When I arrive home it is the let down I was bracing for. My landlord and her people have been in my house unannounced and remnants of them are everywhere. The feeling of knowing someone has been in your home while you were not there; uninvited and unannounced is still one of the worst feelings I have known ever since the great robbery of 1992. All my belongings had been shredded or relocated to the local pawn shop.
I don't like people in my home with out asking. Bumping in to my memories, or plans or thoughts. It is so intrusive. So violating. I see things out of place and I see things messed up, changing becoming someone elses house. I feel like I want to spray everything down to wash away the well intentioned intruder. I am annoyed at the audacity to take away from the decompressing of my trip; the opportunity to ease back into my home has been ruined. I pour a stiff drink and sit on the couch.
I will not let this get the best of me. I just traveled 6.897.4 miles for God's sake'; I won't be bullied anymore.
I spend some time in the shadow of the new living room fan and digest the past 21 days. Twenty one days on the highways, byways and back roads of this great country. I could have gone from sea to shining sea but instead concentrated on the heart of this country in hopes of getting to whatever was the matter with me.
When I started on this journey it was because I was paralyzed in my grief for a life I wish I had. I had burdened myself with embarrassment over being a restless soul and feelings of screwing up God's plan for me; whatever the hell that is.
Surely he did not intend for me to by rote go to a job I didn't love, go to a house that was not my home. and sit around in self-pity, self-sabatoge and self-loathing, or years on end. Surely this is not my personal legend. So I run. I run for 6,897.4 miles. I RUN.
I needed an avenue to forgive myself for the years of waste. Wasting the talent God gave me; wasting opportunity after opportunity because I was waiting for the life I imagened to happen. I have been a selfish silly girl. In my self deprecating world I have been disgusting; unappreciative and unintresting.
But with each mile rolled under me I travel closer and closer to where I am supposed to be.
When I set out on the driveway 21 days ago the weight was heavy. When I turned onto HWY 29 at the corner from my house, the first of many self-imposed burdens rolled over to the shoulder of the road.
When I hit the mountains of North Carolina I gained the slightest bit of courage as the curves are stronger then I am and the wind in blowing the rich signs of Fall up from my radiator like a snow storm in January. I will need this new found skill days from this day but just don't know it yet.
In Cincinnati I struggle with the first night of unfamiliarity. I am not even sure how to take my beloved Louie for a walk; we aren't that familiar with leashes and poop bags.
The stop in Indy is awesome, like I am 14; there is Brad Stevens over there, 25 feet away. I want his autograph and genius all at once.
In Michigan we try to chase the sun before it sets on LakeMichigan and we fail. It is dark and we are lost and Traverse City seems a long way away. When we wake there on day three we are staring at the water and we deserve it. I find this a perfectly appropriately place to drown all my guilt.
The road to Escanaba by way of the upper peninsula is were I studied the loneliness that had become my life and I thought about how overly dramatic I have become.
The long ride across Wisconsin was quite enough to hear my fears hit the white lines. In Minneapolis I cheered on my brother's dreams and when I crossed the border into North Dakota I could hear my father's words; 'You are my favorite, today, Shama Lama' ... and he is singing Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling.
I had a hard time navigating the great oil boom of Western, North Dakota; but I felt my soul come alive in Battleview where the roads were embattled in progress and sameness all at the same time; the heart of the people I once knew were as pure and as real as the day we drove off in the plaid pickup 32 years before. My tears flowed into Powers Lake. All my girlhood audacity returned.
When Montana had roped me in I had decided to leave my regret at the foot of the mountains. In Idaho, I washed my self-loathing down the Falls. The road to Cheyenne is where I found out what I was made of; I was tested in the Badlands, Flint Hills, Flat Shoals, Blue Skys, Prarie Lands, and snow fall. Friends from Battleview to Nashville gave me shelter. I made it 6.897.4 miles - me and Lou - like Stienbeck and Charley; we stamped our mark. We made a statement; our statement.
No one can take this journey from us and only I can screw up the lessons learned.
This is what I know:
I am not a complete muck up. I was not built to be comfortable in one place; like the river, the water sign that I am', I am meant to wander and flow and never stop searching.
So, I don't have that man in my life and the house with two kids. Turns out I have a bunch a graceful women - Eileen, Wynn, Cindy, Anne, Tracey, Amanda, Catherine, Maryellen, Barbara, Aunt Julie, giving me encouragement and offering me shelter or memories or nurishment. It sure would be nice to see my husband, picket fence dream come true; but I am not doing too bad!
In the end I forgave myself somewhere over the Missouri River.
Going forward I have a clean slate; and a rich soul.
Thank you to all who have supported me in my journey. And if I could be so bold I would say to you, don't be late for your life. If you are unhappy; if you are feeling out of place; if you feel like you are not reaching your potential; whatever the longing - don't sit still and wait...
There is a story that goes something like this:
There is a man who has fallen into a deep hole on the side of the road. A Priest comes by and says I will go and pray that you find a way out. A worker comes by and says, I will go and see if I can get equipment to help get you out. Then, a friend comes along and jumps into the hole. The man in the hole yells at him. 'are you crazy, why did you jump down here?'...the friend says, 'because I have been where you are and I know the way out.' I know the way out.
You don' have to travel across country; but you do have to move. I see now that everyone across this great land is under construction. We all need improvement. This is not unique to me. In the end, I am just a girl doing the best she can on the days God gives her. In the end, I am just fine.
http://youtu.be/MPMuxpDNSn8
Monday, November 7, 2011
Day Twenty: Rounding Second
I leave Nashville as I found it; happy and excited. I am now headed to Canton, Georgia to visit with my sister and her family. Louie and I are so proficient in our travels that I worry what will happen to this new found talent if it is not excersised regularly. This next stop is a bit of a cheat; I am just not ready to go home yet. If there is one thing I have learned from this trip it is to stay moving and I am worried everything will come to a halt when I drive onto 626 D. Highland Rd.
When we arrive at my sister's house it is a surprise to her kids and that makes me happy. They like me and love Louie so we are instantly a hit. They ask me very little about my trip and a lot about what topping I would like on my Sundae, some IPAD game. It is as if I never went anywhere and is as gounding as the hardwood floor in Louisville.
Our college girl, Catherine, comes to eat dinner and I pretend it is just because I am there but those steaks look pretty good and I fear are big compitition.
My sister and I drink red wine and chat and those are always the best times. I remember why I am leaning further and further away from moving away and more towards just finding a better situation near by. You can't underestimate the power of debriefing with your sister over a bottle of wine.
