Just for fun, we thought it would be interesting to categorize some aspects of our holiday. Hope you enjoy this list!
Wildlife seen
bison, deer, antelope, moose, fox, badger, elk, skunk, coyote, caribou, black bear, grizzly bear, brown bear, bald eagle, golden eagle, magpie, wild turkey, dall sheep, mountain goat, reindeer, muskox, wolf, polar bear, walrus, sea lion, sea otter, seals, hump back whale, porpoise, salmon, halibut, rabbit, weasel, squirrel, chipmunk, Canada geese, ducks, heron, pelican, raven, hawk, pike, lake trout, grayling, dogfish shark, skate, owl, porcupine, ptarmigan, black and blue jay, butterflies
Domesticated animals
bison, reindeer, muskox, longhorn cow, llama, sheep, horses, cattle, pigs
Land formations
prairie, mountain, butte, cliff, pingo, volcano, glacier, river, stream, creek, waterfall, hill, valley, precipice, peninsula, island, fjord, spit, canyon, iceberg, beach, hoodoos, lake, pond, ocean, hot spring, foothills, desert, marsh, tundra, bog, permafrost, braided rivers, tunnels, rapids
Plants
cabbage size of basketballs, Queen Anne’s lace nine feet tall, acres of fireweed, redwoods, moss dripping from pine trees, dozens of wildflower species, black spruce hundreds of years old, pine trees gone rusty from mountain pine beetle, tumbleweed, sagebrush, aloe, banana plant, BC fir trees, orchids
Modes of transportation
truck, car, train, airplane, deep sea fishing boat, rubber raft, air tram, ferry, horse cart, bus, sternwheeler, motorboat
Provinces / Territories / States visited
Ontario, Alberta, British Columbia, Yukon, Northwest Territories, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Alaska, Washington, Idaho, South Dakota, Wyoming
Landmarks visited
Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Monument, Corn Palace, Red Onion Saloon and brothel, White Pass, Kicking Horse Pass, Crow’s Nest Pass, Arctic Circle, Bonanza Creek Discovery Claim #1, Mississippi River headwater, Denali Park, Mount McKinley, Loonie near Sudbury, Robert Service’s cabin, Jack London’s cabin, Pierre Berton’s house, Miles Canyon, Lake Laberge, Yukon River, Klondike River, McKenzie River, Mississippi River, Fraser River, Beaufort Sea, Sault Ste. Marie Locks, Worthington Glacier, Meares Glacier, Exit Glacier, Salmon Glacier, Columbia Glacier, Mile Zero of Alaska Highway, Alaska Highway end point at Delta Junction, Dempster Highway, Top of the World Highway, Highway of Tears, Alaska Zoo, Homer Spit, Continental divide in the Yukon, Hell’sGate Canyon, Fort Steele, Minter Gardens, Burial site of the Lost Patrol, petrified dinosaur at Malta, MA
Unusual meals/ food
cinnamon buns from Braeburn, Alaska King Crab legs, reindeer sausage, caribou stew, buffalo/ bison burger, mile high raspberry soft ice cream cone, blackberry pie, arctic char, fresh-caught Copper River sockeye salmon, fresh-caught halibut
Unusual activities
rafting Nenana rapids, halibut fishing, watching a glacier calve, seeing a smoking volcano, air tram across the Fraser Canyon, panning for gold in Hunker Creek, 24-hour daylight, dipping hands in the Beaufort Sea, standing under the Alaska pipeline, crossing the Arctic Circle, flying in a small plane to Tuktoyaktuk, watching whales, catching pike on Little Atlin Lake, watching bison graze across the highway, watching grizzlies fish for salmon, feeding reindeer from our hands, touring a brothel in Skagway, watching a grizzly graze on the tundra, picking buckets full of blackberries, watching cancan dancers at Diamond Tooth Gertie’s, cruising on a sternwheeler in Fairbanks, petting sled dogs from the Iditarod race, visiting a muskox farm, standing on the marge of Lake Laberge, meeting the granddaughter of Commr Nicholson, visiting an underground goldmine in Fairbanks, touching a mammoth tusk
That's it! Till next time! Au revoir!
Monday, September 3, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
Home sweet home
Friday, August 31, 2007
OTTAWA, ONT. — My last blog is being prepared as I sit in my own easy chair at home. Our journey is over! And what an adventure it has been. When we got back to the house, we wandered through rooms we haven’t seen for three months, marveled at the box full of mail, the overgrown shrubs in the yard and the fact that our little car is still intact in the garage.
The day began as so many have over the last three months, with a chill in the air, and our normal routine, except it was different because it was our last day. Once we were all set to roll out of the park, we navigated the narrow roads and overhanging trees and were soon headed east and south toward Ottawa. It began to rain a bit and it was quite overcast, but before long the clouds cleared and the sun came out.
So many parts of this route along Highway 17 are familiar to us, having traveled it for almost 35 years together. We noticed this building had been torn down, that one was newly constructed, and this long-abandoned business had new owners who were making another go of it. We drank in the beauty of rural Ontario, with its lakes and streams, farms and forests, small towns and side roads. There were signs for the upcoming fall fair, rental trucks piled high with the belongings of students off to school, moms and dads in the coffee shops heading home after dropping their kids at college or university.
The highway was starting to get busy with Labour Day weekend traffic once we got south of Cobden. We stopped for a quick lunch in a parking area — did we munch a little more hastily than usual, with thoughts of home on our minds?
