Appleton or Bust (and back)

Well, you guys asked for the tale of our travels. Be careful what you wish for…

Here are the Covid Travel Chronicles: 

Homeward Bound:  Day 6 - Been There, Done That

Our final day started early. We were both awake around 6:30 and on the road shortly after 7AM. The RV Park was clean, but sterile and mostly concrete, and the air still full of smoke so we didn’t feel like we were missing anything. We figured if we got on the road we could be home by early afternoon.

The Nevada landscape was flat and sere with distant hills and steel grey, smoke-filled sky overhead. A lot of the terrain I think I really didn’t notice. Landscape overload, possibly.

And we were listening to Bill Byson’s book on tape, The Body: A Guide for Occupants. The book makes for fascinating listening, especially since the author reads it himself. It’s full of interesting and strange facts about the human body. One of the things that piqued my interest was the idea that we travel through a universe without color. Of course, I’d learned this in high school science, but it was worth noting again. Nothing has color in it. All it does is reflect a certain wavelength of light onto our retinas. Our brain takes that information and then interprets that input as color. All the color in the world is only in our brains.

This seemed especially relevant for a couple reasons. First, because I had spent the last few days trying to describe all the colors I saw along our journey. But more importantly to the civil unrest plaguing our country, it means skin color does not actually exist. People are being marginalized and mistreated because of the wavelength of light that bounces off the molecules in their skin. How ridiculous is that? And how tragic.

But I digress.

Surprisingly, visibility improved as we passed through the mountains around Reno and Tahoe. Not that the overarching grey of the smoke went away completely, but at least we could see beyond one or two lines of hills and into the distance. And the distance was beautiful. I love the craggy peaks and plunging valleys. But once we got out of the hills the smoke closed in again.  And as we neared Sacramento, so did the traffic. We decided to drive straight through instead of stopping for lunch, thinking we could be home by about 1:30 if we pushed it.

Really, all things considered, the traffic wasn’t that bad. Slowdowns were frequent, but not universal. It was only our impatience to be home (and possibly our hunger) that made it so irritating. We made it home sometime after 2:00PM. What a relief! We wandered around the house just reveling in all the space we had to spread out!

But then, of course, there was the unloading to do.

Did I mention it was 105 degrees at home? We tried to turn on the AC in the RV while I packed up, but the RV was at too much of an angle for the generator to work, and it blew our circuit breakers when we tried to plug it in, so no AC for the packing and unloading – of the metal RV sitting in the sun. You know it’s hot when you come out to 105 degrees and it feels cool. But I took lots of break in the air conditioned house and we got it done before dinner time. (We waited until 7AM the next morning to clean the thing out.)

Now the RV has been returned to the rightful owners – along with a list of all the things that weren’t working or need attention. We were happy to see her go, though she gave it her all and took us over four thousand, nine hundred miles. We can’t judge her too harshly.

And all those miles, Tom drove them all!!

He did an amazing job keeping us safe and headed in the right direction. There’s no one in the world I would rather have taken the journey with. I love you, Honey.

Well, that’s it. Sorry if I waxed a little too lyrical in spots. I blame it on the Pinot Grigio. I hope you enjoyed the tale of our adventures. Happy trails, everyone!

Homeward Bound:  Day 5 - Smoke on the Water

We awoke in Jackson County Park, Idaho, this morning. The temp was just around 50 degrees and the sky, grey-brown with smoke. We didn’t hang around to check out the lake. We had another 6-hour haul to make, to Winnemucca, Nevada, and at this point, we just wanted to get it done and over with. We’re both ready to be home in our own beds, with our own shower, not to mention with more room to move around. After a stop for gas we headed out around 8AM.  And for the next 6 hours, and now, as I sit writing this, we’re under that same grey-brown cloud of smoke. I did check my phone as we drove to learn that there was a 19 acre fire the night before that we were driving past. There were also fires on the Idaho-Wyoming border, as well as all across the west. At this point we have no idea where one smoke cloud ended, and another started. It’s hard not to feel a little apocalyptic about the whole thing. This is not normal. We were listening to a BBC recording about the elements in the periodic table today as we drove. They were talking about oxygen (and therefore fire) and the host interviewed a fire marshal. The recording was made a couple years ago, but even then, the fire marshal was talking about how western fires have changed because of climate change. One can only think it will get worse before we take our collective heads out of our collective posteriors and change the situation.