Nicholas and victoria get ready for bed then come for their good night kisses and hugs and backrubs. They will sllep sound. I try to remember the last backrub I had.
In the morning I can hear my travel alarm going off a floor away. I leap up and chase it downstairs and for the first time realize my road trip is over. I have no reason to get out the atlas and contemplate todays route; no reason to rush to the lobby for coffee and no reason to charge the phone or camera. This makes me sad; so I go back to bed.
Recipes: Red wine and perfectly grilled steak.
Roadtips: All must come to an an end.
Renovations: Whatever you do, keep moving.
When we arrive at my sister's house it is a surprise to her kids and that makes me happy. They like me and love Louie so we are instantly a hit. They ask me very little about my trip and a lot about what topping I would like on my Sundae, some IPAD game. It is as if I never went anywhere and is as gounding as the hardwood floor in Louisville.
Our college girl, Catherine, comes to eat dinner and I pretend it is just because I am there but those steaks look pretty good and I fear are big compitition.
My sister and I drink red wine and chat and those are always the best times. I remember why I am leaning further and further away from moving away and more towards just finding a better situation near by. You can't underestimate the power of debriefing with your sister over a bottle of wine.
Nicholas and victoria get ready for bed then come for their good night kisses and hugs and backrubs. They will sllep sound. I try to remember the last backrub I had.
In the morning I can hear my travel alarm going off a floor away. I leap up and chase it downstairs and for the first time realize my road trip is over. I have no reason to get out the atlas and contemplate todays route; no reason to rush to the lobby for coffee and no reason to charge the phone or camera. This makes me sad; so I go back to bed.
Recipes: Red wine and perfectly grilled steak.
Roadtips: All must come to an an end.
Renovations: Whatever you do, keep moving.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Day Nineteen: Nashville, Here we Come!
I was looking forward to this day and the comfort of my friend Wynn for a while. If you run into Charlie Rich you can tell him you have seen the most beautiful girl in the world once you have seen Wynn. And the least of her beauty lies in her dark knowing eyes or her welcome to my porch smile; which are both stunning. No her beauty lies in her heart beats and the music in her soul. I arrive in Nashville from Louisville quickly and am happy about that.
My friend lives in a big blue house built of at the turn of the century, the last one, not this one. And it is positively therapeutic. We first take her two dogs, Darla and Sheva, and Louie on a walk in Shelby park so they can get acquainted. Us humans are overly cautious and the dogs are overly friendly toward one another.
We return to the house and relax on the deck surrounded by our stories of the years we have missed and the memories of the years we shared. There is something deeply satisfying about being in the company of a friend you have not seen in years and realizing she is everything you remember. Time has not taken her wit or sincerity and the visit is like donning your favorite sweater in winter.
I re-meet her kids. Eden was last seen at age 6ish and Julian was 2ish. We were headed to see Cindy in the mountains and Julian got sick in the back seat and kept saying things like "this is dis-custing". All grown up they welcome me with a well raised hand shake and conversation.
We drink Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey on the front porch and hand out candy to the single teen moms and their babies, and talk about the ways that are wrong in the world. The smell of homemade chili fills the air and eventually, our bellies.
Eden leaves for a party and checks in every hour as promised. Julian and his friend return from trick r treating and his friends mom comes over to pick him up. She is Wynn's friend so she is interested in what I have to say and gives me a warm hug when she leaves.
We switch to wine and as such the conversation mellows. If is nice and if it never ended I wouldn't mind.
She puts me in an upstairs bedroom on a soft futon and makes a bed for Louis. He is beside himself. I am asleep in minutes. In the morning I turn the car toward home.
Recipes: Fireball Whiskey and a brisk Fall night mixed with the echos of a childhood friend fill the soul.
Roadtrips: There are no miles or years between true friends.
Renovations: That doesn't mean you have to let years and miles get between you.
My friend lives in a big blue house built of at the turn of the century, the last one, not this one. And it is positively therapeutic. We first take her two dogs, Darla and Sheva, and Louie on a walk in Shelby park so they can get acquainted. Us humans are overly cautious and the dogs are overly friendly toward one another.
We return to the house and relax on the deck surrounded by our stories of the years we have missed and the memories of the years we shared. There is something deeply satisfying about being in the company of a friend you have not seen in years and realizing she is everything you remember. Time has not taken her wit or sincerity and the visit is like donning your favorite sweater in winter.
I re-meet her kids. Eden was last seen at age 6ish and Julian was 2ish. We were headed to see Cindy in the mountains and Julian got sick in the back seat and kept saying things like "this is dis-custing". All grown up they welcome me with a well raised hand shake and conversation.
We drink Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey on the front porch and hand out candy to the single teen moms and their babies, and talk about the ways that are wrong in the world. The smell of homemade chili fills the air and eventually, our bellies.
Eden leaves for a party and checks in every hour as promised. Julian and his friend return from trick r treating and his friends mom comes over to pick him up. She is Wynn's friend so she is interested in what I have to say and gives me a warm hug when she leaves.
We switch to wine and as such the conversation mellows. If is nice and if it never ended I wouldn't mind.
She puts me in an upstairs bedroom on a soft futon and makes a bed for Louis. He is beside himself. I am asleep in minutes. In the morning I turn the car toward home.
Recipes: Fireball Whiskey and a brisk Fall night mixed with the echos of a childhood friend fill the soul.
Roadtrips: There are no miles or years between true friends.
Renovations: That doesn't mean you have to let years and miles get between you.
Days Seventeen and Eighteen: Food, Drink, Food, History, Food
When I wake on day seventeen Louie is in my face. He is enjoying this great equalizer of sharing the hard wood floor. Anne makes some wonderful espresso and waffles with Greek yogurt and honey and there is no way this day isn't going to be perfect.
Anne loves her hometown and is very rich in the history of it and in that regard she is the ideal host. Once we head out for the day I feel like I should be taking notes. Louisville is very easy to navigate; or is it that I have traveled 6,000 miles without a hitch? And, it is very storied. We enjoy lunch at Blue Dog Bakery....
Anne loves her hometown and is very rich in the history of it and in that regard she is the ideal host. Once we head out for the day I feel like I should be taking notes. Louisville is very easy to navigate; or is it that I have traveled 6,000 miles without a hitch? And, it is very storied. We enjoy lunch at Blue Dog Bakery....
...and by enjoy I mean I will be dreaming about this meal for days to come; not knowing of course what was to come this evening.
We tour the galleries at 21C and see the free parts of the Louisville Slugger Museum.
And Anne allows me one picture of her outside the Children's Science Museum to document the visit was actually with her.
