what she had and we concluded maybe it was heat exhaustion coupled with dehydration. She didn't eat any lunch or dinner, but rather drank water and had a few crackers as her stomach wasn't feeling the best. I had gotten out some salmon for dinner, but ended up not fixing it because Linda didn't want any. Instead, I ate a little of this and a little of that. Next time we are out like that I will take my Camelbak along to supplement the 4 bottles of water we normally carry. You can't carry too much water in the desert.

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July 22 Another travel day, one of about 200 miles to Jeffery City for an overnight stop. Unfortunately it didn't work out that way. What did work was our plan for an early start. After yesterdays late start we had vowed to do better today and we did. We A train load of air conditioning were on the road just after 10 O'clock. Two things became immediately apparent to us, first, that we were paralleling a railroad and second that we were in coal country. The tracks carried train after train loaded with coal. We finally started counting the cars and determined there were probably right around 100 cars in each train. Each looked to be identical to the next, with two engines in front and on in the rear. Their speed didn't seem to vary, either. It was slow uphill and slow downhill, but they obviously got to where they were going. What a contrast to the semi trucks on the road we were taking, creeping uphill before flying downhill as the road was not one of those twisty mountain roads, but rather had long straight sloping stretches and gentle sweeping curves.

Speaking of roads, our route today was going to include a stretch of Interstate. We would take 18 west out of Lusk over to I-25, then head northwest past Douglas to Casper. In Casper we would exit I-25 and take Wyoming Rt-220 southwest to just north of Big Muddy where US-287 would lead us west to our destination for the day, the town of Jeffery City. When we had been trying to determine where our journey through Wyoming would lead, we needed to decide if we wanted to use the Interstate, I-80, across southern Wyoming or our hold true to our aversion to super highways and use the old US and state highways. Based on the excellent road conditions we found yesterday, it looked like we had made a good decision in planning our route over the non-interstate roads. Since land for the right of way does not pose a problem in Wyoming, the roads are wide asphalt ribbons with broad shoulders, built on a heavy, brawny base that allows traffic to drive quickly and smoothly, while the sparse population means the amount of traffic is low. There were probably almost as many "vacationers" on the road as there there was local traffic. Though, since some of the country we drove through appeared to have no ranches, no towns, not even any roads leading of the main highway, the term local was relative, smile.

The first "big" city we would come to, Douglas, was essentially by-passed by the interstate, but it does have its claim to fame. You see, Douglas has declared itself to be the Jackalope capital of America because, according to legend, the first Jackalope was spotted Whatever could it be there around 1829. We saw a large statue of a Jackalope at the interstate exit and have since learned that Jackalope are a very big deal around here, even to the point of the annual Jackalope festival. Later we learned that if we had been interested in hunting Jackalope we could have gotten our Jackalope hunting licenses at the Chamber of Commerce. It wouldn't have done us any good since the hunting of jackalopes is restricted to the hours of midnight to 2 a.m. on June 31 and it was already July. Linda wants to come back some year and participate in the annual hunt, so maybe in a few years we will be back this way again, smile.

The miles rolled by, the bugs splattering on our recently washed windshield and the road construction ahead signs gave warning of changes coming. That is one of the many reasons we like to take the non-interstate highways. Is it possible the so called Federal Interstate Highway System is a glimpse of the country as a whole? Is our national system of government in disarray, falling to pieces, just as the deplorable condition of the interstate roads and the the "loud thunk and big bump" that greets you when you approach the bridges on them implies. Was the atrocious, deplorable and what in my mind, could be considered the criminal response to Katrina by our Federal Government, just a continuation of the incompetence and criminality that is prevalent in government? For the life of me I don't understand why people such as that incompetent, two bit, worthless political hack, Michael Brown, who was in charge of FEMA during the Katrina debacle are not in prison. The good old boy network and way it is perpetuated, no matter which party is in power, turns my stomach. Rant over.

There was also beauty in the air, the sunflowers growing along the sides of the road providing a brief distraction from the construction zone.

Beauty is all around us, we just have to look

A little further down the road the question of what was the destination of the coal trains was also partially answered. Power plants, electricity. Not for Wyoming, for places far removed. I found it intriguing that much of the power generated by the company that owns this plant goes to Oregon, the land of the environmentalists. Guess their motto is no pollution in Oregon, but it's okay elsewhere if it provides us with the necessities of life. Hypocrites that want to tell others how to live as long as it doesn't affect their own life, guess you can tell today wasn't the best day we've had for a while, lol.