Much of the landscape was shrouded in smoke today, but the effect was, despite the direness, ethereal and lovely. I think what fascinated me the most was how I could look out into the grey-white distance and feel, before I could see, that there was a line of hills on the horizon. It seemed as if my subconscious brain could “see” the next line of hills before the sight of it impressed itself on my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of sense my subconscious was using that my conscious brain had no access to. Fascinating. But inevitably, the distant grey-white would darken slightly, and a line of hills would appear where my subconscious told me they would be. The hills would first appear like a cut-out of colored paper only slightly darker than their surroundings. They would deepen to blue-grey in the distance and slowly, details would emerge as we drew nearer. But never did anything wholly lose its ethereal feel. It was like spending 6 hours driving through a dream.

Everything went smoothly today, and we reached our campsite in Winnemucca early, around 2:30 with the help of the time change from Mountain time to Pacific time. We’re happy to be in our site with the AC cranked. (The AC in the body of the RV works fine, though the heat does not.) It was around 100 degrees when we arrived and still so smokey outside that we’re happy to stay indoors and work on our laptops. Tomorrow we’ll be home. I say that with relief. It has been a good trip in so many ways, but we’re ready to relax and get away from the cab seats and spread out again.

We would consider RVing again, though 15 days is too many for us, at least in this vehicle. We’ll put together some things we learned and some things we’d do differently next time for anyone interested. Certainly, we would insist on an RV less than a decade old. (This one is eleven years old and she’s giving it her all but she’s well past her prime.) Still, given the current situation, it was not really a bad option.

My next segment will be from home, and I can’t wait to write it. Goodnight, folks.

 

Homeward Bound:  Day 4 - Lesson Learned

The lesson? Don’t ever, EVER, no matter the provocation, go to Yellowstone National Park on Labor Day Weekend. I don’t care if it’s the zombie apocalypse and there is sanctuary in Yellowstone. I’m serious. Take your chances with the zombies.

We had a good night sleep at least. The day started out very well except for the fact that we couldn’t get the AC in the cab working. (We’ve since discovered that the AC needs to be off when you turn on the engine, or the next time you start the RV the coolant temperature sensor flatlines, and says it is too hot to run the AC. Don’t ask us why.) The drive to the east entrance of Yellowstone was gorgeous. We passed through a plethora of National Parks, each more lovely than the last, culminating in tall towers of stone amid emerald groves and deep blue streams. We stopped in Cody for gas, and I have to say, the slack jaw guy in the camouflage hat wearing a pistol on his belt at the next pump did not actually make me feel as if my rights were being protected. Funny that. We did our best not to engage. I actually felt a little nervous wearing my mask around the guy. How did public safety become a hot button issue?  

As we passed into the park, we saw much of the eastern section had been burnt a number of years ago. The effect was stark but had a certain austere beauty. We humans are so used to putting labels on things… good… bad…. But destruction allows regrowth. The fresh young saplings and the odd stand of trees spared by the flames were poignant, and the stark white and gray of the straight, bare trunks with their black bases were visually stunning. And Lake Yellowstone is such a delight. We stopped for lunch on a pull-out next to the lake. Its cobalt expanse filled our window and the hills behind faded off into the distance. At our feet, fumaroles spouted grey mist at the edge of the water. What a lovely way to eat our PB&Js.

After lunch, our intention was to turn north on the ring road to visit the Norris Geyser Basin. When we reached the intersection, the north route was blocked off. We had heard that there were fires in the north part of the park, but no smoke was in evidence. We headed south instead and were soon caught up in traffic again. More roads were blocked and all the traffic was being sent through the Old Faithful visitor center area. Since that was where we wanted to go, it was no problem and we found parking right away. We wandered over to Old Faithful and waited. As we stood waiting, with, of course, a growing crowd of people, we saw smoke billowing behind the visitor center (and thankfully, behind a ridge of hills). After about a half hour standing in the sun (with groups of maskless people wandering past) Old Faithful put on her show. It was impressive, and the audience ooohed and aaaahed appropriately. By then the smoke behind us was growing darker, though no one seemed to be paying any attention. We followed the wooden boardwalk through an array of bubbling hot fumaroles with one eye always on the smoke. We didn’t tarry. The smoke was making me nervous. But right after Old Faithful’s blast, nearly everyone else was leaving too, so we figured we might as well give them some time to get out.