We head back to her house and nap it up in preparation for our evening out. Well, she naps and I watch PBS on the love seat.
Our evening out starts of a cocktail at Seviche, I have something with London in the title and cucumbers in the glass. I perfect summer drink only it is not summer. Then we head to Jack Fry's where I positively, from top to bottom, have the best meal of my life, with exception of having to pay for it myself. The atmosphere is unpretentious and provides the kind of service that happens completely without you knowing. You just always seem to have everything you need. We start with the Country Pate` and Pinot Nior. It is delicious, and it is a childhood liverwurst sandwich with better mustard all at the same time. I can't possible decide on my entree so I stall with the Warm Fig Salad with Lime Creme Fraiche Dressing. For the duration of eating it I am the happiest I have ever been! There are jerky type bits of prosciutto and wonderful peppery arugala and I am mournful when it is gone.
When the waiter arrives again to take our order for the entree I tell him I can't decide so just leave it in his hands. I should have started with this plan. With another glass of wine he brings me lovely seared Ahi tuna atop a bed of spinach and I am kicking myself for not bringing my camera. I can only eat half and am not entirely sure if in this type of establishment you are allowed to ask for a to go box but there is no way I am leaving the other half behind.
After paying out the ass over a pear cognac, we head out to our next adventure. It is the Saturday before Halloween so there are strange costumed people everywhere; as opposed to just strange people. There are a few establishments along Bardstown Road that we check out but since we are not 24 we move off this main drag and happen upon a bar that has full on Karaoke belting. A couple of Noe Whiskeys and we are seated for the entertainment. It appears everyone is dressed as their favorite rock star, except us. Tom Petty is singing now and Chaka Khan is in the wings. The Blues Brothers are the organizers. It is all highly entertaining and exhausting at the same time. When it is time to go, we can't get a cab. The place is closing and encouraging us to leave but everyone on Bardstown Road is stealing our cabs. Finally The Blues Brothers offer to take us home in their large white van with strange tools all over the floor. Well, this is not the way I thought I would go, I think to myself. But, they end up being completely harmless and in a hurry to get home to their wives. I really never knew setting up and tearing down Karaoke could be a career but these two are making it one.
The next morning becomes afternoon before we are really up and functioning. Day eighteen is more about recovering from the food coma then the walk to Cherokee Park...
...though the walk was lovely.
I try to find Blue Dog Bakery for some bread to bring to my next stop, Nashville and my dear friend Wynn, but they aren't opened on Sunday and Monday therefore no deliveries to all the places in Louisville that sell it so I settle in for as good a night sleep as one can get on the wood floor in the animal room. In the morning I sneak a thank you gift into Anne's cupboard and Louie and I leave as unceremoniously as we arrived.
Recipes: When in doubt, leave it up to the professionals.
Roadtrips: Amazing Food on Bardstown Road and really fun characters off Bardstown Road.
Renovations: Every once in a while, LIVE TO EAT!
Day Sixteen: The Longest Day
We set on on day sixteen with the end mark of Louisville where my friend Anne will put up with us for a couple days; this was my most ambitious millage gain of the journey. It turns out the Western part of Kansas is beautiful and holds the most vibrant colors of the leaf season so far.
I think about how Kansas is that kid in school that everyone says is boring and no one ever wants to go to their house because it is out in the middle of no where and is beige; but that is just because no one has ever taken the time to get to know them. I vow to always get to know the Kansas' of the world. Not only are the Flint Hills beautiful but the Wizard also makes wine.
Kansas City is the longest city to drive through; you are never quite sure when you are done or when you are in which state, Kansas or Missouri. Once confirmed that we are in Missouri we haul it as half our day is gone but only a third of our miles. Darkness has arrived when we hit St. Louis and there is a half second reminder of what is going on in the world when we pass Busch Stadium at the start of Game 7. I am in fast moving traffic with Spaghetti Junction like overpasses coming at me and going away from me. But I am determined to get a picture. The camera sits on the passenger side at the ready at all times but sometimes it is stuck on movie mode and this is one of those times.
My friend Anne calls and she could care less that I just passed Busch Stadium at the start of game 7. Her and her gay Mennonite clinical psychologist friend Christopher chat nothing back and forth with me until mercifully my gas light comes on. They started drinking wine hours before.
The last fill up gets me to Louisville only after Illinois and Indiana give us little trouble but a slower speed limit.
Once I arrive at Anne's she shows me to the animal room and lets me know this is where I will be staying. OK, well at least it isn't $89.99. After an hour of messing with the broken air mattress I make my bed on the hardwood floor among the floats of her dog and cats long black hair. I briefly wonder why I wasn't offered the love seat in the living room but I am too tired to care at this point.
Recipes: I can't remember if we ate this day or not to be honest with you...
Roadtrips: Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky...that was quite a stretch!
Renovations: Just when you think you are too good for the floor; you are reminded you are not!
I think about how Kansas is that kid in school that everyone says is boring and no one ever wants to go to their house because it is out in the middle of no where and is beige; but that is just because no one has ever taken the time to get to know them. I vow to always get to know the Kansas' of the world. Not only are the Flint Hills beautiful but the Wizard also makes wine.
Kansas City is the longest city to drive through; you are never quite sure when you are done or when you are in which state, Kansas or Missouri. Once confirmed that we are in Missouri we haul it as half our day is gone but only a third of our miles. Darkness has arrived when we hit St. Louis and there is a half second reminder of what is going on in the world when we pass Busch Stadium at the start of Game 7. I am in fast moving traffic with Spaghetti Junction like overpasses coming at me and going away from me. But I am determined to get a picture. The camera sits on the passenger side at the ready at all times but sometimes it is stuck on movie mode and this is one of those times.
My friend Anne calls and she could care less that I just passed Busch Stadium at the start of game 7. Her and her gay Mennonite clinical psychologist friend Christopher chat nothing back and forth with me until mercifully my gas light comes on. They started drinking wine hours before.
The last fill up gets me to Louisville only after Illinois and Indiana give us little trouble but a slower speed limit.
Once I arrive at Anne's she shows me to the animal room and lets me know this is where I will be staying. OK, well at least it isn't $89.99. After an hour of messing with the broken air mattress I make my bed on the hardwood floor among the floats of her dog and cats long black hair. I briefly wonder why I wasn't offered the love seat in the living room but I am too tired to care at this point.
Recipes: I can't remember if we ate this day or not to be honest with you...
Roadtrips: Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky...that was quite a stretch!