Power for the masses

Not to be outdone by Douglas, the City of Casper also has statues at the Interstate exits. Okay Douglas, I see your Jackalope and raise you These, however, are something that is immediately recognizable, dinosaurs. As we had learned back at the museum in Lusk, this was the land of the Triceratops. Since we had spent a good bit of time on vacation several years ago visiting dinosaur areas, we decided to pass this time.

We did stop for diesel at the Flying J on the east side of town. Turned out to be a little bit of a challenge. After having passed through the road construction near Douglas, here it was again and right at the exit we wanted. We decided to exit anyway and by going slowly, very slowly, we made it down to the traffic light. A left turn and we were at the Flying J, the only problem was there was so much traffic going every which way, that I rolled just far enough past the entrance that I couldn't make the turn into the diesel pumps. I made the decision to turn into the gas pump area and go around back and pull up to the diesel pumps from the rear. The only problem was, there was no rear entrance. Not only that, but the gas pumps were so busy, neither could I cut across the end of the islands to get over to the diesel area. But there was even more, the road we had turned in on dead ended just ahead with no turn around. Luckily, a not too busy fast food establishment was off to the right and I was able to make a U turn in their lot and get back to the main road. This time we made it into the diesel pump area and pulled up along side another RV that was also pulling a toad. But our little saga was not over yet. The machine would not take our credit card, telling us to see the cashier. Linda went inside and I, rather impatiently, waited. Finally the pump reset and I filled the tank. The clerk told Linda the pumps were set up to randomly require a customer to come into the store to serve as a credit card fraud check. Good idea, but it "could" have picked another time to do it, lol. It took far less time to pump the diesel that it did to get to the station and soon we were on the road again. But only as far as getting back to the entrance ramp to the Interstate. Remember the exit was under construction, well, so was the entrance, even more so. A long slow, vehicle by vehicle ascent to the top of the ramp brought us face to face with a stop sign and no merge lane to enter the interstate which had one of its two lanes closed. Finally the gods were smiling and with traffic some distance back, I pulled out on I-25 to continue our journey. And you wonder why we really, really don't like to drive the Interstates, lol.

We exited on Route 220 and headed off towards the southwest and Jeffery City. We had noticed that this was also oil country around here, and the replica wooden oil derrick that sat in a city park we passed, served to confirm our observations.

Wyoming, oil, coal and cold. They can have it

Leaving Casper behind, the landscape began to change. The red rock country started to appear. No matter how many times and places throughout the west we see those red cliffs, we are always awed by them. There are one of life's simple pleasures. Photographs Red rock country is beautiful country never do them justice. The eye gives a depth and vastness to the scene that impossible to duplicate other than being there in person. Just another reason we are out here doing it, because we can. We did miss one thing we really wanted to see. How we managed to do that, we never did figure out. Somehow or other we drove right past Independence Rock and did not see it. No signs, no rock, no nothing. One thing we do know for sure, we will be back to this little corner of the world again, as now our appetite has been whetted for following the Oregon Trail. It just won't happen this year. It was around 2 o'clock when we arrived at Jeffery City, our stopping place for the night. It was shortly after 2 when we pulled out, heading another 200 miles down the road to Kemmerer. It just wasn't where we wanted to stay. A bare dirt lot with hookups, multiple signs on the door directing you to do this or not do that. We just didn't have a warm and fuzzy feeling, heck even the town looked mostly deserted, and since it was still early in the day, we decided to drive on. We had nothing planned to do in Jeffery City other than break up the long drive and spend the night, so going on meant we were not going to miss anything, just drive for a longer time today.

Down the road we drove, and something different loomed in the distance, not the rounded hills we had been passing through for the past 2 or 3 hours, rather it was mountains, real mountains, the continental divide. It didn't take long before we reached the turnoff Just a little further at it will all be downhill from there, lol from US-287 to Wyoming 28. The next 35 miles of road will take us through the mountains. It will also take us through the famous South Pass of the Oregon Trail. The pass was interesting. It is not a narrow gorge, rather it is a wide broad, gently sloping expanse, seemingly sparsely covered with grass. Not the thing of Hollywood where the handsome husband and attractive wife in clean clothes, with not a speck of dust nor dirt on them and every hair of their head perfectly held in place, step down from their wagon pulled by horses and gaze longing down from the crest on the mountain to the river flowing through the forest that borders the fertile green valley below. I find it sad that some people really think what they see on TV or in the movies even remotely resembles what life was actually like, those many years ago. Through the pass, we began our descent, eventually coming out onto a flatland that center pivot irrigation had turned into alfalfa fields, then it was back once again to the arid lands of sagebrush. It is amazing how cattle survive in this dry seeming desolate land.