Soon we were passing all the familiar landmarks of the outskirts of town. Our destination was not for home immediately; we were going to leave the trailer at its summer home at Long Island, just south of the city, unpack our most immediate necessities and then head for the house. With that, we were off again, with the truck unhitched from the trailer for the first time since we left Chilliwack over a week ago!
And here we are! It’s great to be here. We have a busy weekend ahead of us, and beyond, getting everything in order again and I have to return to work on Tuesday. It has been great sharing this narrative with you, and it has been the trip of a lifetime. I will post one more blog of lists and statistics for anyone who is interested, but for now, farewell!
OTTAWA, ONT. — My last blog is being prepared as I sit in my own easy chair at home. Our journey is over! And what an adventure it has been. When we got back to the house, we wandered through rooms we haven’t seen for three months, marveled at the box full of mail, the overgrown shrubs in the yard and the fact that our little car is still intact in the garage.
The day began as so many have over the last three months, with a chill in the air, and our normal routine, except it was different because it was our last day. Once we were all set to roll out of the park, we navigated the narrow roads and overhanging trees and were soon headed east and south toward Ottawa. It began to rain a bit and it was quite overcast, but before long the clouds cleared and the sun came out.
So many parts of this route along Highway 17 are familiar to us, having traveled it for almost 35 years together. We noticed this building had been torn down, that one was newly constructed, and this long-abandoned business had new owners who were making another go of it. We drank in the beauty of rural Ontario, with its lakes and streams, farms and forests, small towns and side roads. There were signs for the upcoming fall fair, rental trucks piled high with the belongings of students off to school, moms and dads in the coffee shops heading home after dropping their kids at college or university.
The highway was starting to get busy with Labour Day weekend traffic once we got south of Cobden. We stopped for a quick lunch in a parking area — did we munch a little more hastily than usual, with thoughts of home on our minds?
Soon we were passing all the familiar landmarks of the outskirts of town. Our destination was not for home immediately; we were going to leave the trailer at its summer home at Long Island, just south of the city, unpack our most immediate necessities and then head for the house. With that, we were off again, with the truck unhitched from the trailer for the first time since we left Chilliwack over a week ago!
And here we are! It’s great to be here. We have a busy weekend ahead of us, and beyond, getting everything in order again and I have to return to work on Tuesday. It has been great sharing this narrative with you, and it has been the trip of a lifetime. I will post one more blog of lists and statistics for anyone who is interested, but for now, farewell!
Canada rocks!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN PARK, ONT. — This park just outside of Mattawa is the same one we stayed in on our first day of the trip. We took a stroll after supper, crossing the footbridge over the small stream that flows out of the Mattawa River, and entering the woods beyond. There were tall red pine trees standing like columns along the road, and soft bars of evening sunshine sifting through them onto the needled forest floor.
Out on the water was a group of people gliding along in a red canoe, while tiny clusters of insects buzzed about above the water’s surface, and mossy seaweed undulated in the current of the stream below. The smell of campfires wafted through the air, and we could hear a comforting crackle of dry wood burning, along with children laughing and the low voices of tired parents.
The peace and beauty of this provincial park is a lovely way to bring our long trip to a close. The cool air and silence will be a tonic tonight as we spend our last night in our little cottage on wheels. There is much work to be done to get it ship shape again, after its daily barrage of road dust and all the jumping around the contents have endured.
Today we encountered a few miles of less than optimal road conditions, so one last time I had to rebuild the shoe tower by the trailer door. When I opened the cupboard under the sink, I was amazed to see the two remaining stacking bowls (the largest one succumbed to a bumpy road weeks ago) on the floor of the cupboard, intact, when their last resting place was on the shelf above the floor, about 10 inches higher up! I had put rubber matting between them, but there was nothing but hard linoleum flooring under them! We did lose one of our drinking glasses today, though. One dipsy-doodle too many for it, I guess.
As we drove from Sault Ste. Marie along Highway 17, I tried to look at the familiar landscape around us with the eyes of someone from, say, South Dakota, to see what might strike me as different. The biggest feature of the drive was the rocks. The pre-Cambrian shield is a huge feature of northern Ontario, and this was very much in evidence by the roadside. Some rocks were so huge they had to blast through them to cut a path for the highway. There were lots of different colours of rock as well, from charcoal grey to rust colour and beige, and some that were almost purple.
We saw a number of farms, and passed little roadside stands where people were selling sweet corn and ripe tomatoes. But this stretch offered nowhere near the amount of arable land that we had seen in Wisconsin, for example, where the fields covered hundreds of uninterrupted acres of land.
We passed a couple of very long trains of double-stacked cars sitting motionless on the tracks. Just as I remarked to Val that it must be frustrating for the people expecting these shipments to know they were not moving, we passed a repair crew cleaning up after a derailment, where several stacked cars were on their sides next to the tracks. That explained a lot.
Mother Nature provided beautiful weather today, with sunshine most of the way and a gentle temperature of about 21 degrees. The air in northern Ontario is so clear and refreshing; I just love to fill my lungs with it whenever we come up here. The water of Lake Huron was a sparkling blue as we passed near it not far from Sudbury. The pull of the north was still there when we got to North Bay and passed the familiar turn-off for Highway 11 up to Cobalt, Haileybury and New Liskeard, where Val grew up. But our horizons were elsewhere this trip.