Renovations: Just when you think you are too good for the floor; you are reminded you are not!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Day Fifteen: Bitter Cold to Bittersweet
It is so cold in Cheyenne that I have the over sized sweatshirt on over the layers of all the other clothes I brought in order to walk Louie in the snow. He is not entirely sure where to frolic and I am way behind slipping around.
There is the train that kept us up all night.
There is the train that kept us up all night.
And the serene heartland to enjoy.
We have have lofty goals of getting to Kansas City today. I fuel up and am looking for coffee and find it free if I buy this,
So what is a girl to do.
We enjoy the snow for miles and miles, then into Nebraska we can see for miles again and there is no more edge of the world.
We stop off at different sights along the route; Buffalo Bills Ranch and the original Pony Express station; Louie likes that he can run around and I like the history. At the station a gentleman rides in on his Harley and I hope my lipstick is still on. He is wearing a ski mask and never takes it off; is this what Mary Chapin Carpenter means by a stranger's coat? He chats with me about the beauty of the park then we board our steeds and turns out he is going West and I am going East. Story of my life.
Eventually I have to give in to the fact that Kansas City was just too lofty of a goal. So we pull off at the first hotel I see to borrow the WiFi and start to look for something a little more manageable. It ends up being Salina, KS; this will put me at three more hours of miles in the dark.
Driving in the dark unknown has my thoughts wander and overlap. I think about that women on CNN and wonder why no one tells her she shouldn't where her hair so big. I think about each leg of this journey and how I have grown to not immediately jump to melancholy but instead be at peace in the dark moments of life. They happen to everyone, and in that the highway becomes a common place.
When I check into my hotel I realize it will probably the last of the journey as I am trying to get to Louisville to see my friend Anne for the last leg of the trip. Louie and I repeat the steps of check-in, run around, unload, kick-back. I write and read he washes and stretches out. What ever will we do when we get home.
Eventually we will have to go there, and that is bittersweet.
Recipes: Throw a banana in with that Cinabon and free coffee just to balance things out.
Roadtrips: Lonely highways in the dark is where we are most alike.
Renovations: I have to take what I am learning and apply it.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Day Fourteen: Over the Mountains and Through the Snow
When I wake on day 14, Louie already had his leash on and finished his K&B breakfast. He knew we were by that park and had been dreaming of chasing geese all night. It was cold; so I break out the over sized Nantucket sweatshirt and put on the earmuffs; don the tennis shoes and we are off.
We start out at church. Then end up with a rush.
We start out at church. Then end up with a rush.
And as if Idaho Falls could not get any better there is oatmeal on the continental breakfast bar!
We scurry out to see more of Idaho...
...in route to today's destination.
We have mapped out a route to avoid Colorado because there is a storm dumping 2 feet of snow on them. Our goal today is to get to Cheyenne, Wyoming by way of the Grand Tetons...
...which is by no means a straight shot.
When in the park, a ranger makes a dramatic entrance and pulls me over. At my car window he says he 'clocked me going a little fast'. As I sit scouting for moose while he writes up my warning, I wonder what the speed limit actually is. When he returns he tells me that the speed limit fluctuates throughout Teton County but it never goes over 55. He doesn't ever tell me what my speed was in what zone; which makes me think he has no idea what the speed limit is in this stretch either.
I find myself elevating and though there are Beware of Wild Animal signs everywhere this park is not nearly as generous with the game as Yellowstone was. Before I know it, it is construction time again.
Once I can go SLOW, I notice the guard rails disappear and the edge of the mountain is in my throat. I feel my body heat rise, my hands are sweating on the wheel, and I am imagining the worst.
Louie will accidentally open his door and plummet to the bottom of the Tetons; I will get distracted by a bear sighting and send us rolling end over end to the gloomy perspective that no one will come and get us silly tourists. Or worse yet, it is a Suicide Driver in the pilot car. The pavement disappears and it is just big truck full of dirt after big truck passing me on one side, and literally, the edge of the world on the other. I want to replace the Dixie Chicks with Chris Tomlin so I can feel God closer; but there is no way I am veering from 10 and 2. My hands start to cramp.
Eventually it ends.
Only to begin again.
I don't realize until I hit the pillow in Cheyenne that this was only the second and third worse part of the drive. The best of the worst was yet to come.
Eventually, I release the death grips and enjoy some more of Wyoming.
Highway 287 gets me to Rawlins which eventually gets me to Laramie then all hell breaks loose. I have been lonely in the dark for a couple of hours now and have no idea what the landscape is like outside the scope of my headlights. There is a moment, almost instant, where I am in complete fog and have lost the taillights in front of me. Panic braking sets in and Louie senses danger and puts his paw in its place on my shoulder. I desperately want to pull off to the side and try to get my bearings but I remember the mountain with no shoulder and since I can't see 10 feet in front of me I just continue dash by dash. There are crosswinds that shake us from side to side as we pathetically scoot forward.
As quickly as we happened upon this; the fog lifts and wind subsides; only to begin again and again and the pattern doesn't fool me twice.
It feels like 14 days but I finally reach my exit. As I take my place at the light at the bottom of the hill this is what I see to my right:
So much for avoiding the snow storm. I mourn Colorado.
I feel like my harrowing day deserves a glass of wine so I search convenient store after convenient store only to conclude the worst; surly to God this is not a dry town. Then I spot a sign reading Lounge and Package Liquor Store. When I go in there is a strong smell of downtown Athens Saturday night ally stench in the air. There are people hooking up in the Lounge and chicken wire and bars on the liquor in the Package.
I opt for a brown bag size bottle of bourbon and the girl I thought was hooking up with a boy in a University of Wyoming sweatshirt comes to unlock the elixir. I am confused by the whole scenario.
Louie and I slip and slide into our hotel room and my one shot of bourbon sends me dreaming of the great Midwest moments of my life.
Recipes: Who can eat on a day like this!
Roadtrips: On the news tonight a trucker was being interviewed and he stated that the stretch from Laramie to Cheyenne is the worst and can really test even the most experienced drivers. No shit!
Renovations: I can conquer the edge of the mountain and the thick fog after all.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Day Thirteen: Lunch with a Legend and Dinner with a River
My stamina is wearing thin on day thirteen. All I want to do is sleep but what a ridiculous thing to do when in Montana. So I slowly stumble to the kitchen for some coffee; the continental breakfast is sad as most of them have been. Would it kill them to put out a banana; an apple? Carbs everywhere. A bagel, an English muffin, a blueberry muffin, lucky charms. I pour the usual OJ and coffee with two creams and follow the whining sound back to my room. Louie is on day thirteen of this trip and he still hasn't figured out the routine. But he has been a perfect dog. Except today when he snapped at the guy changing my oil in Montana. Other then that he behaves, enjoys the scenery, drinks from the rivers and is my best friend. There are portions of the journey where he steadies himself by putting one paw on my shoulder and the other on the seat back. He will freeze in that position for hours and down the road of companionship we go.