We also enjoyed the warning signs that had been erected to make drivers more aware of the fact that wildlife can cross the road at any moment.

Danger ahead, behind and to the side

Much of this route had also been open range. It was a different place than most travelers to Wyoming see. The Grand Tetons and Yellowstone it was not, but Wyoming it was. Occasionally we would pass a lone head of beef (Though we suspected it was most likely a steer, we didn't have a clue as to whether it was a cow or steer), so head of beef will do. And before you pick on Linda for not knowing, first she was a farm girl, not a ranchers daughter and second they were so far away we were lucky to tell they were cattle, let alone what kind, lol.

Those aren't prairie dogs, those are cattle

At last we arrived at Kemmerer. There were two RV parks that we were aware of, One called Foothills and one called Riverside and only about a half mile apart. Guess which one Linda picked. Trouble was it was almost full with only two vacant spots. It wasn't exactly on the side of the river, though it looked like the river had to be on the other side on the embankment. There wasn't one blade of grass in the whole park, but there were wall to wall campers. It really wasn't going our way today. Also there was no one in the office and a 5th wheel with two older people had pulled up behind us. Figuring to let the old people in the 5th wheel have the site Good food and a good woman go together between the two families with all the kids, we drove to the other RV park. This one seemed to have a lot of long term residents, but the sites were wide, they had grass and though it had a somewhat less than stellar appearance, this one felt right. Again, there was no one in the office, in fact there wasn't even an office, only a drop box like at the forest service campgrounds. We picked a nice 50 amp site and set up. Taking a walk around the park, it appeared many of the sites were occupied by 5th wheels with an oil field or coal field type truck in front. Families were visiting and we were glad we had picked this park over the RV Crampedground by the river, smile. Dinner was turkey burgers with all the trimmings. As we were sitting outside enjoying the meal, another RV pulled in and set up beside us. Worked great because their RV shaded our table and since it was on the side we have no windows, they were in essence, not there when we were in the coach.

Linda couldn't get over the size of the garbage cans. They were the same shape as the ones we had at our house, only many times larger.

Ya, it's just a garbage can but look at the pretty model

Later we took a walk and discovered there were more hidden gems in Kemmerer. At the back of the RV park, a hill or mountain rose up, depending on what term you would like to use. There were rocks back there and since tomorrow we were going to a place called Fossil Butte, the family rock hound was on the prowl. There were rocks of many colors and textures and also coal, but look as intently If you have good eyes you can see Pronghorn antelope as she could, she could find no fossils. Finished having our heads buried in the dirt, we looked up and noticed movement on the hill or mountain side. They were pronghorn. Pronghorn, as in a whole herd of Pronghorn. Some still on the hillside, but most were down where we were, ahead of us in the tall grass. Unfortunately it was rapidly getting darker. So in order to both see them better and also to take some photo's, we moved in closer. Wrong move as single animals looked up and started moving toward the hill, soon the whole herd was on the mountain side and we had only gotten a few poor photos. Walking back out towards the road we noticed some signs and ended up taking a wonderful walk on a paved trail that followed a portion of the river. It was one of those special times you can only stumble across and it seems like our lifestyle lets us stumble often. A day that held many surprises, so good and some not so good, faded into night with us walking along a river in the middle of Wyoming. Life is good.

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July 21 We leave South Dakota today to spend some time in its neighbor to the west, Wyoming. Our route would take us south on South Dakota Rt-79, then west on US-18 across the state line and down to Lusk, Wyoming where we planned to spend the night. As always, our day started with a good breakfast. Though we may sometimes inadvertently skip lunch, we do not skip breakfast, house rule, lol. It was our customary scrambled eggs, Canadian Bacon and sliced peaches. Since Linda bought 3 dozen eggs at the grocery store yesterday, I think we are going to be having eggs for the immediate future. Rather than spend the entire morning piddling around like we seem to find ourselves doing on travel days, we decided to hit the road a little earlier today. The fact that we pulled Another day, another state out at 11:40 is testimony to how miserably we failed, lol. Maybe we will do better next time. The land we drove through is a place of wide expanses as they say, where topping a rise can reveal a vista that literally can encompass hundreds of square miles. We had more than a few ooh's and aah's as we headed towards the west and we weren't even out of South Dakota yet. Then as we traveled over the curving rolling road a sign loomed ahead, Wyoming, we were there.