Tomorrow will be our last day of travel. By the time we get home, we will have covered some 25,000 kilometres and seen some of the world’s most beautiful countryside. It’s hard to believe it’s almost over.
SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN PARK, ONT. — This park just outside of Mattawa is the same one we stayed in on our first day of the trip. We took a stroll after supper, crossing the footbridge over the small stream that flows out of the Mattawa River, and entering the woods beyond. There were tall red pine trees standing like columns along the road, and soft bars of evening sunshine sifting through them onto the needled forest floor.
Out on the water was a group of people gliding along in a red canoe, while tiny clusters of insects buzzed about above the water’s surface, and mossy seaweed undulated in the current of the stream below. The smell of campfires wafted through the air, and we could hear a comforting crackle of dry wood burning, along with children laughing and the low voices of tired parents.
The peace and beauty of this provincial park is a lovely way to bring our long trip to a close. The cool air and silence will be a tonic tonight as we spend our last night in our little cottage on wheels. There is much work to be done to get it ship shape again, after its daily barrage of road dust and all the jumping around the contents have endured.
Today we encountered a few miles of less than optimal road conditions, so one last time I had to rebuild the shoe tower by the trailer door. When I opened the cupboard under the sink, I was amazed to see the two remaining stacking bowls (the largest one succumbed to a bumpy road weeks ago) on the floor of the cupboard, intact, when their last resting place was on the shelf above the floor, about 10 inches higher up! I had put rubber matting between them, but there was nothing but hard linoleum flooring under them! We did lose one of our drinking glasses today, though. One dipsy-doodle too many for it, I guess.
As we drove from Sault Ste. Marie along Highway 17, I tried to look at the familiar landscape around us with the eyes of someone from, say, South Dakota, to see what might strike me as different. The biggest feature of the drive was the rocks. The pre-Cambrian shield is a huge feature of northern Ontario, and this was very much in evidence by the roadside. Some rocks were so huge they had to blast through them to cut a path for the highway. There were lots of different colours of rock as well, from charcoal grey to rust colour and beige, and some that were almost purple.
We saw a number of farms, and passed little roadside stands where people were selling sweet corn and ripe tomatoes. But this stretch offered nowhere near the amount of arable land that we had seen in Wisconsin, for example, where the fields covered hundreds of uninterrupted acres of land.
We passed a couple of very long trains of double-stacked cars sitting motionless on the tracks. Just as I remarked to Val that it must be frustrating for the people expecting these shipments to know they were not moving, we passed a repair crew cleaning up after a derailment, where several stacked cars were on their sides next to the tracks. That explained a lot.
Mother Nature provided beautiful weather today, with sunshine most of the way and a gentle temperature of about 21 degrees. The air in northern Ontario is so clear and refreshing; I just love to fill my lungs with it whenever we come up here. The water of Lake Huron was a sparkling blue as we passed near it not far from Sudbury. The pull of the north was still there when we got to North Bay and passed the familiar turn-off for Highway 11 up to Cobalt, Haileybury and New Liskeard, where Val grew up. But our horizons were elsewhere this trip.
Tomorrow will be our last day of travel. By the time we get home, we will have covered some 25,000 kilometres and seen some of the world’s most beautiful countryside. It’s hard to believe it’s almost over.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Closing the loop
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
SAULT STE. MARIE, ONT. — We have come full circle. Tonight we are staying at the same KOA campground we visited in early June, just before entering the States on our journey west. The same flowerbed decorates the entrance, but in the place of new blooms and freshly planted annuals are late summer flowers and dried grasses. Autumn leaves are scattered beside vacant campsites, and there is a chill in the evening breeze. Summer is almost over!
It was a long trip today — too long, says Val, who is resting with his feet up after being at the wheel for more than 600 kilometers. However, if we hadn’t pushed it, we would have been hard pressed to find a campground, as there are very few in northern Michigan, either listed in our directories or simply turning up by the roadside as we passed. Besides, the lure of home territory was strong. We are on the homeward stretch.
It was quite overcast when we left Lake DuBay this morning. We had plotted a zigzag kind of journey to get to Sault Ste. Marie the quickest way we could figure, so I tried to keep my navigator’s eyes on the laptop to ensure we didn’t make any wrong turns. In spite of this, we did! We were both enjoying the view of Lake Michigan and the lovely homes along the shore, and then I looked down and the GPS path was suddenly off route! So we found a place to turn around and get back on track.
No interstates today, except for a four-mile stretch just before the Canadian border, so we had to take what we got. Most of the roads were quite good, but every now and then we would come to a section of highway that was paved in slabs of concrete. Very durable, you might argue, but over time, between each slab a tiny gap begins to form, until your vehicle is going ka-dunk, ka-dunk, ka-dunk over every crack in a most annoying fashion! Not only that, but the heirloom Corelle is going ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink in the cupboards as the trailer bounces over the same gaps.
In addition, interstate highways are normally four lanes, so any construction being done only means a narrowing of lanes to one each way for certain intervals. When the construction is happening on a two-lane highway, you get detours. The fun one today was through a town called Marinette. It was at this junction that we were to switch from Highway 41 to 35, and the very corner we needed to turn was onto a road that was closed for construction! The detour sign that preceded that corner indicated a detour for Highway 41 but made no mention of the 35. There was an interlude of consternation until that hurdle was overcome.