This morning my friend Wynn has arranged for me to have some human contact.. Her friend Cliff is free for lunch. We meet in Livingston and he is funny and familiar. He helps me get my oil changed and we eat soup in town. He talks loud about people in the room, and says 'what's that?' a lot. So it is an entertaining time. He has to be in his sixties maybe and said 'I just want to bitch slap him' when talking about a character in his life. The volume alone gave me cause to want to laugh out loud but then on contemplation I don't think I have ever heard a retiree use those words so then I had no choice but to spew my water.
I feel like I can come back here again and again and Cliff will help me with my oil changes and help me find a place to stay and eat soup with me. I feel lucky.
Cliff gives me a route to take to Idaho Falls and I follow it to the letter. I am proud to say that in over 4000 miles traveled there can't be more then 500-600 miles traveled on an interstate. This route is no different. It is the lovely combination of all mine and no one's.
Louie and I stop for water at the Warm Springs Creek.
Then we make the last turn for Idaho Falls.
This morning my friend Wynn has arranged for me to have some human contact.. Her friend Cliff is free for lunch. We meet in Livingston and he is funny and familiar. He helps me get my oil changed and we eat soup in town. He talks loud about people in the room, and says 'what's that?' a lot. So it is an entertaining time. He has to be in his sixties maybe and said 'I just want to bitch slap him' when talking about a character in his life. The volume alone gave me cause to want to laugh out loud but then on contemplation I don't think I have ever heard a retiree use those words so then I had no choice but to spew my water.
I feel like I can come back here again and again and Cliff will help me with my oil changes and help me find a place to stay and eat soup with me. I feel lucky.
Cliff gives me a route to take to Idaho Falls and I follow it to the letter. I am proud to say that in over 4000 miles traveled there can't be more then 500-600 miles traveled on an interstate. This route is no different. It is the lovely combination of all mine and no one's.
Then we make the last turn for Idaho Falls.
My hotel is right on the river and this is the first time I have arrived at my destination in the daylight. So, Louie and I follow yet another river route and when we return to the hotel we eat a bison burger and kibbles and bits. Then, we call it a good day 13!
Recipes: Hot soup and a story teller will always nourish you.
Roadtrips: I used to travel to the oceans, but now, I am drawn to the rivers.
Renovations: I am growing.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Day Twelve: 4000 Miles Rolled
The little KIA rolled its 4000th mile today.
And judging from the grill, it has picked up a bug for every mile. We shower and load and take the car for a shower of its own. Then, we head to Yellowstone. I don't have a particular plan for the day and that is no different really then any other day.
I am drunk on the scenery...
...and wonder if I should be driving.
I think about my friend Wynn who lived in this area at one time. Her beauty is similar. I wish she were in the passenger seat spouting Montana stories.
I think about my nieces and nephews and wish I could have brought them on this adventure so they could see this great, beautiful country they will inherit.
Four thousand miles and I still have not found him yet. But I know he is out here somewhere.
My thoughts bounce.
Then I get busy site seeing.
I make it to Old Faithful at just the right moment...
...it reminds me that timing is everything. I hope that wasn't him who just left in the black pickup.
I trace the Gallatin River up to Bozeman; night is approaching but the trail is still amazing. I spend the night here in Bozeman; just 30 minutes from where I spent the night last night. At this rate I will never get back to Georgia. It is supposed to snow tonight and I am 9 years old again and it is Christmas Eve and I am waiting on Santa Claus.
Recipes: A little Elk here, a Buffalo there...blend with hot springs and enjoy!
Roadtrips: Montana, Wyoming, Idaho, Montana....pull over as often as you can so you can soak it all in.
Renovations: I fear I will be hungover tomorrow.
Days Ten & Eleven: I can't seem to turn this car around.
Day ten started with me going on one last tour of my former hometown; and the mansion on the hill that has covered up my old house.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjPLvDU-xl8
What a monstrosity. No more quaintness or charm. Our dog Kelly is buried somewhere under the mote.
We head to the Smishek Lake where the big one got away from Daddy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjPLvDU-xl8
What a monstrosity. No more quaintness or charm. Our dog Kelly is buried somewhere under the mote.
We head to the Smishek Lake where the big one got away from Daddy.
And we make one last pass through Powers Lake.
Then, we hit the highway with the goal of making it to Livingston, Montana.
I must hunker down if I want to make this goal; but I keep getting distracted by the oil wells
And Man Camps...
Every street corner is filled with now hiring signs. And there is an ad on the radio about a job fair with some oil company where the starting pay is $600-700 dollars a DAY. I imagine myself working the oil fields and I look pretty good. I could cook meatloaf and mashed potatoes for the men at the camps and cherry pie on Sundays. I use the miles to plan the menus for my man camp food truck.
Hours later I arrive in Livingston and crash for all of day eleven. And if you are going to crash, Livingston is not a bad place to do it.
Recipes: I am so full! Was it the Spicy Basil Shrimp from the Thai restaurant or the loveliness of this town? I'll never know.
Roadtrips: At some point I have to turn around.
Renovations: I am 3,800 miles from the person I used to be.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Day Nine: Slow This Trip Down
When I wake on Friday morning, day nine, I remember I do not have to race to the continental breakfast area for apple juice and I smell coffee already in the air. The only reason I get up is because I know I have someone to talk to this morning.
When I come into the living room where Glennis is watching the morning news, I can see through the bay window that it is a beautiful morning. Louie is in heaven breaking from the routine of leash and little free roaming. He frolics and investigates on the open range.
When Eileen arrives back out she brings yummy flavored cream for the coffee and I don't ever want to leave this kitchen table. But eventually we do head into Powers Lake where she takes me down memory lane.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiQ55GhgsR4
We have lunch at the cafe that I need to buy. I already have a plan for it; the decor will have to go the unfriendly waitstaff will need a Robert Irvine overhaul and my food will be contagious; everyone will be catching a bite. Eileen's daughter Taylor is with us and she is pretty and witty and the perfect dose of teenager. I feel like I am at a cafe with my own family. I mean at my cafe.