As we continued further to the west and south we did notice changes in the landscape. For one thing country was becoming drier. We Dots, what dots had noticed for some time how few trees there were, but now even the hints of green grass which had been mixed in with the dry brown landscape were also disappearing. We began seeing animals grazing in the brown grasslands that were not cattle. We couldn't tell what they were, as they were to far away. Maybe Mule deer, maybe Pronghorn antelope, maybe something else.

We also saw cattle, but now sagebrush seemed to be a constant roadside companion to our travels.

Almost before we knew it we were in Lusk. Since there were only 120 miles to travel today, it had not taken long. We traveled thru the small town and arrived at an open field with hookups, our stop for the night. There were several other motor homes parked, one of which appeared to be a fairly new Alfa. It looked like a good choice for a place to stay and with full hookups, a good 50 amps and only another $10 a night, it's tough to beat. We hooked up, turned on the air conditioners and took off back to town. Lusk is the home of the Stagecoach Museum and we wanted to see the stage coach. $2 a head and the history of the area at your fingertips, you can't beat it. There is one great mystery surrounding the stagecoach, one we did not answer. How did they get the stagecoach up in the second floor of the old Armory? If you want to know, you'll have to visit the museum as it didn't occur to us to ask the question until we got back to the campground, lol. This coach was used on the Cheyenne to Deadwood (South Dakota) line, a trip of more than 300 miles. They say that Buffalo Bill Cody and Calamity Jane were passengers in this coach. With a history like that, I just had to touch it when Linda took a picture of the two old timers together, smile. Now I really wish we had asked how they got it up to the second floor.

The real deal

Of course Linda got more excited over a dusty old stuffed chicken than the stagecoach, but that would be expected of a women who loves chickens and anything to do with them. The most unusual item was the two headed, four legged, two tailed calf. It was like the body was normal, it was just the two ends that got doubled.

and a barred rock to boot

One other thing that caught my eye was a gallon jug of Merthiolate. Being a child of the 50's I remember the bright red liquid in the little bottle with the glass rod in the cap that mom would daub on any cut I would get. It never hurt and it always made the cut look like it had bleed a lot. It also worked great as warpaint when we played cowboys and Indians. My aunt Dorothy, who was a nurse, once told me I'd be just as well off spitting on it as using that worthless Mercurochome. From then on I bit the bullet and used the stinging, burning Merthiolate. That's why I probably survived all those cuts I got in childhood and all thanks to my aunt Dorothy who was visiting from Kentucky, lol. When I reached my teenage years I took it up one more notch and started using iodine. Drug use in the 50's sure was different, lol.

More than I ever imagined

Dinner was marinated grilled shrimp and our now usual side dishes of tossed salad, baked beans and sweet potato salad. Have we fallen into a rut or just come up with some quick, simple, easy to fix items that we enjoy?

Good food and a good woman, what more could a guy want

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July 20 The following is a way to describe the day.

I knew a man Bojangles
And he'd dance for you
In worn out shoes

With silver hair a ragged shirt
And baggy pants
He would do the old soft shoe

He would jump so high
Jump so high
Then he lightly touch down

Do you love the words and melody of that song like I do? It's music to my ears, lol. That's also what we've been doing the last few days. We've danced the dance, talked the talk and walked the walk, now it's time to touch down lightly and get ready for the next dance. So after 2 and a half days of touristing, we are going to call a halt to such activities today.

Breakfast held no surprises with scrambled eggs, onions, Canadian Bacon and sliced peaches filling our plates, then came cleaning time. It is amazing how quickly the impeccable beauty of the coach's interior is marred by dust and debris. With no kids or animals tracking in any dirt, where does it all come from? Some of it is tracked in on our footwear and lately as we have lived in the dry dusty conditions of northern Nebraska and South Dakota, it has been worse than usual. Those early morning, bare footed foray's to the computer are often fraught with the prospect of stepping on a small stone. One that was carried in by the groove of a sandal tread and subsequently lodged in the carpet or one of the throw rugs. One can vacuum on a daily basis, or accept them as part of life. We find that we are exceptionally accepting people, lol.