Our travels today took us through lovely farm country. I love the sight of fields full of ripening grain and farmsteads with big, weathered barns, a couple of silos and a cozy house on a plot of land edged in shady trees. We saw apple trees ready to burst with red juicy orbs on every branch, and even one that had delivered its abundance onto the grass beneath it. Many of the large trees we passed had already registered the shortening days, and were holding back the sap that keeps the leaves green. Shades of yellow, orange and scarlet were already visible on the branches in splashes of bright colour.
The clouds lifted after a while, and the temperature rose a bit, but only to 70 degrees — a welcome break from the scorchers we had the last few days. There must have been a nasty storm along part of our route, because we passed a whole section where the forest had been devastated. Dozens of trees were broken off at 10 or 15 feet above the ground, and limbs were scattered everywhere. A number of logging machines were salvaging the lumber, at least. Later, we passed an area where a sign had been posted saying "wind damage" with the month and year. There were quite a few fallen trees, but these were obviously felled several years ago. We went by too fast for me to read the date.
By supper time, we were finally crossing the bridge into Canada, high above the city of Sault Ste. Marie. We looked down on the huge barges and ships going through the locks, and on the Algoma steel factory, which looked quite forboding with its black chimneys smoking against a darkly clouded sky. Home in Canada once again! It’s a good feeling.
We may not get a chance to post our blog for the next couple of days, since we will probably be camping at provincial parks which are not wired for the Internet, but in due course I will bring this long narrative to a close. I would love to know who has followed this blog. I have heard from some of you, which has been an added bonus! I am grateful to those who sent their encouragement, because the discipline of setting down each day’s activities for their sake has meant that we now have a complete account of events that I am sure we might have forgotten otherwise!
SAULT STE. MARIE, ONT. — We have come full circle. Tonight we are staying at the same KOA campground we visited in early June, just before entering the States on our journey west. The same flowerbed decorates the entrance, but in the place of new blooms and freshly planted annuals are late summer flowers and dried grasses. Autumn leaves are scattered beside vacant campsites, and there is a chill in the evening breeze. Summer is almost over!
It was a long trip today — too long, says Val, who is resting with his feet up after being at the wheel for more than 600 kilometers. However, if we hadn’t pushed it, we would have been hard pressed to find a campground, as there are very few in northern Michigan, either listed in our directories or simply turning up by the roadside as we passed. Besides, the lure of home territory was strong. We are on the homeward stretch.
It was quite overcast when we left Lake DuBay this morning. We had plotted a zigzag kind of journey to get to Sault Ste. Marie the quickest way we could figure, so I tried to keep my navigator’s eyes on the laptop to ensure we didn’t make any wrong turns. In spite of this, we did! We were both enjoying the view of Lake Michigan and the lovely homes along the shore, and then I looked down and the GPS path was suddenly off route! So we found a place to turn around and get back on track.
No interstates today, except for a four-mile stretch just before the Canadian border, so we had to take what we got. Most of the roads were quite good, but every now and then we would come to a section of highway that was paved in slabs of concrete. Very durable, you might argue, but over time, between each slab a tiny gap begins to form, until your vehicle is going ka-dunk, ka-dunk, ka-dunk over every crack in a most annoying fashion! Not only that, but the heirloom Corelle is going ka-chink, ka-chink, ka-chink in the cupboards as the trailer bounces over the same gaps.
In addition, interstate highways are normally four lanes, so any construction being done only means a narrowing of lanes to one each way for certain intervals. When the construction is happening on a two-lane highway, you get detours. The fun one today was through a town called Marinette. It was at this junction that we were to switch from Highway 41 to 35, and the very corner we needed to turn was onto a road that was closed for construction! The detour sign that preceded that corner indicated a detour for Highway 41 but made no mention of the 35. There was an interlude of consternation until that hurdle was overcome.
Our travels today took us through lovely farm country. I love the sight of fields full of ripening grain and farmsteads with big, weathered barns, a couple of silos and a cozy house on a plot of land edged in shady trees. We saw apple trees ready to burst with red juicy orbs on every branch, and even one that had delivered its abundance onto the grass beneath it. Many of the large trees we passed had already registered the shortening days, and were holding back the sap that keeps the leaves green. Shades of yellow, orange and scarlet were already visible on the branches in splashes of bright colour.
The clouds lifted after a while, and the temperature rose a bit, but only to 70 degrees — a welcome break from the scorchers we had the last few days. There must have been a nasty storm along part of our route, because we passed a whole section where the forest had been devastated. Dozens of trees were broken off at 10 or 15 feet above the ground, and limbs were scattered everywhere. A number of logging machines were salvaging the lumber, at least. Later, we passed an area where a sign had been posted saying "wind damage" with the month and year. There were quite a few fallen trees, but these were obviously felled several years ago. We went by too fast for me to read the date.
By supper time, we were finally crossing the bridge into Canada, high above the city of Sault Ste. Marie. We looked down on the huge barges and ships going through the locks, and on the Algoma steel factory, which looked quite forboding with its black chimneys smoking against a darkly clouded sky. Home in Canada once again! It’s a good feeling.