The town of Powers Lake is 37 seconds from end to end. But the memories I have of it have traveled the hundreds of thousands of miles of the years of my life. I see Daddy walking up the sidewalk by the boarding school on his way to fix a pipe. I can taste Annie Kraft's cake with the surprise cherry filling. The Northern Pike are slipping from my line and my brother is helping me reel it in. I feel the snowballs hitting my shoulder. There are my jeans with the burlap piping; I am wearing them everyday. Father Nelson's garlic breath is seeping through the confessional. My beenie is blowing in the wind. I am going sledding.
The afternoon is a little of sitting around and a lot of enjoying the company. Back at Glennis' house Eileen takes me to see the show rabbits and goats that Kenny's wife and daughter raise and show. Kenny is in the yard working under the hood of an ATV. When I see him I am 10 again and my tongue is all caught up in a crush and my eyes are all caught up in watching my shoes make silly circles in the dirt. His daughter Sadie has the most beautiful complexion I have ever seen and she is as tall as me as a sixth grader. She shows off her bunnies and her goats.
.
When I come into the living room where Glennis is watching the morning news, I can see through the bay window that it is a beautiful morning. Louie is in heaven breaking from the routine of leash and little free roaming. He frolics and investigates on the open range.
When Eileen arrives back out she brings yummy flavored cream for the coffee and I don't ever want to leave this kitchen table. But eventually we do head into Powers Lake where she takes me down memory lane.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiQ55GhgsR4
We have lunch at the cafe that I need to buy. I already have a plan for it; the decor will have to go the unfriendly waitstaff will need a Robert Irvine overhaul and my food will be contagious; everyone will be catching a bite. Eileen's daughter Taylor is with us and she is pretty and witty and the perfect dose of teenager. I feel like I am at a cafe with my own family. I mean at my cafe.
The town of Powers Lake is 37 seconds from end to end. But the memories I have of it have traveled the hundreds of thousands of miles of the years of my life. I see Daddy walking up the sidewalk by the boarding school on his way to fix a pipe. I can taste Annie Kraft's cake with the surprise cherry filling. The Northern Pike are slipping from my line and my brother is helping me reel it in. I feel the snowballs hitting my shoulder. There are my jeans with the burlap piping; I am wearing them everyday. Father Nelson's garlic breath is seeping through the confessional. My beenie is blowing in the wind. I am going sledding.
The afternoon is a little of sitting around and a lot of enjoying the company. Back at Glennis' house Eileen takes me to see the show rabbits and goats that Kenny's wife and daughter raise and show. Kenny is in the yard working under the hood of an ATV. When I see him I am 10 again and my tongue is all caught up in a crush and my eyes are all caught up in watching my shoes make silly circles in the dirt. His daughter Sadie has the most beautiful complexion I have ever seen and she is as tall as me as a sixth grader. She shows off her bunnies and her goats.
She introduces me to all the cats as I literally choke Louie back from chasing them and then her and Aunt Eileen pose by the horses.
I of course don't have a picture of Kenny because that would be like Jessica asking Bill Kauiltz for a picture.
After a perfect spaghetti supper cooked by Glennis and enjoyed my Eileen's kids Cooper and Taylor and me and Eileen; Eileen and I head to the bar that was a schoolhouse in Battleview and another childhood friend, Teri, and her husband join us. Eileen's husband makes it up from Bismark too; he is the spiting image of his son only he has facial hair. We drink beer and bourbon and different characters frequent our table. There is a dog, a very energetic blond and a sports trivia encyclopedia in the form of a 23ish year old who I stumped on the Secretariat question. And proudly I was able to answer 13 of his 15 useless bits of stats and who done its.
We close the bar as you should do if you have traveled 3000 miles and I want to know these folks forever.
.
Recipes: Never underestimate the power of a spaghetti supper.
Roadtrips: The road from the Maruskie's to our old house is still a single lane dirt road; and there ain't nothing wrong with that. I have a theory; God must have set it up this way so only the fortunate can travel it.
Renovations: I am pretty sure I want to be good like these people of the Great Western North Dakota.
Day Eight: The Badlands Then Home
It is that point in the roadtrip where I don't know what day it is or how many days I have been traveling. I have to pull out a calender.
On day eight, I came back from Miles City with the goal of reaching Powers Lake, North Dakota for the night. Powers Lake is a town where I had gone to school when I was a 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th grader (remember 4th grade was spent in New England from day six, I think it was day six anyway).
Because of this Western North Dakota oil boom there is no way to get lodging if you are passing through. So I am excited to be headed to the Maruskie's home in Battleview, were I lived as a child: Battleview, not at the Maruskies, to spend a night or two. The Maruskie's are a family who took care of my family when we were fish out of water living in North Dakota 32 years ago. Collectively they are some of the best human stock I have known in all my travels and all these 32 years since. I have always had a memory for them, each member.
Eileen was my age and she was always the prettiest girl, not like us who feel like we need makeup and hair products. Kenny, who was my sister's age, was the one I had a crush on, my first I think. I will act cool if I get to see him. Scott was precocious. Ray was interesting and Daryl was a grown up. Glennis and Nealon, the parents, were good to us everyday; and you never forget that no matter what your age.
Circa 2011, the trip to Powers Lake/Battleview is a memory maker as well. I decide to go to the Teddy Roosevelt National Park and enter at the South end to remember what all the hub-bub of the Badlands is about.
...and thoughts to contemplate...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSakrTxFTsE&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL
I don't really understand the map and think I am headed north, but I am nothing more then headed in a circle. When the adventure is over I end where I began and am hours behind schedule. I pull out my atlas and plan the route. It is ill planned, but, I fear, the only option, given where I am in this state of economic insanity. I get stuck pretty quickly on yet another road being redone. It is in the hour of the gloaming so everything is hard to see. I follow the truck in front of me with high hopes and notice no one in anything other then a semi is traveling this route. I hate it when everyone is in on the joke but me.
I try to text Eileen to inform her of the delays, as she is my welcoming committee, but no signal for mile after mile. I am coughing on the dirt blowing on my KIA. I am wondering if my car will ever be clean again; but not in a "I care to much about it'' kind of way.
I finally arrive at Powers Lake and I have no signal to call Eileen to tell her...I drive up and down town with my cell phone outside the window searching like a city slicker for some bars. Nothing! I head out of town and get one bar and a call goes through. I hear Eileen's voice and the joy is ruined by a car pulling along side of me. A window rolls down and smoke fills the air. A voice asks if I can tell them how to get to Tioga and judging from the Bud Light cans in the console I am assuming they don't notice my Georgia plates.
I don't know how to get to Tioga, and I think you ding-a-lings are blocking my cell reception; call drops with Eileen.