But it is just not the floors which seem to be collectors of dirt. Every horizontal surface quickly attains a gritty covering of airborne particles. This is was made worse by the fact we like to have the windows of the coach open whenever possible. Maybe the concept of sod walls, dirt floors and roofs that the pioneers availed themselves to made cleaning a lot simpler, smile. A dust rag only moves the dirt around, the magic, magnetic cloths do better, but there is still grit. The only way we have found to get it all picked up, at least until the next breeze, lol, is to use the time tested method of soap and water. Still, I would have trouble seeing how someone who was a compulsive neat nick could travel in an RV out in this part of the country. Of course there are always the high end resorts with their well watered lawns and asphalt roadways and the prices to match. We have also been parked next to neighbors where the wife seemed to be wiping and cleaning much of the time. Not our way of living. We accept the old saying, "Dirt Happens" as something that we coexist with.

Linda was in more than just the mood to tidy up a bit around the house this morning. There were things to mend, such as the bathroom rug we had brought from our house. The half circle shape fit perfectly in the space between the commode and the sink. The colors and chicken design complimenting the coaches decor. Unfortunately, it had not been a new rug, but it had been the "right" rug, smile. As You gotta have light to do it right the months have gone by, one of the edges had become slightly frayed, not so much that a man would would notice, but enough that it would incessantly bother a woman. I think she finally reached her limits today with the raveling rug, because before long she was digging deep into one of the seldom used boxes, searching for just the right color of thread. Before long, sitting in the front seat with its better light, the ravels were being reigned in, the imperfect being made perfect. I always think it is amazing to watch a woman as she sews. The look, the tilt of the head, the licking of lips, the intense concentration, the pause and examination, the completion and final inspection. It must be inherent in the female of the species, for just as I remember my great aunt and mother sewing, so too, does Linda sew. When she was done, she held it up to the light, then took it back and carefully placed it on the floor of the bathroom. She commented it looked much better now. I looked at it and thought it was a little more centered than before, other than that it looked the same, but I held my tongue. Good Bob, lol.

Even though we live in a very small space, it does not take a small amount of time to properly clean it, at least to clean to the Going to let nature finish the job standards of the coach labor boss, smile. One of her final acts was to point out how nice the windows all looked from the inside, now that they had been cleaned, by her, lol. Having learned over the years that a comment like this is both a commentary on conditions and a command to take action, I dutifully, though gracefully, exited the coach to dig out the step ladder so I could wash the windshield. It was not just a bug speckled expanse of glass that greeted me. The sky was sending its own message regarding an eminent change in the weather. The forecast had been for possible thunderstorms and it appeared the possibility was becoming reality. Looking at the good side, it meant I could wash and not have to rinse or dry. The bad side is that rain means mud and mud means dirt in the coach. In the distance, we could see the rain falling from the clouds, so I decided a little bit of speed would be a good thing. It didn't take long before the distant rumble of thunder was heard. With lightning flashing ever nearer, I decided that standing on an aluminum ladder in a lightning storm was probably one of the things that the judges in the Darwin Awards look for when nominating candidates for the award. Since that is one contest, let alone award, Flash flood that I never want to be associated with, I climbed down as the first raindrops started falling and quickly put the ladder away. By now the storm was showing its massive black clouds and the drops were growing in intensity and size. Inside the coach we wondered if it had started to hail, the sound of the rain was so loud. It was as if the sky had opened up and soon a miniature creek had formed on the road in front of the coach. It lasted for about 15 minutes, then as quickly as it had come it was gone. From what we had just witnessed, it was apparent where the term, cloudburst, had originated. Not only that, but the bone dry dirt that passed for soil around here had turned to a sticky morass. As the vehicles would drive down the road in front of our site, they would throw off gooey globs of mud and stones that were bound together, something that given a few million years would become conglomerate rock, smile.

Given the weather and our singular lack of energy, we drove into Rapid City to find that ever elusive Verizon store to replace the broken plastic cell phone holder, the one Linda had broken the night of the fuel leak. Since we needed groceries, the navigator had also spent time identifying the location of a grocery store. As a fall back, should we not be able to secure what supplies we needed from the above two stores, she had also plotted the location of the SuperCenter and the Sam's Club. This trip was pregnant with the possibility of being financially devastating if she went to all four stores, lol. Talk about luck, the fellow at the Verzion store took one glance at our phone and said he had the clip in the back. The best part was I kept my mouth shut after we left the store and never Sometimes things work out right reminded Linda what I tried to tell her when she was trying to find the clip in Nebraska where Verizon had no coverage or stores. I will admit that the ease with which the purchase was made and the look on Linda's face when he said just a minute, more than made up for the inability to verbally gloat, smile. Luck was with us in more ways than one, because the Albertsons grocery store turned out to be just up the street from the Verizon store. Not only was it close by, it had everything we wanted and more. A quick trip to the customer service desk got Linda a shoppers card which in turn got us 4 pounds of really great looking strawberries for $3.99. We have learned the system in our travels, smile.