We may not get a chance to post our blog for the next couple of days, since we will probably be camping at provincial parks which are not wired for the Internet, but in due course I will bring this long narrative to a close. I would love to know who has followed this blog. I have heard from some of you, which has been an added bonus! I am grateful to those who sent their encouragement, because the discipline of setting down each day’s activities for their sake has meant that we now have a complete account of events that I am sure we might have forgotten otherwise!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Got milk?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
LAKE DUBAY, WISCONSIN — Tonight we are camping in the heart of dairy country, and somewhere in the neighbourhood there is a cheese outlet where eight-year-old cheddar cheese and curds are for sale. If we were to pass it, I’m sure Val would find it impossible not to turn in and see about sampling some!
We are a few miles south of Wausau, which is more or less south of Thunder Bay. It was a good day of travel, and our timing was pretty good in getting to the site as well; about 20 minutes after we got set up, the skies opened with pouring rain and hailstones and crashing thunder! It was the first rain we had seen since we were in northern BC. The temperature had reached above 90, so the rain helped cool things down considerably.
Once we’d had our supper, we went for a walk through the campsite and down to the lake. There are lots of sites amongst tall, straight pine trees. Most of the campers appear to be from the local area, as the trailers are well-established with little fences and decks around them. There is a big boat ramp down to the water, and when we got there, the sky was a lovely pink as the sun was setting. Lake DuBay is more than 6,000 acres in size, and we have crossed two bridges over it before we got to this point. There are boats tied up by the campground, and the lady at the registration desk said the fishing is pretty good — but the catching is another issue altogether!
We left in good time this morning, continuing our journey along the I-90 past lots of cornfields and other crops. (Yesterday we passed the turnoff for a small town called De Smet, where author Laura Ingalls Wilder lived. She wrote Little House on the Prairie and a number of other books, and it was clear she had written about what she knew.)
After an hour or so we turned off the highway in search of fuel. We always have to look hard to ensure that the gas stations we select do, in fact, sell diesel fuel. In the US it seems to be a convention that the pump where diesel is available has a green handle, so that helps a lot. They are also pretty good about posting the word DIESEL in big letters under the station name. When you have a 32-foot rig dragging along behind you, you don’t want to have to meander about looking for the right pump!
We turned in to the station and there was a bank of pumps in front, but no green handle could we spot. There were all kinds of 18-wheelers parked behind the main building with their engines running, so we figured there must be diesel somewhere. Finally I went inside to ask where we could fill up, and was directed to another bank of pumps to one side, separated from the gas area by large concrete barriers. So around we went, and pulled up to a pump. We were a bit uncertain, because the majority of customers there were semi truck drivers, but there was one family-sized pickup at a pump, so we figured it would be OK.
No such luck. The pump was calibrated for the cardlock system, and a humble pickup driver need not apply! After discovering this, we saw the other pickup driver back out and speed off down the road, so he must have been as frustrated as we were. We ended up backing out (which meant I had to climb out and watch that we wouldn’t run in to anything) and going to the station on the other side of the road. It was the first, and I believe the last, time we would visit that particular brand of fuel provider!
The flat, open land began to descend and wind until we came to a large bridge that took us across the Mississippi River once again — we crossed its headwaters on our way west three months ago, but the famous waterway was quite a bit wider at this point than it was further north. The river is the dividing line between Minnesota and Wisconsin, so when we got to the other side, we were in a new state.
Tonight the Interstate is far enough away that our slumbers will not be punctuated with the singing noise of rubber on concrete. There is a delicious peace around us with only the faint sound of crickets chirping away in the darkness.
LAKE DUBAY, WISCONSIN — Tonight we are camping in the heart of dairy country, and somewhere in the neighbourhood there is a cheese outlet where eight-year-old cheddar cheese and curds are for sale. If we were to pass it, I’m sure Val would find it impossible not to turn in and see about sampling some!
We are a few miles south of Wausau, which is more or less south of Thunder Bay. It was a good day of travel, and our timing was pretty good in getting to the site as well; about 20 minutes after we got set up, the skies opened with pouring rain and hailstones and crashing thunder! It was the first rain we had seen since we were in northern BC. The temperature had reached above 90, so the rain helped cool things down considerably.
Once we’d had our supper, we went for a walk through the campsite and down to the lake. There are lots of sites amongst tall, straight pine trees. Most of the campers appear to be from the local area, as the trailers are well-established with little fences and decks around them. There is a big boat ramp down to the water, and when we got there, the sky was a lovely pink as the sun was setting. Lake DuBay is more than 6,000 acres in size, and we have crossed two bridges over it before we got to this point. There are boats tied up by the campground, and the lady at the registration desk said the fishing is pretty good — but the catching is another issue altogether!
We left in good time this morning, continuing our journey along the I-90 past lots of cornfields and other crops. (Yesterday we passed the turnoff for a small town called De Smet, where author Laura Ingalls Wilder lived. She wrote Little House on the Prairie and a number of other books, and it was clear she had written about what she knew.)
After an hour or so we turned off the highway in search of fuel. We always have to look hard to ensure that the gas stations we select do, in fact, sell diesel fuel. In the US it seems to be a convention that the pump where diesel is available has a green handle, so that helps a lot. They are also pretty good about posting the word DIESEL in big letters under the station name. When you have a 32-foot rig dragging along behind you, you don’t want to have to meander about looking for the right pump!
We turned in to the station and there was a bank of pumps in front, but no green handle could we spot. There were all kinds of 18-wheelers parked behind the main building with their engines running, so we figured there must be diesel somewhere. Finally I went inside to ask where we could fill up, and was directed to another bank of pumps to one side, separated from the gas area by large concrete barriers. So around we went, and pulled up to a pump. We were a bit uncertain, because the majority of customers there were semi truck drivers, but there was one family-sized pickup at a pump, so we figured it would be OK.
