We spent two beautiful nights camping at the Covert/South Haven KOA.  It had been a while since our last visit.  Where there were once secluded rustic sites behind a small fishing pond there are now fancy shmancy cabins with bathrooms, AC, gas grills, and decks.  The horror!  Actually they seem kind of nice.  A bit pricey (about $130/night in high season; closer to $70 other times) but probably much cheaper than other South Haven options and a whole lot more fun than a hotel room.  But we chose, for the 32^nd and 33^rd time this year, to sleep in our tent.  You might be asking yourself why?  Well, besides saving money we were really looking forward to kicking back by a fire (a big no-no at any Holiday Inn).

So we spent the money we saved by camping on apples and used books.  For the former we ventured a bit south to the Tree-Mendus Fruit orchard which grows an outstanding 200+ variety of apples (as well as peaches, blackberries, and other fruits).  Many of the apples offered were either heritage or hybrid fruits.  Taking a cue from the surrounding vineyards, they provide apple tastings which are guided by a kind of fruit sommelier.  We fell in love with the Hawaii apple which is a cross between a Gravenstein and Golden Delicious.  Corey and I also were impressed by the Northern Spy but Henna less so (supposedly they make an excellent pie).  The Empire (a heritage apple) was also quite tasty.  After we made a mental note of what we wished to pick we caught a hay ride into the apple orchard for some serious picking along with a little fall leaf peeping.

The next day we visited South Haven before driving the three hours home.  South Haven is as cute as a place can be without being sickening sweet.  On Columbus Day 2015 it had a sleepy kind of feel that is probably never present in the summer.  Just before venturing deep into the lake via the pier (with waves lapping over our feet the whole way west), we stumbled upon Black River Books.

This is our checklist for a used book store.

A huge selection of used books as well as new books penned by area authors?  Check.

One big friendly dog?  Actually two labradoodles that like to be pet.

Coffee?  Yes and also homemade cardamom toast both of which were served on the honor system and next to comfy couches.

Interesting and likeable proprietors?  The husband and wife were as knowledgeable about books as they were nice.  And they gave us the recipe for their homemade cardamom toast.  What’s not to like?

Link to Tree-Mendus Fruit

Link to Black River Books

  
It seems like for every paved mile in Wyoming there are at least another ten that are gravel.  And some of the coolest (or in this case warmest) things involve kicking up a little dust.  So a few miles south of Hoback Junction on the way to Pinedale is a ten mile turn off to Granite Creek.  Take that turn.  Then drive, slowly, to the Granite Creek Waterfall (about nine miles).  Walk down to the creek (which is more like a river) and gauge whether you are fit enough to cross the moderately flowing water in order to reach the other side.  Henna and Corey had no difficulty doing so.  I was able to cross but only by using my hands and moving very, very carefully and looking a lot like I was playing Twister.  This crossing is not for everyone and we did see two ladies and a man slip several times on the rocks before giving up.  

What exactly lies on the other side of this creek/river?  A makeshift hot tub out of carefully placed rocks that is filled by the cool Granite Creek and near boiling hot sulfur smelling water cascading down from the cliff walls.  There is really nothing comparable to plopping your but in a natural hot tub while staring at a waterfall set in the Wyoming semi-wilderness.  A mile down the road is another hot spring that you pay to enter but we saw no reason to check it out.  Heaven was right there lapping at our feet.

  

Last night in Sidney, NE we stopped to look at a hotel. It was The Dude from the Big Lebowski working the front desk. He liked my shirt and when I told him I got it in Stockholm he said, “Nice, I always wanted to go to the Netherlands.”

At dinner, a chain restaurant because in Sidney, Nebraska there is not one other dinner option, we heard the kitchen tell our young waitress that they had no more soup. Corey and Henna were waiting on that soup (which was most of their dinner). Ten minutes passed and my dinner was ready before the waitress told us they had no soup. Meanwhile her boyfriend came by with their baby. The two sat next to our booth with dad ignoring baby who began to cry louder and louder as we waited for our new dinner. Waitress then worked the room while at the same time trying to soothe the baby which caused baby to cry louder. And it felt good heading home.

In Paris we had a waiter patiently review our order before making suggestions that greatly enhanced our dining experience. We tipped 10% and he reacted as if we had tipped a whole lot more. Here in the heartland we tipped 20% for inept service and a good story.