As we left the store I kept looking back at the building. Something was different. Finally it dawned on me. The drive up window for Not a bad idea the pharmacy was not the only thing that had a cover over it, the actual exit from the store also had a covered area, and a large one at that. Two lanes wide to be exact. I decided that while it was nice to have a covered area to load your vehicle when it was raining, that wasn't its main purpose. Think winter, Bob, snow, blizzard, you know South Dakota miserable bitterly cold howling wind, blowing, drifting snow. These people are pretty smart up here, lol.

Given the storms during the day the sunset was extra pretty tonight, in a way, an appetizer for the enjoyment we got from our chocolate brownies we once again had for dessert.

From the explosive force of the storms comes beauty in the evening

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July 19 Up much earlier than normal today because we have to be near Cactus Flats, South Dakota at 9 AM. This is a place that fits the description, in the middle of nowhere, but for good reason. I remember as a young boy, hearing the warning being sounded and all the students getting down under their desks. Later on, they built a new wing on the school so we walked to the hallway and got down on our knees facing the wall, covering our heads. They were the atomic bomb drills we practiced in those early years of the cold war. I can remember my mom saying if we saw a really bright flash in the sky, head for the coal cellar. It was just that way in those years. The sheer power of an atomic blast has always captivated me. Then came the time when I wondered how any human being could be stupid enough to actually push the button. The mentality of, you may wipe half of humanity of the earth, but we'll show you, we'll wipe the other half off too, somehow didn't seem quite right. Personally I think the Neutron bomb concept is a lot better. Country "A" can wipe all life out in Country "B", while Country "B" does the same thing to Country "A". All the rest of humanity survives unharmed and gets to enjoy the material things that "A" and "B" had deprived them of. Poetic justice in a macabre sense. A little off base, but growing up in the 50's and 60's did that to a lot of people, lol.

That concept was called Mutually Assured Destruction, or MAD, for short. Talk about the government's use of acronyms, smile. All this was our reason for driving the 90 miles out into the middle of nowhere. To visit the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site. The tours are limited to 6 people in a group and reservations are a must. There was a brief orientation at the visitor center, then everyone drives their own vehicle to Launch Control Facility (Delta-01) for a very well done tour of both the above ground and below ground facilities. The guide for our group had served a two year stint as a launch control officer, then later as a training officer for new crews. Talk about getting your info from the horses mouth, he was the best tour leader we have ever had. Next we drove over to the missile silo complex (Delta-09) to view one of the missiles still in its silo. This one of those things that sounds like it would be neat thing to do and turns out to be far, far better than you could ever imagine.

There is a certain indescribable feeling that comes on as you prepare to pass through the gate and enter the Launch Control Facility. Maybe the term; "Through the Gates of Hell", was not just a figure of speech.

It sure isn't a garden gate

I wonder what the psychology behind the tranquil mural on the far wall was?

All the comforts of home

Did the human being who sat here think of it as just a job?

It wasn't just something the movies made up

The guide had to leave for a few seconds and I couldn't help myself, I was compelled to sit in the chair. Could I have sat here 35 years ago? I'm glad it's a question that never had to be answered. We have a friend named Duane, who sat here. Some of the stories he tells makes we realize the people who sat in these chairs were no different that me or you, no different than the one with the rifle in the jungle, and they had all the emotions of you and I. Not supermen, just men, men with a different job to do.

Talk about a sense of awe

A long drive, a gravel road, a gate and brief walk and the reality of something called MAD stares you in the face.

They were real

The variety of emotions that are portrayed in the photo as our guide makes a point, says it all.

What would your thoughts be standing here?

Then came the fall of the wall and the end of the cold war. Here is a snippet from a song that we have long enjoyed that reflects that moment in Berlin. Click on "Freedomsong" to play it. Check out the other songs as well, they're great (we've got all the Edlos CD's to prove it, lol).