No such luck. The pump was calibrated for the cardlock system, and a humble pickup driver need not apply! After discovering this, we saw the other pickup driver back out and speed off down the road, so he must have been as frustrated as we were. We ended up backing out (which meant I had to climb out and watch that we wouldn’t run in to anything) and going to the station on the other side of the road. It was the first, and I believe the last, time we would visit that particular brand of fuel provider!
The flat, open land began to descend and wind until we came to a large bridge that took us across the Mississippi River once again — we crossed its headwaters on our way west three months ago, but the famous waterway was quite a bit wider at this point than it was further north. The river is the dividing line between Minnesota and Wisconsin, so when we got to the other side, we were in a new state.
Tonight the Interstate is far enough away that our slumbers will not be punctuated with the singing noise of rubber on concrete. There is a delicious peace around us with only the faint sound of crickets chirping away in the darkness.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Palaces and portals
Monday, August 27, 2007
ALBERT LEA, MINNESOTA — As if to make up for the chilly temperatures of the majority of our "summer" holiday in Alaska and the Yukon, Mother Nature is delivering all she’s got in the waning days before Labour Day. Yesterday our truck thermometer read 101 degrees Fahrenheit, or 34 Celsius, and today it hit a high of 92 (32). I was singing the praises of vehicular air conditioning every mile of the way! Those kinds of temperatures make me wilt.
Our odometer was producing some high numbers today too. This is the longest distance we have covered in one day, as the trip counter reported more than 600 kilometers, and we are halfway across the state east of the one we started from this morning. We’ve also moved from the Mountain Time zone to Central Time.
By the scenery, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference between South Dakota and Minnesota. We are traversing the breadbasket of America, where huge fields of grain stretch out to every horizon, and farming homesteads dot the countryside, with their clusters of shady trees, a couple of silos and large red barns set back from the highway, and pickup trucks parked in the laneways.
Beef and dairy cattle graze on wide open fields. We saw one herd taking a dip in a small pond to get some relief from the heat — and we even spotted one small group of buffalo. A steady wind set the cornfields dancing in waves, and the trees bending with a bit more dignity.
As the lunch hour approached, we were passing large billboards announcing the Corn Palace, a local attraction we had heard about from our friends Herb and Hannah in Gillette. "We’re all ears!" boasted the signs, so we decided to forgive the corny joke and turn off the highway for a look in the small town of Mitchell. Before venturing out of the RV parking area nearby, we popped in to the trailer for a bite of lunch.
The Corn Palace is a huge building about the size of a quarter of a city block and two storeys high. On the top corners are onion-shaped domes and there is a central turret, and all have flags waving from them. The front and side walls are decorated entirely in parts of the corn plant! Edgings are done with the stalks, with an inner frame of dried rust-coloured tassels, and huge pictures are set out in different colours of corn cobs — white, and yellow and dark red. One section showed a pair of cowboy boots, while another was a picture of a cowboy dad and his little boy. There were several more of these huge pictures all around the building. Apparently the pictures are changed every year as new cobs replace the old. It was a fascinating display! As we headed back to the parking lot, I noticed that even the lamp standards along the street have cobs of corn embossed on their concrete bases. There is no doubt about the staple of this community’s economy.
The Interstate 90 carried us further east, passing through several sections under construction. This brought the four lanes down to two, but didn’t cause any delay at least. It must have been a hot day for the workers in the blazing sun.
When we crossed into Minnesota the wind seemed to pick up quite a bit. We saw a number of huge wind turbines in the area that told us wind was probably not an unusual phenomenon, but Val could sure feel it pushing at the large side walls of our trailer.
After some distance it was time for a rest stop, and just as we were pulling off the highway we saw something flapping at the back of the trailer on the passenger side. It was the plastic molding around the trailer door! A small curved strip of molding fits into a groove all around the door to cover the screws that hold the frame in place. The relentless wind must have caught a little loose section and gradually unseated the whole strip!
The two of us started pushing the strip back into its little trough, one on either side of the door, all the while being buffeted by the fierce blasts of wind. When we met at the top, there was a large loop of extra length that wouldn’t fit; the heat, and age, had lengthened the strip from its original size. Clearly we would have to do more than just get it all back into its proper place. We dug out the duct tape and our Leatherman scissors and, while I held on to things as best I could in the gale, Val applied sections of tape. Doing the part above the door was the hardest part. Val had to stand on the top step with his belly flattened against the door, reaching up to press the plastic in and tape it down, while I held on behind him, supporting him so he wouldn’t fall backwards! We must have been a funny sight! One kind lady came by to give us some plastic ties, because she thought our awning had come loose!
Val’s taping job was very neatly done, but he still remarked that we must look like the Beverly Hillbillies now.
ALBERT LEA, MINNESOTA — As if to make up for the chilly temperatures of the majority of our "summer" holiday in Alaska and the Yukon, Mother Nature is delivering all she’s got in the waning days before Labour Day. Yesterday our truck thermometer read 101 degrees Fahrenheit, or 34 Celsius, and today it hit a high of 92 (32). I was singing the praises of vehicular air conditioning every mile of the way! Those kinds of temperatures make me wilt.