Well, that didn’t really work out. If we had skipped Old Faithful we might have saved ourselves some misery, but why go to Yellowstone and not stop at least one sight. As it was, that’s all we saw. We spent the next 3 hours just trying to get the 20 miles to the park’s west exit, (with no AC I might add). As far as we know, it had nothing to do with the fires. It had everything to do with the people. The cause of our three-hour delay. One dead bison, probably hit by a motorist, but off the road, and one elk standing in the river beside the road. The rubbernecking was so bad they had to station rangers between the animals and the traffic waving people on so they wouldn’t stop to take pictures. How, I ask, can you sit in traffic for 3 hours because of one elk, then stop in the middle of road, making everyone behind wait yet longer while you snap a pic you’ll probably forget you have in a week? We never did get to the Norris Geyser Basin. We didn’t stop at any other sites for fear of delaying our trip yet further. As it was, we had another 2-hour drive once we left the park and we wanted to get there before dark.

We made it, but just barely. The sun was down and there was just enough light to still see our site number and to back the RV into the spot to hook up before full dark. We had picked a campsite in a county park on a lake. It looked lovely in the photos. We didn’t see much of it because with the dark came the bugs. Not mosquitoes, thank goodness, but gnats. Apparently great billowing clouds of them. And, as it turns out, they are small enough to get through the screens on the RV. They clustered by our light fixtures and flitted against our skin, so we closed the RV down tight early in the evening instead of waiting for evening to cool off. I did find that our bottle of Windex, set on “spray” could take out 8 or 9 of the little blighters at once, dropping them to the RV floor. We went to bed soon after arrival. Tom said he dreamed last night of pulling ticks out of his shins, ick.

 

Homeward Bound:  Day 3 - Of Prairie Dogs and Men

Not sure I’m up to the task of describing today’s journey, so let’s start with the easy stuff.

Well, we discovered what the regulator on the water hose does. Unfortunately, this was amply demonstrated at about 5AM.

Before I get to said demonstration, I should mention it was cold last night. The low was just over 50 degrees. I should also mention that we can’t seem to get the heater working in the RV. When we were packing for the trip, we saw the temp was supposed to be in the 90s much of the time, so we really didn’t pack for the cold. When we were in WI my wonderful sister-in-law, Kate, kindly loaned us a quilt for the one chilly night. Last night we huddled together for warmth under our two thin summer blankets. It really wasn’t too bad until I had to get up to pee at about 5AM.

As it turns out, without the regulator the water pressure is too high. Functionally this means that when you depress the foot pedal to flush the toilet, the water swirls up and out of the bowl depositing the water all over your foot, ankle and floor. Cold water. Icky water. Yuck. As I was cleaning my foot and the floor it occurred to me that turning on the faucet before flushing might have saved me a soaking. Jeeesh. I threw yet another towel over the bed for warmth and climbed back in to cuddle with Tom and try to warm up. About that time, it also occurred to me that there is a spare blanket in our road emergency kit. Ah, hindsight, you minx.

Tonight is going to be chilly again so we’ll try the emergency blanket.

Given the chill we got up early to get the day started. The hills beyond Rapid City had the dark haze of smoke over them. We wondered if the CA fires had sent smoke this far, but the guy at the gas station where we gassed up and Tom got coffee said that the fires were from Montana.

We got to Mount Rushmore early. The morning sun lit the presidents perfectly. The gift shop and museum looked interesting but given that less than a quarter of the tourists were wearing masks and even less were social distancing, we decided against going inside. We stayed outside at the overlook. A few things surprised me. First, I didn’t realize the sculptures are so high above the visitor center. Because of the distance they appeared smaller than I expected. (everyone zooms in on the photos making them look much closer I guess.) Second, I didn’t realize there is an outdoor theater at the foot of the mount. What a great site that would be for a production of Hamilton! How do we make that happen? The sculptures themselves are fabulous. I particularly love the way the artist and workmen suggested Teddy’s glasses without hiding his eyes. Masterfully done. We had read that the artist had wanted to finish more of the bodies. Money ran out, along with enthusiasm. Just as well, I think they look great as is.

The Black Hills are beautiful. Charcoal towers of rock rise over evergreen forests. I looked up why the Black Hills are black. Seems that “Black Hills” comes from the Native American name for the area. It refers to how the dark blue-green pines make the hills look black from a distance.

From Mt. Rushmore we went on to the Crazy Horse Memorial. It was a mixed bag for us. First, of course, the scale of the undertaking is incredible! And the story is poignant. Unfortunately, not much of the finished sculpture can be seen from the visitor’s center. There is a tourist packed bus that goes closer for a better look, but again, no windows were open, hardly anyone wore masks. We decided against it. We did wander through the museum and the courtyard to see the scale model. We hope to go back in another 10 years to see how work is proceeding, though we wondered if it would be finished in our lifetimes. I hope so.