Our next stop was just a few miles down the road, the Prairie Homestead, an intact sod house, built by homesteading sod busters in 1909. This was the opposite of the what we had just seen. As I have said so many times, the National Park Service does things right. This place was privately run and the difference was like night and day. They promote it as the Prairie Homestead and Badlands Trading Post. The trading post is nothing more than a souvenir stand, and a rather large one at that. There was a person in the sod house, I really hesitate to use the word docent, who answered a couple of our questions, then announced it was time for lunch and went down to the trading post to join the half dozen or so clerks there. No one replaced her and we were on our own.

Inside the house it was cool. The walls are almost three feet thick and it is dug into the side of a hill, which is probably why it survived so long. You can see the blocks of sod in the photo below. The white boards at the bottom of the photo would not normally been part of a sod house. Because the house was lived in for so many years, they were added later, but the floor remained dirt.

The old sodbuster in her home

If you looked at the outside front of the house, it doesn't look all that special, it is only after you go inside or walk around it that can see it is a sod house. They also built a small one room shanty they called "the claim shack" that was attached to it which served as the living room. The bedroom and kitchen were always in the sod house.

Pretty model posing in front of the sod house

From up here it looks more like a living in a cave than in a sod house. It wasn't what we expected.

The view from the top

They also have what they refer to as the worlds only white prairie dog town, yawn. But at the same time we were watching the prairie dogs, Linda found the bathtub of her dreams, lol. Instead of having to heat water on the wood stove and pour it into a tub, this one was the height of efficiency and comfort. The huge cast iron tub sat over the fire box. Fill the tub with water, light the water and a day or so later you could take a nice hot bath, lol. Looking at it brought to mind the New Christy Minstrels song that went: "Saturday night, Saturday night, We all get together on Saturday night." This would certainly give new meaning to those lyrics, smile. Linda was so excited about it that she volunteered to get into it for a picture. As I've said, you can take the girl out of Appalachia, but you can't take Appalachia out of the girl, lol.

But the true highlight of our visit was Linda getting to feed the chickens, guess you could call it chicken soup for the tourists, lol.

Farm girl

After this, we were really looking forward to what was down the road, another National Park Service run facility, smile. From the "bad" we were headed towards the "Badlands", as in Badlands National Park. We were approaching the badlands from the north. It reminded me of when we first approached the north rim of the grand canyon many years ago. The land looks just like you've been traveling on for miles and miles. Then, bang, it's right there in front of you, awesome is the word that comes to mind. It is also not just miles and miles of the same thing. The badlands vary, the overlooks, the trails, the visitor center, the pig dig, the flora and fauna, all keep your interest, even though the place is miles and miles big, smile.

Inded, they are "bad lands"

The badlands are the result of the erosion of the sediments of an ancient riverbed. Here is a closeup of the soil. In some places it is harder and others it is so soft as to easily crumble under your touch.

How different it llooks close up

As is always the case in a National Park, the visitor center/museum was very informative. While we were there we attended a talk on the fossils that are found in the park, which, of course, meant we would be going in search of fossils later in the day. Do I know that woman or what. After lunch eaten on a picnic table out side the lodge, we went in search of the 'pig dig'. With unerring accuracy Linda guided us to it and was soon lost in her own dreams and thoughts as she watched them uncovering fossils, wrapping them for later research and gluing bits and pieces into slightly bigger pieces.

There are quite a few bones exposed in the photo, the blue pieces of tape are used to identify the bones that are thought to belong to the same animal. At other places in the dig pit, there is a rainbow of colors displayed, which is not a good thing.

Training to be a paleontologist

The digging is only the beginning. The plastic dishpan has a potion of a rib bone that is going to be wrapped for transport back to the lab. The young lady was removing and cleaning small bone chips that were in separate pieces in a matrix, which she then attempted to glue together into some resemblance of what once was. What that once was, was, we had no idea.

I wanna help, please, please, can I help

Shortly after leaving the pig dig Linda saw something along the road. We stopped and it turned out to be one of the mountain goats that inhabit the park.

The best grass in the park

Leaving the Badlands, we drove into Wall to visit Wall Drug. Sure we knew it was a pure tourist trap, but the herd instinct took over and we needed the comfort of the masses. It was just as we were entering the town that we noticed a bright yellow RV turn in front of us. Naturally curious, we followed it into a gas station and took a picture. Just goes to show you never know what you're going to come across in your travels, smile.

You never know what's going to be down the road

Wall Drug is a destination and an experience. I had been there before, many years ago, and other than growing larger and denser with more people per square foot in the store complex, it was the same. If you can imagine a souvenir, they have it, lol.

You want it, they got it

Dinner was as great as always, turkey burgers, tossed salad, baked beans and sweet potato salad, as was the chocolate brownie for dessert. Notice the evidence of quality control testing on the sandwich, lol.