Our odometer was producing some high numbers today too. This is the longest distance we have covered in one day, as the trip counter reported more than 600 kilometers, and we are halfway across the state east of the one we started from this morning. We’ve also moved from the Mountain Time zone to Central Time.
By the scenery, you wouldn’t be able to tell much of a difference between South Dakota and Minnesota. We are traversing the breadbasket of America, where huge fields of grain stretch out to every horizon, and farming homesteads dot the countryside, with their clusters of shady trees, a couple of silos and large red barns set back from the highway, and pickup trucks parked in the laneways.
Beef and dairy cattle graze on wide open fields. We saw one herd taking a dip in a small pond to get some relief from the heat — and we even spotted one small group of buffalo. A steady wind set the cornfields dancing in waves, and the trees bending with a bit more dignity.
As the lunch hour approached, we were passing large billboards announcing the Corn Palace, a local attraction we had heard about from our friends Herb and Hannah in Gillette. "We’re all ears!" boasted the signs, so we decided to forgive the corny joke and turn off the highway for a look in the small town of Mitchell. Before venturing out of the RV parking area nearby, we popped in to the trailer for a bite of lunch.
The Corn Palace is a huge building about the size of a quarter of a city block and two storeys high. On the top corners are onion-shaped domes and there is a central turret, and all have flags waving from them. The front and side walls are decorated entirely in parts of the corn plant! Edgings are done with the stalks, with an inner frame of dried rust-coloured tassels, and huge pictures are set out in different colours of corn cobs — white, and yellow and dark red. One section showed a pair of cowboy boots, while another was a picture of a cowboy dad and his little boy. There were several more of these huge pictures all around the building. Apparently the pictures are changed every year as new cobs replace the old. It was a fascinating display! As we headed back to the parking lot, I noticed that even the lamp standards along the street have cobs of corn embossed on their concrete bases. There is no doubt about the staple of this community’s economy.
The Interstate 90 carried us further east, passing through several sections under construction. This brought the four lanes down to two, but didn’t cause any delay at least. It must have been a hot day for the workers in the blazing sun.
When we crossed into Minnesota the wind seemed to pick up quite a bit. We saw a number of huge wind turbines in the area that told us wind was probably not an unusual phenomenon, but Val could sure feel it pushing at the large side walls of our trailer.
After some distance it was time for a rest stop, and just as we were pulling off the highway we saw something flapping at the back of the trailer on the passenger side. It was the plastic molding around the trailer door! A small curved strip of molding fits into a groove all around the door to cover the screws that hold the frame in place. The relentless wind must have caught a little loose section and gradually unseated the whole strip!
The two of us started pushing the strip back into its little trough, one on either side of the door, all the while being buffeted by the fierce blasts of wind. When we met at the top, there was a large loop of extra length that wouldn’t fit; the heat, and age, had lengthened the strip from its original size. Clearly we would have to do more than just get it all back into its proper place. We dug out the duct tape and our Leatherman scissors and, while I held on to things as best I could in the gale, Val applied sections of tape. Doing the part above the door was the hardest part. Val had to stand on the top step with his belly flattened against the door, reaching up to press the plastic in and tape it down, while I held on behind him, supporting him so he wouldn’t fall backwards! We must have been a funny sight! One kind lady came by to give us some plastic ties, because she thought our awning had come loose!
Val’s taping job was very neatly done, but he still remarked that we must look like the Beverly Hillbillies now.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Chiefs and presidents
Sunday, August 26, 2007
MURDO, SOUTH DAKOTA — This morning, before we left our campground in Wyoming, we exchanged addresses and phone numbers with our neighbouring campers, Herb and Hannah, from Florida (originally from Kentucky). Every now and then you meet folks who become friends in a matter of a few minutes of conversation, and even though our respective travels take us in different directions, there’s always a hope of meeting again and continuing what you’ve started.
Shortly after our departure this morning, we crossed the state line into South Dakota. Almost immediately our terrain changed from flat, scrubby fields to winding mountain roads among beautiful pine forests and enormous rock formations, all of which were part of the Black Hills National Forest.
Our destination was two-fold; we were headed to Custer, where the sculpture of Crazy Horse is located, and after that, we were going to visit Mount Rushmore. The route through the black hills of South Dakota was very picturesque. The land is still full of dark red soil that the wind erodes from the hilltops in the open areas, exposing streaks of rust colour against the yellow grasses and pale green sagebrush.
The rocks are a dark grey, and they are very high, jutting into the sky like great, dark knobs, rounded at the top and creased deeply with crevices. Perhaps because of these formations, and the dark pine trees that grow densely around them, the name of Black Hills was chosen.
After emerging from the steep winding road through the forests, we came to Custer, a busy little town with motels, theme parks such as the Flintstones and the wild west, and lots of cowboy atmosphere. The signs pointed us toward the Crazy Horse Monument, which we got to just before lunch. This enormous sculpture was begun in 1949 by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski. He accepted the invitation of several Lakota chiefs to carve this monument, when they learned he had won first prize at the New York World’s Fair for his brooding sculpture of Paderewski.
We learned, from the short film they presented at the Visitor Centre, that he started the work all by himself, with an ancient compressor and a precarious staircase he had built on the face of the mountain. He had to climb around 700 steps to get to the top and work away with his jackhammer, but the compressor would often sputter and die in mid-climb, forcing him to go back down and rev it up again. Some days he climbed the stairs eight or nine times!