I pull forward and try the call again and after a short conversation, Eileen appears behind me. She is warm and welcoming and giving her a hug on the side of the road to Battleview is the warmest quilt I have felt in a long time. She navigates us out to her mom, Glennis' house; where I have secured a room.
We take dirt road after dirt road and I am beyond at home. I want to jump in the front seat with Eileen and tell her how excited, nervous, heartbroken, alive, I am to be here in this place of my childhood. But I don't. I keep it cool and choke back the stuff that would just be awkward.
When I drive into her mom's yard I am 8 again and my brother Wade is 13 and my sister Tracey is 10. We are right were we belong. I visit with Eileen and her mom for a couple of hours and then I hit the hay. And my cup has run over. I am not even sure what to pray for.
I am greeted in Battleview with a perfect bed and no 11 am checkout. I sleep like I am in heaven, and maybe I am.
Recipes: There is so much to digest.
Roadtrips: Always take the back road; even if you get stuck behind a work truck it is still more interesting then the main road.
Renovations: Don't change a thing; everything seems to be working out right in its own time...
On day eight, I came back from Miles City with the goal of reaching Powers Lake, North Dakota for the night. Powers Lake is a town where I had gone to school when I was a 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 5th grader (remember 4th grade was spent in New England from day six, I think it was day six anyway).
Because of this Western North Dakota oil boom there is no way to get lodging if you are passing through. So I am excited to be headed to the Maruskie's home in Battleview, were I lived as a child: Battleview, not at the Maruskies, to spend a night or two. The Maruskie's are a family who took care of my family when we were fish out of water living in North Dakota 32 years ago. Collectively they are some of the best human stock I have known in all my travels and all these 32 years since. I have always had a memory for them, each member.
Eileen was my age and she was always the prettiest girl, not like us who feel like we need makeup and hair products. Kenny, who was my sister's age, was the one I had a crush on, my first I think. I will act cool if I get to see him. Scott was precocious. Ray was interesting and Daryl was a grown up. Glennis and Nealon, the parents, were good to us everyday; and you never forget that no matter what your age.
Circa 2011, the trip to Powers Lake/Battleview is a memory maker as well. I decide to go to the Teddy Roosevelt National Park and enter at the South end to remember what all the hub-bub of the Badlands is about.
There are several characters to meet along the way along the way...:
...and thoughts to contemplate...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSakrTxFTsE&feature=mfu_in_order&list=UL
I don't really understand the map and think I am headed north, but I am nothing more then headed in a circle. When the adventure is over I end where I began and am hours behind schedule. I pull out my atlas and plan the route. It is ill planned, but, I fear, the only option, given where I am in this state of economic insanity. I get stuck pretty quickly on yet another road being redone. It is in the hour of the gloaming so everything is hard to see. I follow the truck in front of me with high hopes and notice no one in anything other then a semi is traveling this route. I hate it when everyone is in on the joke but me.
I try to text Eileen to inform her of the delays, as she is my welcoming committee, but no signal for mile after mile. I am coughing on the dirt blowing on my KIA. I am wondering if my car will ever be clean again; but not in a "I care to much about it'' kind of way.
I finally arrive at Powers Lake and I have no signal to call Eileen to tell her...I drive up and down town with my cell phone outside the window searching like a city slicker for some bars. Nothing! I head out of town and get one bar and a call goes through. I hear Eileen's voice and the joy is ruined by a car pulling along side of me. A window rolls down and smoke fills the air. A voice asks if I can tell them how to get to Tioga and judging from the Bud Light cans in the console I am assuming they don't notice my Georgia plates.
I don't know how to get to Tioga, and I think you ding-a-lings are blocking my cell reception; call drops with Eileen.
I pull forward and try the call again and after a short conversation, Eileen appears behind me. She is warm and welcoming and giving her a hug on the side of the road to Battleview is the warmest quilt I have felt in a long time. She navigates us out to her mom, Glennis' house; where I have secured a room.
We take dirt road after dirt road and I am beyond at home. I want to jump in the front seat with Eileen and tell her how excited, nervous, heartbroken, alive, I am to be here in this place of my childhood. But I don't. I keep it cool and choke back the stuff that would just be awkward.
When I drive into her mom's yard I am 8 again and my brother Wade is 13 and my sister Tracey is 10. We are right were we belong. I visit with Eileen and her mom for a couple of hours and then I hit the hay. And my cup has run over. I am not even sure what to pray for.
I am greeted in Battleview with a perfect bed and no 11 am checkout. I sleep like I am in heaven, and maybe I am.
Recipes: There is so much to digest.
Roadtrips: Always take the back road; even if you get stuck behind a work truck it is still more interesting then the main road.
Renovations: Don't change a thing; everything seems to be working out right in its own time...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Day Seven: No Vacancy in the state of North Dakota
I wake up this morning to 23 degrees, ice on the windshield and no hotel reservation for a second day in a row. I get back on the computer and keeping googling my way West. Finally an opening in Miles City, MT. I book it even though I have no idea where it is. I am not going to let it get me down. I am going to see the World's Largest Buffalo and Lake Sakakawea, an Indian Village or two and a place I used to live. There is a lot to get in before I have to travel to my hotel.
We leave the this morning and cross the interstate to the Frontier Village in Jamestown that houses the World's Largest Buffalo.
They aren't kidding. Louie goes immediately for the right front hoof and pees and the closer I get the more intimidated it all becomes. It really does have a presence of 'I could trample you in a split second'.
Now we are off I94 to Bismark where we will go off roading to see...
...windmill farms...
And Lake Sakakawea...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aP2thtcrdcg
(Sorry for the images of my front seat.)
Then we happen upon the Knife River Indian Villages. I contemplate asking if this Earth Lodge has any vacancies:
Then, on to...
where I spent the fourth grade.
The church is still there as a church...
Then, I travel to HWY 12 and head to that hotel in Miles City. The sun is setting and the road is such that whenever I hit the top of a hill it feels like a roller coaster ride, where you have no idea what is about to happen next. Then darkness falls and I am alone on the road with my thoughts. The road suddenly becomes a dirt road and I panic. But then 20 miles or so it is is paved again. I try to find something on the radio and the choices are a religious talk radio program or a political one. I push the off button and sit in silence.
It is the first time on the journey I feel lonely.
We finally arrive at Miles City and I let Louie run in the dark while I check in. This hotel only lets pets in smoking rooms...what the hell. I didn't even realize smoking or non-smoking was an option anymore...I suck it up then when Louie and I hit the room we both choke. It is terrible and 1974.
