The End (almost)
I’ve been remiss in writing. Sorry. My camping week was sprinkled with festivals, food, and friends. Going to the Covered Bridge Festival in Rockland, IN was bittersweet as it was a tradition for my Mom and I. But Libbi patronized all my memory-reliving requests, including going for breakfast in Brazil where we always went, eating ham & beans from the gargantuan cast iron pot atop a campfire, and buying freshly ground cornmeal at the Bridgeton Mill, built in 1823, the oldest continually-running mill in Indiana.
Vallonia Days in the 2nd oldest town in Indiana has branded itself as being “always the third weekend in October.” The Saturday parade is one of the highlights, along with a performance by the Southern Indiana Cloggers. Food was once again a festival favorite, from the traditional breaded tenderloin, three times the size of the bun, fried fish sandwiches, a fundraiser for the local fire department, and Hawg Dawgs.
Leaving both friends and my beloved Indiana brought tears and sadness. Then the sadness compounded when I went to back into a parking spot my first night back out on the road and my rig wouldn’t go in reverse. Remember I’d just been back in Boise trying to get my transmission reliably running? Long, frustrating story short, it mysteriously came back the next day, but the unreliably prodded me to deadhead back home. I’m 175 miles from Prescott tonight (10/26) and when I went to park, yet again I couldn’t go backwards. Who knows… I guess I have to deal with it when I get home, which God willing will be tomorrow! So thanks for following my 50-day adventure.
Well-Needed Break
Ahhhhh… a mostly unscheduled week. Camping with friends in beautiful southern Indiana.
Chilly Hilly
When we rolled into our first of 50 miles Saturday morning, the temp was south of 40°. Five upper layers kept the torso toasty, but hands and toes were whining. After too much Hoosier food in the previous days, my tummy was also unhappy, only somewhat satisfied after ducking in the woods twice to wretch. Suffice it to say, fun as it was to be out on two wheels on a beautiful Indiana fall day, I was thrilled to cross the finish line.
Sunday was solemn, as I drove 30 mi west to my mom's old 80-acre farm and placed a bit of her ashes in her beloved garden. I’m grateful to the new owners for the privilege.
I'm now (10/11) relishing time in Atlanta with longtime friends, including a lovely woman who loved on me during tumultuous times in high school. Flying back to rescue sweet Lily Bell from doggy care Saturday morning.
Reunion Rendezvous & Lake Escape
It’s a blur. The reunion itself was a bust, but what else would I expect, going to a gathering for the class three years older? {Sister’s 50th, to which younger siblings were invited.} But the real party was at my friends’ spectacular, impeccably renovated 19th century home, complete with resort-grade pool. After a weekend of loads of food, family, and friends, Monday Jane, Rene & I (high school besties) drove up to Rene’s beautiful home on Crooked Lake in northern Indiana. Bike rides by day, beverages before sundown. Shipshewana is Amish country, where the faithful shun electricity and all things contemporary, and travel in horse-drawn carriages. Today (10/5) we head back south, preparing for the Hilly Hundred on Saturday, when the temps hit a high of 60. Brrrrrrrr!
Hoosierland
“Back home again, in Indiana….” sang the beloved Jim Nabors before the start of every Indy 500, and here I am. Crickets chirping. Trains roaring in the distance. Heavy air. Aaaahhh…. there’s nothing like the Midwest.
For the most part all I’ve done in the past few days is drive, drive, drive, but made two interesting stops. Hannibal, MO, home of Mark Twain, stirred memories of Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn. Though the town is filled with souvenir shops and candy stores, they’ve done a great job sustaining the 19th century history. But my favorite for sure is the good ol’ Mississippi, still flowing from Lake Itasca, Minnesota to New Orleans. Driving it from top to bottom is still on my bucket list.
Next was Lincoln-land, Springfield, IL. The museum brought me to tears, and inspired hope our country will survive yet another period of turmoil. The attached was one of the original copies Abe penned himself.
Let the homecoming begin!