The sculptor and his wife Ruth had10 children, five of each, and seven of them continue to work on the project today, although Korczak passed away in 1982. They have never accepted public funds to support their work, preferring contributions and the free enterprise system.
The figure of Crazy Horse, when completed, will show the chief in a full war bonnet, naked to the waist, pointing out over the head of his horse at the land before him. "My lands are where my dead lie buried" is the statement this famous chief made in answer to a white man’s question, "where are your lands now?" when his people had been consigned to reservations and the era of the Sioux had ended.
We wandered through the beautiful visitor centre, an enormous building with vaulted ceilings and expansive floors of golden knotty pine, where Native clothing with beautiful beaded designs are on display and current Aboriginal handicrafts are available for viewing and purchase. We could have spent a lot more time there than we had.
After a quick lunch, we drove the additional 17 miles to Mount Rushmore. This involved more climbing of winding roads among great rocks and trees. As we drove to the RV parking area, we got our first glimpse of the magnificent sculptured heads of Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln on the rock face above the park! They are really impressive.
Built at the base of the mountain is a granite reception area with large pillars, and a promenade area where all the flags of the 50 states and six territories are on display. At the end of the promenade is a viewing platform where you can gaze on the rock face and snap photos. I have seen this mountain in pictures, movies and even animated cartoons all my life, so it was a particular delight to see the real thing at last.
Despite our two sightseeing activities today, we were able to make quite a bit of distance, and are now close to the eastern state line between South Dakota and Minnesota. Along the highway to Murdo we saw billboards of an old 1880 pioneer town where you could see props from the movie Dances with Wolves, some of which was filmed around here. We will have to watch that film again and look for familiar scenery!
MURDO, SOUTH DAKOTA — This morning, before we left our campground in Wyoming, we exchanged addresses and phone numbers with our neighbouring campers, Herb and Hannah, from Florida (originally from Kentucky). Every now and then you meet folks who become friends in a matter of a few minutes of conversation, and even though our respective travels take us in different directions, there’s always a hope of meeting again and continuing what you’ve started.
Shortly after our departure this morning, we crossed the state line into South Dakota. Almost immediately our terrain changed from flat, scrubby fields to winding mountain roads among beautiful pine forests and enormous rock formations, all of which were part of the Black Hills National Forest.
Our destination was two-fold; we were headed to Custer, where the sculpture of Crazy Horse is located, and after that, we were going to visit Mount Rushmore. The route through the black hills of South Dakota was very picturesque. The land is still full of dark red soil that the wind erodes from the hilltops in the open areas, exposing streaks of rust colour against the yellow grasses and pale green sagebrush.
The rocks are a dark grey, and they are very high, jutting into the sky like great, dark knobs, rounded at the top and creased deeply with crevices. Perhaps because of these formations, and the dark pine trees that grow densely around them, the name of Black Hills was chosen.
After emerging from the steep winding road through the forests, we came to Custer, a busy little town with motels, theme parks such as the Flintstones and the wild west, and lots of cowboy atmosphere. The signs pointed us toward the Crazy Horse Monument, which we got to just before lunch. This enormous sculpture was begun in 1949 by sculptor Korczak Ziolkowski. He accepted the invitation of several Lakota chiefs to carve this monument, when they learned he had won first prize at the New York World’s Fair for his brooding sculpture of Paderewski.
We learned, from the short film they presented at the Visitor Centre, that he started the work all by himself, with an ancient compressor and a precarious staircase he had built on the face of the mountain. He had to climb around 700 steps to get to the top and work away with his jackhammer, but the compressor would often sputter and die in mid-climb, forcing him to go back down and rev it up again. Some days he climbed the stairs eight or nine times!
The sculptor and his wife Ruth had10 children, five of each, and seven of them continue to work on the project today, although Korczak passed away in 1982. They have never accepted public funds to support their work, preferring contributions and the free enterprise system.
The figure of Crazy Horse, when completed, will show the chief in a full war bonnet, naked to the waist, pointing out over the head of his horse at the land before him. "My lands are where my dead lie buried" is the statement this famous chief made in answer to a white man’s question, "where are your lands now?" when his people had been consigned to reservations and the era of the Sioux had ended.
We wandered through the beautiful visitor centre, an enormous building with vaulted ceilings and expansive floors of golden knotty pine, where Native clothing with beautiful beaded designs are on display and current Aboriginal handicrafts are available for viewing and purchase. We could have spent a lot more time there than we had.
After a quick lunch, we drove the additional 17 miles to Mount Rushmore. This involved more climbing of winding roads among great rocks and trees. As we drove to the RV parking area, we got our first glimpse of the magnificent sculptured heads of Presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln on the rock face above the park! They are really impressive.
Built at the base of the mountain is a granite reception area with large pillars, and a promenade area where all the flags of the 50 states and six territories are on display. At the end of the promenade is a viewing platform where you can gaze on the rock face and snap photos. I have seen this mountain in pictures, movies and even animated cartoons all my life, so it was a particular delight to see the real thing at last.
Despite our two sightseeing activities today, we were able to make quite a bit of distance, and are now close to the eastern state line between South Dakota and Minnesota. Along the highway to Murdo we saw billboards of an old 1880 pioneer town where you could see props from the movie Dances with Wolves, some of which was filmed around here. We will have to watch that film again and look for familiar scenery!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)