Who took a bite out of my sandwich

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July 18 Hey, what's that sound? How about Richie Furay, Bruce Palmer, Steve Stills and Neil Young. So what's the connection, It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound, Everybody look what's going down. Do you have now? Not the song, the group. Buffalo Springfield. I think of what might of been, had they been able to stay together, but it wasn't to be. So why the guessing game? It's a hint as to what's on tap for today. (And if you didn't remember those words, then maybe you were asleep in the 60's, lol.) Just to keep you on your toes here's another one. That famous day in history the men of the 7th Cavalry went riding on, And from the rear a voice was heard, A brave young man with a trembling word rang loud and clear... What am I doin' here?? Need a hint? Its peak Billboard position was #1 in 1960. Still don't have it? Answer coming up: Larry Verne sang it. Still not enough, this will do it. Please Mr. Custer, I don't wanna go, Hey, Mr. Custer, please don't make me go. So what does all this mean? Where we are going and what we we are going to see (hopefully) today. Buffalo in Custer State Park. Breakfast was the usual, though I did put 3 or 4 extra shakes of red chile pepper flakes on my eggs. This was beyond the 3 or 4 normal shakes. I don't know why, they just seem to taste better that way, smile. Then it was off on the great Buffalo hunt.

It was only a half hour later that we were at the entrance station to Custer State Park, the crown jewel of the South Dakota State Park system, paying our $10 entrance fee. The words of the Ranger were music to our ears and made every penny worth it. "The buffalo herd is all over the road, 2 miles ahead." I was afraid I was going to have trouble taking photos because Linda's smile was so big. The solution was to give her the camera, lol. Almost exactly 2 miles ahead, where Rt-16 and Wildlife Loop intersected, there were buffalo, and they were everywhere. Dozens and dozens of photos later, she was satisfied, or at least appeared to be, and we drove on down the road, only to encounter more buffalo. and once again they were everywhere. In the fields, along the roads and on the roads. We have been to Yellowstone a number of times, but never have we seen buffalo like this. It was exactly what we had read about, if you want to see buffalo, then by all means, you must stop at Custer State Park. We had become true believers. Let us pass it on. If you want to see buffalo, stop at Custer State Park.

Buffalo Road block

Another thing we wanted to see was the "Badger Hole", the cabin where the renowned poet, Charles Badger Clark lived. What a neat place. The volunteer hostess was everything you could ask for. Somebody who genuinely cared about what she was doing. We came away with an understanding and an appreciation of a man who was unto his own self, true, As always, not something for everyone, but if your sails are set a little left of center, my guess is you'd really enjoy it. The masses can watch Oprah and Martha, I'll take the road less traveled every time, smile. His most famous poem is hardly ever attributed to him, a fact that actually made him proud. As he said, the dream of every poet is to have a poem that will out live the poet and the legacy of the Cowboy's Prayer very well may continue for centuries into the future. If you'd like to read it, here is a link.

The park is over 70,000 acres in size. We had seen what we came for, but a little seems to whet the appetite for more. So we decided to drive around a small portion of the park on the Wildlife loop. About half way around we stopped at the Blue Bell Lodge area to eat our lunch. The picnic tables in the front of the Lodge were the perfect place and the turkey wraps were delicious. Afterwards Linda walked across the road to check out the general store, but unfortunately came back with all her money, lol. We noticed a hay wagon parked near us, that announced a wagon ride to a western cookout. We smiled and thought of things to come. Soon it was time to continue on down the road. Before long we came upon signs announcing the prairie dog town. Ghost town was more like it. Lots of holes, but no critters. Lots of cars but photos. We drove past on down the road, passing many prairie dog ghost towns. Finally, we saw a dog, or I should correctly state, Linda saw a dog, then several more and finally a whole town of the little critters. Of course photo's followed. Just as we were ready to move on, the group that had been stop at the earlier prairie dog ghost town drove up.

We left the group happily snapping photo's and headed out towards the burro basin, but here we had no luck. There small size and relatively few numbers conspired to prevent our finding any, even though they are famous for standing on the road and blocking traffic to get handouts, hence their name, the begging burros. We did see a number of deer and then rounding a corner we were back to where the buffalo herd was grazing. Once again Linda got her fill of Buffalo as they completely blocked the road in front of us. She was one happy woman and the smile on her face said i

July's Journal (A post for each day,latest post on top)