From there we made the two-hour drive to Devil’s Tower. Wow! Mother Nature is by far the best sculptor. Before we arrived, we stopped and ate lunch at an overlook with a distant view of the tower. What a great spot for sandwiches! Once we got there and parked, we walked the trail around the tower. It’s less than a mile and a half, but the altitude added a level of difficulty. Our phones said we were at about 4300 feet. We snapped a TON of pictures. We’ll have to sort through when we get home. Hope we have some gems. One of the displays on the walk explained how the tower was made. The place where we stood used to be miles underground. Basalt magma pushed up into the earth and stone above. As the basalt cooled it contracted and cracked into the hexagonal shapes you see today. Then, over millions of years, all the earth and stone around the tower eroded away leaving the harder basalt behind. Incredible. And beautiful. I do wonder what it says about the white settlers that they looked at something so beautiful and awesome and saw something evil and dark. Why not God’s Tower? Apparently the Native Americans did not have the same issues. There were many prayer cloths and medicine bundles left as offerings and a notice not to disturb them. I would have liked to learn more, but the visitor center was closed due to Covid. I’ll have to do a little research on my own and learn the significance of the place for the natives.

On the way out of Devil’s Tower we stopped to visit the prairie dogs that have colonized the meadows below the tower. We watched them scampering about, one coming nearly up to the wheels of the RV, scrunching his little nose at me as he nibbled grass. Cute little buggers. And man were there a lot of them!

From there we headed west for our three-hour drive to our next stop for the night. The landscape went from one beautiful form to the next. We passed through a vast stretch of terracotta hills covered with gold and olive flocking of grass. We climbed through forests and through hills to 9700 feet, looking out over hundreds of miles of open lands, often with no signs of humanity except what hugged the road. We passed down a meandering canyon of red cliffs and emerald green river valleys where the signs told us the rocks were 500 million years old. We passed through a strange area where the softly mounded rocks took on human-ish forms, a monstrous knuckle here, the contours of sleeping figure there, all charcoal grey and softened by blue green grasses.

It was a very good day. We’re in our campsite now, we’re showered and ready for bed. I think my dreams will be lovely tonight.

 

Homeward Bound:  Day 2 - Two States, Three Seasons

Let’s start with last night. The location was lovely, if buggy. Still, I’m glad there was something for all the frogs to eat! The campground was full of large, spreading trees, shading all the campers. That seems to be rare among RV parks and we enjoyed it. The wind came up as the sun set. It’s been a long time since I spent the night under windswept trees, listening to the rustle and shushing of the leaves. It was stirring and relaxing all at once. (Though it did conjure swarms of migrating locusts in my dreams for some reason.)

The morning was chilly as we unhooked and dumped our tanks. We’ve found that RVing makes you hyperaware of liquids and tanks. Do we have enough gas in the tank? Enough oil? Do we have enough water in the freshwater tank, but not too much to hurt our gas mileage or handling? How are we on drinking water? Does the next campsite have water hookups? Are we on local water or do we need to turn on the pump? How full is the grey water tank? Do we need to dump the black water tank so we can use the bathroom tonight? (I like to call it the poo tank. Seems friendlier.) Not to mention liquids like coffee and alcohol. We always seem to be putting something in or letting something out. I guess that’s just life.

But I digress.

We started the day in MN among the Land of Lakes’ namesakes. Water seemed to be nestled in each slight valley or depression. Coming from CA we appreciated the sheer variety of the water, from the vast Mississippi, to the local muddy bottom edged with reeds. There were ponds the color of pea soup reflecting the pale sky in baby blue sprinkles. There were deep blue-black lakes corrugated with china blue waves. There were lazy streams and cow-crowded watering holes. All amid the lush green that I always associate with late spring.

As we moved through South Dakota the land flattened out like well-rolled dough. The wind wiped across the treeless prairie and endless farmers’ crops rocking the RV and making Tom’s job tough today. Two hands on the wheel at all times! Like moving through time, we seemed to move into summer. The planted fields grew ripe, orange-yellow fields of sunflowers, corn ready for harvest, some crops were like knee-high corn with dark red tops that we couldn’t identify. Here too we passed through a bumper crop of wind turbines. So soothing to see them floating above the horizon, turning their heads gently in the wind.

As we crossed the state we moved into fall. Vibrant greens gave way to browns and golds. The sunflower fields were spent, the flower heads all drooping in the same direction, their leaves slumped. They looked like nothing so much as prison inmates or perhaps reprimanded children following each other in line under the watchful eyes of the authorities. Harvested hay in marshmallow-shaped rolls dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, like legless, headless sheep, or as if tons of children got tired of waiting for the winter snow to start their snowmen early. Eventually the prairie gave way to hills and bluffs, clothed in golden grasses.