Across the street from the iconic Wrangler store is a locally owned coffee shop housed in a former movie theater. It is a giant step up from our usual interstate coffee choice (gas stations). Cheyenne itself is an almost cute rough and tumble kind of a place where you can wear a cowboy hat no problem. And they also serve bubble tea. 

   

Two park rangers drove a team of mules down the trail which pushed a mama bear and her two cubs down the same trail. This in turn caused several hikers to backtrack to a little pull out we had just reached. Courage though ran uphill with David and Mariah’s enthusiasm making the three of us more confident which in turn calmed a very nervous family standing next to us. The bears passed by less than ten yards from us and it was awesome.

The two nights we spent up in the north fork of Cascade Canyon where simply amazing. The weather was good, company great, and the views stupendous.  Besides the bears, we also spied moose, mule deer, marmot, pika and one, maybe two, silver fox. We hung out at Lake Solitude and when the day hikers left we stayed. It was also cool hangung out with our west coast family (and playing cards by flashlight in our little tent almost 10,000 feet high was something we will not soon forget). The discomforts, like having to bury our poop, eating mostly dehydrated foods and, worst of all, instant coffee were a small price for having a piece of wilderness all to ourselves. We can’t wait to camp with David and Mariah again.

We are on a bit of a vacation hanging out with David and Mariah in the Tetons. A short walk from us is the Signal Mountain Lodge which makes for a handy refuge from serious thunder storms which we had to make use of a few days back. Forecast for next five days alternates clouds and sun with no rain in the picture. Meteorology here though is pretty suspect.

A few days ago my wallet dropped out of my shorts in the parking lot near the lodge. I did not know it was missing until hours has past. It was waiting for me at the gift shop. Yesterday I lent twenty bucks to a stranger after realizing she had locked her key in the car. I borrow sugar from a man and then later Corey lends soap to his wife. People keep borrowing Dave’s hatchet and yesterday they returned it with a Korean cinnamon punch drink and a margarita in the can. And so on and so on. This good will is by no means a safeguard from all the world’s misfortune. But it sure makes life more fun.

 We met David’s mom in her home town of Lady Smith then David and Mariah a few years later. Two years ago we camped together in Washington State and now we are together in Wyoming. Another circle complete.   

 

Two hundred plus miles into Nebraska off Interstate 80 in Kearny, Nebraska is a road side attraction like no other. For starters, instead of being at the side of the road it actually hovers above the highway. Which is fitting since the focus here is on travel from the Gold Rush days right up to the present interstate. This travel focused story is told mostly through headphones and incorporates everything from drive in movie theaters to convincing campgrounds. The few windows looking out to the highway reinforce what a cool thing it really is to be able to drive oneself across this country. It is something every one should do at least once.

A short walk from the parking lot is a bridge leading to an impressive bike trail as well as a recreated earth lodge. Pretty cool and also free. Tickets to the museum are $12 for adults and less for kids.

We came home and before we could shake off all the jet lag we enjoyed one amazing, absolutely perfect wedding between two former house sitters. Michelle and Jerry were a thing before they agreed to help us out, but we like to think that Chateau Hennacornoeliday maybe nudged them closer together. Besides the wedding we also hung out with friends, celebrated a nephew/cousin graduating high school, and had tea with an adorable two year old for her birthday. It was a good week.

We also repacked. Europe was grand but sometimes we were a bit homesick. Not just for friends and family, but also for campfires, picnic tables, free bathrooms, and a little bit of space. We craved smores, stars, and our camping chairs. Add three neighbors and two cousins heading to one of our favorite spots in the world (Grand Tetons National Park) and you can see why we sit now in Iowa City ready to head further west tomorrow.

A few days before taking the train from Chicago to New York City I panicked a bit and looked into booking a room.  The room would have cost an extra $500.  Ouch.  I also tried using my meager media connections.  A definite no-go.

So we stuck with the original plan and left our Edison Park home with three backpacks (mine ridiculously huge and weighing in at close to thirty pounds), a wheeled suitcase, and a small cooler also on wheels.  We also each carried pillows, had jackets tired around our waste, and gripped an odd assortments of stuff we grabbed at the last moment as we headed out the door. What I imagined was us walking to the Metra train station in a carefree manner, waving to the neighbors as we marched toward Iceland via the Edison Park Metra Stop, Union Station, Penn Station, and then LaGuardia.