On the Road Again
As advised, the past several days have been conversation and connection with friends & family, fabulous for me, boring for you. But today I said good-bye and headed east. I find myself tonight (Sunday, 9/24) parkside in an historic town, Nicodemus, KS. Though probably not more than 10 homes are currently occupied, they’ve worked hard to restore and share the wonderful history.
More Friends & Family
Colorado gives me BIG love. There’s something about family, and friends with long history, that’s comforting. After a delightful day with my niece & her family Sunday (9/17), then a friend who’s known me since just after I graduated from college (not tellin’ the year), and now settled in at sister Jane’s 44 acres east of Colorado Springs, I’m feeling very blessed.
“But what’s with all these strange critters?” Lily Bell asks, as she stares out the window, quivering at a bunny intruding on her territory.
Friends & Family
Time with Nesta is always a joy, reminiscent of monumental insignificant times with my mom. Some people are just fun to hang out with.
When I arrived for breakfast Friday morning (9/15), she shared that staffing shortages would cancel their morning exercise class, unless, of course, I would consider leading it. What a privilege to spend an hour with a full room of vibrant seniors. Staying seated we marched, wielded baby dumbbells, and consciously crunched our abs. Joy!
Next came a Kohl’s run for new, fluffy towels, and Home Depot to assemble the perfect pot of plants, both welcome additions to Nesta’s new room. She loved riding shotgun in my RV!
Saying good-bye Saturday was sad, but was off to spend the day with my nephew, his wife and daughter in Windsor (SE of Fort Collins). As we relaxed in their beautiful back yard, Lily feverishly chased a menacing squirrel. So you might understand my frustration when, after spending all afternoon outdoors, when I wasn’t looking she peed in my RV. Shame on me for not “taking her out.” Really Lily?
Posts in the next week will be sparse, as today (9/17) I’m in Denver visiting my niece, her hubby & kids, tomorrow my dear friend Pat, still in Denver, then off to Colorado Springs with sister & long-time friends. Will resurface if interesting stories emerge.
Fajitas & Margaritas
After a night sleeping with the truckers and a 4-hour drive this morning, I finally landed in Fort Collins, CO. Lily & I took a well needed walk around downtown (Is that pot I smell?), afterwards going to see my friend Nesta. After living in Friday Harbor for 7 years, just last summer she moved to an assisted living facility in Ft. Collins where her daughter lives. I miss her terribly, so our reunion was sweet. We had a grand 87th birthday celebration at 3 Margaritas restaurant, and she got a happy birthday serenade in both Spanish and English. So glad to be driving less than 150 miles in the next ten days.
Pinedale, WY
I confess: I was scouting.
Before I ever left Friday Harbor I did a search: Best small towns in Wyoming. Pinedale popped up. https://www.visitpinedale.org/pinedale At 7175 feet, summers temps are mild, and surrounded by three mountain ranges, outdoor activities abound. But most importantly, it’s cowboy country.
Soon after arriving on Tuesday afternoon (9/12), I gleaned a little local lore from Peter at the Chamber of Commerce, including The Drift, a 100-mile ultramarathon that takes place every March. (Yes, peak snow season.) https://www.thedrift100.com/100-mile-course/ I made him cross-his-heart-hope-to-die-stick-a-needle-in-his-eye that summer temps honestly only hit mid 80’s; he raised his right hand. He also revealed the source of all the beautiful facilities - library, natatorium, sports complex, astounding high school and football stadium. Oil money. Hmmm…
Peter sent me to Darren, a young buck realtor who supplied me with maps with circles for finding horse properties. Ready for a shower, (Why rush? It’s only been 5 days.) the Yellowstone RV Park was my nest for the night.
So what do I think of Pinedale?
Pros:
friendly people everywhere
everyone has horses
a day’s drive to friends and family in Colorado
no ferry!
Cons:
a conspicuous scarcity of trees. Think cattle ranch.
85 degrees is 10 higher than Friday Harbor
moving and starting over. I’ve done that.
So who knows. I’m glad I went. It’s on the radar. And tomorrow I get to see Nesta in Fort Collins!