Highway signs promised lots of wonders, like the Corn Palace, the home of Laura Ingles Wilder, Bear Country Wildlife Park, Reptile Gardens, caves galore, and Buffalo Bills something or other. In another time we may have investigated, but today we hurried on to Rapid City. Tomorrow, for a change, we’ll get some sightseeing in. First we’ll be off to Mount Rushmore, then we’ll stop by the Crazy Horse Memorial and Devil’s Tower before we head on to our next campground. The RV Park tonight is crowded and a bit cramped, but comfortable enough. As always, we can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

 

Homeward Bound:  Day 1

After a wonderful visit with family we readied to head back home. We headed first to Minneapolis to see our friend Pam, then on another 2 hours southwest to the “town” of Fairmont, MN.

Driving through Wisconsin always brings a few different scenes to mind.

The first, from my days driving back and forth to college in St. Cloud, Minnesota from home in Appleton, Wisconsin, is 2 grey ribbons of highway, separated by a dozen paces, the shallow valley between swathed in dark headed cattails and frilly Queen Anne’s Lace, dark forests stand back away from the road on both sides, as if watching and judging the passing cars.

The second is rolling hills cut into neat squares of crops edged by dusty roads or scraggly lines of trees. Red barns dot the hills with their white silos huddling next to them, and waterlily edged ponds nestle between the hills sometimes green with growth, sometimes a ruffled blue, stirred by the wind. Today, the blooming goldenrod added smears of mustard across the landscape.

Living in the dry climate of California, (especially now) made us both appreciate the myriad ponds, streams, and lakes surrounded by marsh or backed by forests with white limbed birches and dark blue green pines. We saw a bald eagle circling, wild turkey foraging along the road, and great blue herons landing amidst the stubble of harvested fields.

Now that we’re old hands at RVing, the day’s travel went mostly uneventfully. We did occasionally feel as if we were off in foreign lands, at least judging by the highway exit signs that pointed to Verona, Sparta, Athens, and New Prague. Perhaps we should have brought our passports.

We had a wonderful social distancing visit with Pam, Alex, Cindy and Tom in Minneapolis. (Thank you, Jay for your sacrifice making it possible. Hope Pam and Alex saved you some cookies :)  It’s good for the soul to see old friends, not to mention family! We only wish we could spend more time. Soon, hopefully.

We arrived at the campsite about 7:30. It was edging toward sunset as we pulled in, so we hooked up the RV and then went down to the lake that the campground edges. The evening is cool and calm, the sunset painted the sky above and skimmed across the still water surface. It was lovely. But we knew the mosquitoes would be out to enjoy it soon, so we retreated to the RV to make dinner and then here I am, writing to you.

Tomorrow we drive all day to get to Rapid City. We’re interested to check out South Dakota. The day after we have a few hours to play tourist and check out Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial and Devil’s Tower. We’re looking forward to that! Goodnight from Minnesota.

 

Day 5:  Tilting at Windmills

I’m actually writing this on our homeward journey, so Tom and I are trying to remember what happened so very long ago.

The thing I remember most about our crossing of Iowa was the windmills. They seemed to blossom across the countryside like giant dandelions that had lost most of their seeds. They were everywhere, bunching along ridges and trailing down the hillsides. I’ve heard some people don’t like them, but I think they’re lovely. With the different heights, angles, and the varying speeds for their blades, from languid to hurried, I felt as if we were moving through a statewide kinetic sculpture. I hope someday they will experiment with some colors other than white. I’d love to see them painted as giant flowers, some titanic exotic bird, or moving patterns of color. So many interesting possibilities. Or, we wondered, why not cover the windmill tower with solar panels? They are many stories tall, plenty of room to capture loads of sunshine.

Out of curiosity I did check the interwebs to find that Iowa is one of the top states for renewable energy! Who knew! Go Iowa! And it was to funny to see the cows all lined up in the fields to take advantage of the tower’s shade.

At one point along the highway a sign appeared announcing “Atlantic”, but we were pretty sure we couldn’t have overshot Wisconsin by that much. Where do they come up with these names?

We crossed the mighty Mississippi at Dubuque and knew we were getting close. We were relieved and tired when we finally pulled up in front of my parents’ house in Appleton. We’d made it, though the adventure was only half done. First, we get some rest and relaxation.

 

Day Four:  Shake, Rattle, and Roll

Nebraska, apparently, has no idea how to build roads. Or maybe they just don’t care. Hard to say. But even on the fresh, spanking new roads they put seams every two car lengths or so for the vehicle to bump along.  The windows rattled, the stove rattled, the dishes rattled, our teeth rattled. Really Nebraska, there must be a better way! Wyoming and Utah managed. Why don’t you talk to them?