I quickly get on the computer to try to find a place closer back toward my destination for tomorrow, I have to visit Powers Lake before I leave this part of the country. After two hours I have no luck; I even go on the North Dakota Tourism website that I have been communicating with for months about this trip (without ever hearing from them that hotels are booked through December) and tell them what I think about this nonsense. Every town has a Tourism Station and every rest area has a huge book about visiting ND, but there is no place for a tourist to stay in this state. I will say this for the State - it is the complete opposite from every where else in the country. There are Help Wanted and Hiring Now signs every where and there is no room at the inn; booked up with busy, working people.
I am in need of an oil change and and some air freshener and the KIA needs a bath.
Recipes: If a dish burns, you can still salvage the meal.
Roadtrips: A little bit of I94, HWY 83, SR 220, SR 22, HWY 12...long day in the upper Midwest...
Renovations: I think I need to take a day to reflect on everything I have taken in...maybe after tomorrow's old homestead visit.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWzmFEbOXxU
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Day Six: Down, Up, Then Down Again
Waking up in Fargo this morning things were a little off. For starters, the damn hotel blow dryer blew up right in front of me so I had bad hair all day. And, as if I haven't already given my cousin Barbara fits for not carrying cash on my road trip; heaven forbid she finds out I have no hotel booked for tonight.
I want to go to Devils Lake today and get back to HWY 2. It is a big enough town with several hotel options so I figure I will just wing it. We load up and head out. It is in the 30's, I am dressed for the 60's. The time is different and my phone says one thing and my car says another. I don't know if I should have breakfast or lunch. So I get a bottled water and eat a peach I had already packed.
As I am leaving Fargo, I see this:
So that is what I plan to be today.
I remember I came in late last night and missed seeing a welcome to North Dakota sign to I head off the freeway to try to find Minnesota again so I can find North Dakota again. I am alone on the road with lots of big trucks hauling things that look like over sized potatoes but I think it has something to do with coal. Though, I really have no idea. I start to think I am not supposed to be on these roads because I don't have any potatoes or coal.
When I am about an hour out of Devils Lake I call the place I set my heart on for my night's stay. "No, rooms tonight" is what I hear. So I pull over at a grassy side of the road and let Louie run for awhile while I fire up the laptop. I sit on the hood of my car and look up hotels in Devils Lake while my dog frolics on the side of HWY 2. I am pretty sure that is pretty cool.
I start calling hotel after motel until the list of 14 is complete and all booked. You have got to be kidding me. It is Devils Lake, ND in the middle of October for crying out loud.
I look on my map for the next town I have heard of, Rugby. I start to make more calls; booked. I stretch all the way to Minot; booked. I have a slight moment of panic. Pull the map out again and opt to find an interstate for a better chance at an un-booked hotel. I finally find a bed in Jamestown; then take out the map and re-figure the route in my head. I see a road that looks to travel right over Devils Lake so of course that is the one I want to take.
Once I make the turn the road sort of disappears and I am traveling in a construction zone unlike any I have ever been through.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rw4VvSCwgxI
There isn't even really a road any more and the there are trucks carrying dirt everywhere. But to be that close to the water is spectacular, even though it is cold we roll the windows down and listen to the lake talk to the wind.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyKqDyFmMI0
Before I started on this road I saw so many cars covered in dirt and wondered what was up. I now understand they must live on the other end of this road and have to travel it every day. The big trucks drive in the opposite direction blowing earth right on us. I am a tourist so I think it is cool; but I am sure it gets on the locals nerves.
I think this is the longest lake I have ever driven around until I remember the speed limit is 25 so I probably haven't gone far. Eventually the lake comes to an end and that off road adventure is over.
I turn onto HWY 281 in route to Jamestown and think about things that are important.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ry7DwT1tgo
Recipes: Sometimes you don't have to know all the ingredients. Sometimes you just mix things up and a good day comes out of it.
Roadtrip: Prairie Puddles, wheat fields and big trucks = Eastern ND
Renovations: Try everyday to
I want to go to Devils Lake today and get back to HWY 2. It is a big enough town with several hotel options so I figure I will just wing it. We load up and head out. It is in the 30's, I am dressed for the 60's. The time is different and my phone says one thing and my car says another. I don't know if I should have breakfast or lunch. So I get a bottled water and eat a peach I had already packed.
As I am leaving Fargo, I see this:
So that is what I plan to be today.
I remember I came in late last night and missed seeing a welcome to North Dakota sign to I head off the freeway to try to find Minnesota again so I can find North Dakota again. I am alone on the road with lots of big trucks hauling things that look like over sized potatoes but I think it has something to do with coal. Though, I really have no idea. I start to think I am not supposed to be on these roads because I don't have any potatoes or coal.
When I am about an hour out of Devils Lake I call the place I set my heart on for my night's stay. "No, rooms tonight" is what I hear. So I pull over at a grassy side of the road and let Louie run for awhile while I fire up the laptop. I sit on the hood of my car and look up hotels in Devils Lake while my dog frolics on the side of HWY 2. I am pretty sure that is pretty cool.
I start calling hotel after motel until the list of 14 is complete and all booked. You have got to be kidding me. It is Devils Lake, ND in the middle of October for crying out loud.
I look on my map for the next town I have heard of, Rugby. I start to make more calls; booked. I stretch all the way to Minot; booked. I have a slight moment of panic. Pull the map out again and opt to find an interstate for a better chance at an un-booked hotel. I finally find a bed in Jamestown; then take out the map and re-figure the route in my head. I see a road that looks to travel right over Devils Lake so of course that is the one I want to take.
Once I make the turn the road sort of disappears and I am traveling in a construction zone unlike any I have ever been through.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rw4VvSCwgxI
There isn't even really a road any more and the there are trucks carrying dirt everywhere. But to be that close to the water is spectacular, even though it is cold we roll the windows down and listen to the lake talk to the wind.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyKqDyFmMI0
Before I started on this road I saw so many cars covered in dirt and wondered what was up. I now understand they must live on the other end of this road and have to travel it every day. The big trucks drive in the opposite direction blowing earth right on us. I am a tourist so I think it is cool; but I am sure it gets on the locals nerves.
I think this is the longest lake I have ever driven around until I remember the speed limit is 25 so I probably haven't gone far. Eventually the lake comes to an end and that off road adventure is over.
I turn onto HWY 281 in route to Jamestown and think about things that are important.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ry7DwT1tgo
Recipes: Sometimes you don't have to know all the ingredients. Sometimes you just mix things up and a good day comes out of it.
Roadtrip: Prairie Puddles, wheat fields and big trucks = Eastern ND
Renovations: Try everyday to
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)