Divine Favor
I cannot tell a lie. I’ve been anxious for weeks about how long I’d have to stay in Boise while my transmission was being fixed, (again… by the folks who rebuilt it last spring.) My hope was to be back on the road Monday afternoon, but after mentioning that dream to a friend’s husband, who visibly rolled his eyes, I lowered my expectations and was prepared to watch Monday Night Football from the La Quinta in Boise.
But I won’t!
I’m still in the waiting room, but they’ve identified the problem (For your mechanic nerds, replace the throttle position sensor & brake switch that were befuddling the transmission somehow….?) and have assured me I’ll be back on the road by the end of the day. Glory Halleluiah!
Next destination: Nesta’s in Fort Collins, CO, who turned 87 yesterday. Tardy party!
Lake Easton State Park
Awakening in the forest without a rush to leave was bliss. But quickly Lily Bell was flustered by a squirrel scurrying around outside. Being the consummate watchdog, she lunged after it and ripped my window screen. So sad. Thirty-one years of faithful service, a rodent and overly-exuberant pup ruins it.
After coffee and quiet time, she and I set out for a hike around Lake Easton. All Trails app said it was 4.6 miles, so I was ambivalent about doing the full oval. Signage was sketchy, so only after hiking awhile did I consult All Trails, and there I was, right on track. I was surprised when soon I saw a sign for Lake Easton State Park, not thinking I’d gone that far yet, but good for me - and Lily. Well, turns out I’d gone in a circle and was headed backwards. So answered the question of doing the full hike. But God… heading back, I passed a couple I’d seen earlier. They asked about the hike - I railed on the signage - and nearly an hour later we were new best friends. (I know Chris P, don’t say it…) I gave Alanna one of my #ActiveWorship cards (on www.HolyHealthClub.com) and she is thrilled to share with her church in Cle Elum. Lesson: God turns us around when necessary.
That afternoon, humming eastbound on Hwy 82, my transmission began to slip. Per my brother’s counsel I stopped at the next truck stop where a man (stranger with a Seahawks t-shirt who I nabbed) told me there was a Ford dealership nearby. Nearby? .2 miles, right around the corner! A delightful young man there assured me my transmission fluid was fine, so I’m back on the road, trusting I’ll make it to Boise.
Background: While driving from Prescott to Friday Harbor last spring I had to have my tranny rebuilt in Boise. Unfortunately it’s not right (struggles going from first to second gear) so I have a 8:00am appointment Monday, September 11th. Pray God keep His hand over my potty mouth.
On the Road!
After days and days of packing, cleaning, and prepping, I got in line at 4:40am for the 5:35am ferry. I wasn’t able to get a reservation, but of course I’d get on since I’d arrived so early. Wrong! Who knew construction trucks get in line at 10pm the night before, taking all the Big Rig spots. After being assured I’d get on the 8:10am, I tucked in for an hour nap.
My travel passage for this trip is Psalm 121. The Lord is my Keeper. He proved that on Day 1.
Anyone who knows me knows I HATE heat. It’s why I’m in the San Juan’s in the summer. So after praying for weeks and weeks that God would lower the temps inland as I traveled through, I took an emotional plunge when I saw mid- to high 80’s. I know, John, it’s 108 in Dallas, but 80+ turns my rig into a hot box. It’s all fine when I’m driving, but if I sit for any length of time in the sun, I’m cooking.
I left Friday so I wouldn’t be rushed getting to Boise (another story…), and that was a great idea. I stopped at Lake Easton State Park, only about 75 miles east of Seattle, with the hope of burying in the trees. The sign at the park office said there were only two spots available for Friday, Sept. 8th. #49 and #94. OK, God, do Your thing.
I circled through the trees to #49. The newly arrived guests were getting settled in. One down, one to go. 74…75… I kept winding. 88…89…90…. Would I get a spot? If now, then what? 92…93…94. The tree-lined spot welcomed me with open branches. I was settled for the day!
After a bite of my fabulous lentil/sausage/kale soup, I passed out for a two-hour nap. After a short walk by the lake, then supper, I passed out again for 10 hours.
God is good.