But to back up for a moment. We both had our best night of sleep yet last night, despite the highway noise. Perhaps familiarity is finally setting in. We were on the road before 8AM. Morning routine: get up, dress, make the bed, close the vents, unhook the water and the power, store the cord and hose, open all the shades, close all the windows, secure anything not physically attached to something else. Fill water bottles. Turn off the water pump. Get gas and coffee. Dump the trash. Check out.  (Not particularly in that order) Tomorrow morning we’ll add, dump the tanks and shower to that list.

The rest of Wyoming, and the first part of Nebraska were visually interesting, soft hills rising up to flat-topped mesas. Once we saw lamas among a field full of sheep, as if someone had stretched the neck of every third ewe.  We saw fields of sunflowers, their yellow heads heavy and drooping with seeds. Groups of black cattle held coffee clutches around water tubs filled by Rockwell-esque windmills, while high tech windmills dotted distant ridges.

Eventually that gave way to endless fields of corn, their tasseled tops giving the landscape an amber glow. We exited the highway once to try to find a place for a quick break (To try to sort out the excessive rattling of our ‘dining room’ window) only to find the town of Roscoe no longer seems to exist, except for boarded up and dilapidated buildings. Very sad. We wonder what happened.

Passing us, going the opposite direction, we saw over a half dozen windmill blades, each one longer, and higher than the semi-truck and trailer carrying it. Impressive.

All in all it was a pretty uneventful day. The next Dresden Files audio book made the time fly (nice of him to fight ghosts, so we don’t have to). We reached the campground before 5PM. Once again, none of the campers here seem to be wearing masks. But they did let us order a pizza from the main building and brought it to our RV. Considering it was in the mid-90s temperature-wise, we really appreciated not having to cook! The sun is just setting now and we’re hoping it cools off enough to go for a walk soon. In the meantime, I’m working on updating Lady Blade (Now that I wrote the prequel and changed the story a bit) and Tom has been working on doing a refi for the house and reading.

Our impressions of RVing: It’s working well enough for now. We don’t think it’s something we’d be interested in long term. Tom is just a bit too tall and broad to fit comfortably in the small spaces provided, and he appreciates fast vehicles a little too much to be satisfied with our pace. Cooking and cleaning have never been my strong suit and they are constantly necessary to stay organized and neat and be able to find anything and not trip over everything. Still, we’re happy with the size RV we got. We have just enough room, and it is not too painful to drive. Less room would make living harder and more room would make moving harder, so it’s a good compromise.

Tomorrow evening we’ll reach our destination - my parent’s house in Appleton, Wisconsin. We’re both looking forward to a few days in one place. As Tom says, “it’s amazing how tiring it is just sitting in a seat turning a wheel all day.”

I’ll let you know how our last day goes. Once we get there we’ll start plotting our course back home. If you guys could get those fires under control before we get back, we’d appreciate it. 😊

 

Day Three:  Home, Home on the Range

We could tell we were on the range by all the antelope playing as we drove past! So amazing! They are so delicate and graceful and their bright white tushies are visible from half a mile away. (No, I didn’t get any pics, dammit) Those white backsides can’t be good for avoiding predators. Very bold of them. But(t), I’m getting ahead of myself.

Last evening was lovely. Our site had a clear view of the lake. The half moon lit the surface of the water with a pearlescent gleam. (Ha, you can tell I’ve been drinking before I wrote this.) Tom took some photos of the stars. We don’t know yet how they turned out (need to borrow a USB cable when we get to Appleton). I watched some high lightning flickering among the clouds as if they were talking to each other, or perhaps taking selfies. After our experience in the Bay Area, I couldn’t appreciate the show without a tightening in my chest.

We rose late, an hour late. We were looking at the time on my iPad which had not updated to the right time zone. We both slept better than the night before, though that is not saying a lot. It was blissfully quiet, except for a brief shower which was louder than expected on the metal roof. Mostly I think we were just still a little too keyed up to sleep well.

In the morning we discovered a few things. The shower works, the coffee maker doesn’t. Tom discovered both about the same time and I’ll let him relate the confluence of hot coffee and naked showers. I was at the campground shower during the whole affair. Ahhh, the glory of feeling clean, no matter how you get there. (No one was anywhere in the vicinity of the camp showers and it was a private room, well cared for. Seemed reasonably safe in Covid world. Besides, we had to use the campground bathroom since the RV poo tank was full - the flush petal had stuck on for a while the day before)

So, we also did our first poo dump on the way out of the state park. No shoes were ruined. 😊 In fact, it all went reasonably well – thanks to watching the poo videos. Thank you, YouTube.

For those who asked for interesting characters we met. Sorry to disappoint. We’ve met only a few people. Even the front gate at the state park was unattended. We pulled in. Found our site (with our name on it) and left without talking to anyone other than to wave and say “Hi.”

Utah was lovely, tall, castle-like towers of red or gold stone, fading into the horizon.

My overall impression of Wyoming – from this trip and our last to Chyenne a few years ago - is rolling golden hills overshadowed and counterpointed against a background of dark blue-grey storm clouds.  That’s probably not fair. Most of the day was bright, sunny and beautiful. But the stark brilliance of sundrenched, bright gold hills against dark storm clouds just over the next set of hills overwhelms any other impression. On our last trip ended in driving through a hailstorm, with hail the size of mothballs. Luckily today we got just a few mild showers. I imagine hail on the roof of the RV would be deafening.

The expansive landscapes today were a balm to the soul. It is so easy, especially in Covid world, to feel that the world has gotten very small. Today was a wonderful reminder just how big and how beautiful - and empty our country can be.

I finished reading one of the Harry Dresden novels aloud to Tom as he drove, and we listened to comedy albums, Seinfeld, Newhart, and Hedberg. It was, all in all, a good day.

RVing certainly has a learning curve. We’re still trying to figure out how everything works, technically. We haven’t yet figured out the generator. And it is hard working in such cramped space. We’re just too used to spreading out. But I’m sure it will get easier each day.

That said, when we arrived at the KOA campground in Cheyenne and went to check in, no one in the establishment, including the staff, were wearing masks. I guess out in the expanse it’s easy to think that the virus is something far away and irrelevant. I just wish that were true. I wish them the best, but…

We arrived pretty early, 4:30 local time, so I had time to finally go through all the kitchen stuff they left in here, stuffed in a milk crate under the stove. It’s all pretty gross and we’re not going to use it, but I put paper towels between all the plates (One of which was broken) so hopefully they won’t be so noisy as we drive tomorrow.

If we ever do this again, I’m bringing tons of that nubby rubber shelf liner to keep things from shifting and rattling. They told us this thing was cleaned, twice. If that’s true, those poor guys are getting ripped off. It’s filthy.  I wish I had had about half a day to scrub this place out before we took off. Well, maybe when we get to WI.

I’m thinking tuna melts for dinner tonight. And maybe some baked potatoes. Then we have the brownies or cookies Tom baked before we left for dessert. 😊 The rain showers have passed but the campground here is a bit densely packed for our tastes. I’m also looking at the highway as I write this. We’ll spend the evening indoors I think, and we’ll see how sleeping goes tonight.

 

Day Two:  Out from Under the Cloud

We had planned to get on the road by 8AM. We were both awake around 7 and set to work getting ready to move out. Since the RV was still chilly, we skipped showers, packed everything we had out, gassed up (The RV, not Tom) and were on the road a quarter to 8. (After Tom got some highly mediocre coffee while checking out of the RV park.)

The Truckee and Reno area were quite lovely and haunted in the smoke. The layered hills were painted in gradations of blue grey, which might have been even lovelier than their natural August gold. Still, that beauty came at such a high cost.

What awed us the most is how far that cloud of fire haze followed us. Most of Nevada was smothered in haze. It wasn’t until we neared Utah that the air and sky cleared.

We took a few breaks and stopped for lunch at a gas station near Elko. Tom had made a call to his friend Phil about doing a refi on the house, so he spent lunch on the phone, discussing our options. Seems in 2020 you can take care of business anywhere. (Especially when your vehicle has a bathroom.)

The salt flats were stunning. The breath and expanse were amazing. And it’s true, approaching it from the foothills, you can see the curvature of the Earth. The flats reminded me powerfully of driving through flat Wisconsin farmland in the winter with an inch or two of snow on the ground. Had I been dropped into the flats, not knowing where I was, I would have assumed the temperature outside was below freezing, not in the high 80s. It’s hard to wrap one’s head around that much salt when it spreads nearly as far as the eye can see, clumps in dunes, and is piled higher than buildings where they process it.

Tonight we made it to the campground about 6PM Mountain Time after about 8 hours on the road. We’re less stressed than last night. And we’re staying in Rockport State Park, UT tonight. We’re near a lake and FAR from the highway. So hopefully we’ll get a little more rest tonight. (And we’ll turn the heater on so we don’t freeze tonight, plus no chili for Tom.) I brought our yoga mat, so maybe we’ll try putting that under the bed to see if it’ll prop up the hole.

I’m thawing a bunch of our sautéed veggies, so I think we’ll do pasta tonight. Beer and wine is cold, and we have a few rocks for the scotch. We’re sitting at the picnic table listening to the water lap on the shore as I write this. Finally relaxing and taking a breath. Today was the longest day, until the final push to Appleton. So things will get easier the next couple days. We’ll let you know how tomorrow goes.

 

Day One:  The Best Laid Plans

We were as prepared as we knew how to be. Everything boxed and packed, the house cleaned for our house sitter, our reservations and plans in place.

Then minutes before we were going to leave we discovered we had 2 different addresses where we were supposed to pick up the RV. A phone call did nothing to clarify, but both places were close together so we headed to the closest one.

When we arrived at the warehouse district there were no RVs, no signs, no people. I did find a workman who had some knowledge and sent us to the other site.

Okay. Not a great start. Late already.

We get to the second location to find a bus rental company. We had thought we were renting from a private individual, so we were a bit surprised. There’s no one inside. We ring the bell and wait. We call out and wait. Nada.

Finally we head around back where we find a guy (no mask) washing an RV amid all the buses. Well, at least the outside was clean.

We start the orientation with a woman (thankfully wearing a mask) explaining all the hook ups, switches, gauges… (There are a lot!) Luckily we’d both watched the videos on running the RV so we knew the right questions to ask to point out that a few key items were missing… RV toilet paper, and Toilet packets, the water pressure regulator to name a few. Then they tried to demonstrate the awning on the side, which was not cooperating. At this point it is getting to be about the time we were hoping to leave and we haven’t even gotten the thing home to pack it. Not to mention that we kept asking questions that the woman didn’t know the answer to, so she’d call the maskless man over to answer.

We had gotten a list of all that was included with the RV. On the list were things like pots, pans, silverware… you know, kitchen stuff. While the woman is doing the tour she mentions that “oh yeah, none of that is included because of Covid.”

Great. So much for being all packed. Would have been nice if they’d mentioned that.

So we finally get it home and I start throwing kitchen stuff into a box, trying to think of everything we’ll need to cook for two weeks in about 10 minutes. We grab a hasty lunch, pack everything into the RV, and hit the road as fast as we can. Erick’s deli to fill our belly and we’re on our way.

First we had to pass the East Bay fire. The smoke was thick, and since the RV, as well as us, were hot, we had the AC blasting smokey air into our faces.

Along the route, in one of the horse pastures, I spotted a few horses, a camel and a zebra. Fires, and Covid make for strange bed fellows.

The smoke let up around Vacaville, but we also had to pass the Jones Fire. So our relatively clear air did not last for long.  The simple volume of the smoke speaks volumes about the destruction and extent of the fires raging. It hit our hearts. And didn’t do much for our eyes or throats either.

Tom quickly got used to driving the RV. Though he describes it as driving a uhaul where all your stuff is unpacked. That was mostly because we didn’t have time to store anything before we left, and since I’d pretty much just thrown a bunch of kitchen stuff in a box, it was rattling and crashing to beat the band. (I did put a few towels between of the pots and pans but the plates and bowls were piled together.) I really wasn’t sure if we’d have any dishes left when we got to Truckee.

We did make it to the RV park before dark, thank the Holy Asparagus. (Thanks to McQueen for the Holy Asparagus) So we didn’t have to try to figure out the hookup in the dark. We spent the next couple hours trying to figure out how to store all our stuff in the tiny space, organize, make the bed, and eat. (We went simple, just canned soup and chili since there was so much to do.)

It was about that time I did discover that they had indeed included all the kitchen stuff that they said they didn’t give us. Oh well.

We crashed about 10:30, exhausted. So how was sleeping? Well, the bed is plenty long for Tom, which is a bonus. It’s extra lumpy, which is not, and dips in the middle so we kept rolling into each other. Add to that 4 trains, highway within spitting distance, and the temp in the RV dipping into the low 50s, and it could have been better. I also worried that I hadn’t heard the fridge and freezer running and kept thinking all our food would be spoiled. I also, damn my brain, got it into my head that the RV might have bed bugs. (It doesn’t) but I itched all night long.

Around 3:30AM Tom asked what time it was. I told him and he said he figured it was at least 6AM. And since he had the chili, there were some after effects that got him giggling. Especially when I pointed out that that was our chief means of heat. (without getting out of bed and starting the generator and setting the thermostat.)

So, day one was a learning experience.