Instead we lumbered along at a snail pace dropping items along the way which resulted in Keystone Cop antics (I bend over to pick something up and in the process swing into Corey who then steps on Henna’s foot and yells at me).  Waiting for that first train I had my first bout of backpack envy as the woman standing next to us had a small, perfectly contained one.  She was headed to Antarctica (probably not, but she was the first of many people whom we met with minimal backpacks, clean clothes, and a smile headed out for a delightful jaunt somewhere far away).

For the twenty minute Metra ride we mostly had the car ourselves.  We also met a nice Metra employee with a deep southern accent.  It was like his second or third day on the job (and by his polite manners probably his first hour in Chicago).  He was a great help to us later in getting off the train which bruised my ego but was also greatly appreciated.  Outside the Ogilvie train station we looked lost and vulnerable and had only a vague sense of where to go.  A panhandler approached us, told, without us asking, which door we needed to reach (a good three large city blocks away) and then asked me for a dollar.  With my backpack snug, my hands filled, and worried about cars whizzing by I could not reach into my pocket to get that dollar.

At the end of Union Station there is a door with a small sign for Amtrak.  One advantage of taking the train is that each passenger is allowed two carry-on bags up to fifty pounds each.  You also are allowed to check, free of charge, another two bags (again, up to fifty pounds), as well as two additional bags at $20 a pop.  So the three of us could have checked close to a ton of luggage for only $120.  Waiting to check our backpacks (which we actually did not have to do) we saw families seemingly moving the entire contents of their apartments across country with humorless bureaucrats tagging it to go (I say humorless because they never smiled or really acknowledged anyone they processed and for us they reprimanded us for not knotting our straps then groaned when hoisting our backpacks to the conveyor belt).

The waiting room is filthy and disorganized.  A few vending machines, not a lot of information given, and then confused shouted directions asking people to enter another room.  Train travel is a popular option for the Amish and sitting with us where several generations with a few teenage girls, infants on their laps, staring intently at us.  Everyone had really cool worn down luggage from an era far past ours.  Dressed in heavy clothes a few had obviously not bathed in some time and we shifted away from them.  Later we avoided sitting with them on the train and sometimes had to hold our breath when walking past them in their train car.

On the train you have large seats with comfortable leg room and outlets.  No wifi on our train but most do offer free wireless.  The train left on time and a few minute later the snack room was open.  This room, one of a few set aside for dining, was one of my first disappointments in the trip.  What I imagined:  Humphrey Bogart serving drinks at a bar, the patrons with felt hats, a lot of miles under the belts, and a few stories told with gin and tonics.  What it was:  a no-frills kiosk with a microwave for heating up hamburgers or popcorn tended by a tired woman who became a lot friendlier after we tipped her.  There were only a few tables we could sit at and some were filled with Amtrak personal maybe on break (or maybe they were working, who knows).  We tiptoed back to our seats and had our drinks.  Later I walked back to fetch a second round.

Outside the scenery was industrial and ugly.  I had both seats to myself and slept curled up in a ball.  I woke frequently and noted things like two men drinking beer both standing behind pickup trucks in a parking lot.  In the early morning light I woke up for good outside Cleveland.  Corey and Henna slept a little better with their heads touching each other.  From Cleveland to New York City the scenery improved to quit woods and sleepy towns with the more spectacular mountain scenery a good ways north and unseen.

In the morning we made friends at the snack room.  There were a group of step-cousins traveling west to east then back again with stops at the Grand Canyon and other places.  Most of their trip was consumed by the train and by the time we met them they were like hoboes.  They had hoped to spend a few hours in Chicago but an earlier breakdown meant a change in plans and they never left Union Station.  We also met a worldly gentleman from many places but more recently Vermont (Grayson) who entertained us with bad jokes and better stories including some involving famous writers.  Everyone on board was killing time and together the train was a fun pursuit (favorite highlight was us playing poker with wadded up napkin crumbs for money; Henna took us for all the napkins we had).  Two Amish teenage boys hung out in the snack room as well and patiently answered questions about their lifestyle while surfing the net on borrowed smart phones (they mostly looked up pictures).  Other interesting people met or observed at a distance included an older African American with a cowboy hat and his arm in a sling.  Talking to the person next to him (a middle age man with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Shirt not worn ironically) he described how the horse he was caring for became jealous when he reached down to pet a dog which resulted in an injured arm.  Later I heard him on his phone reassuring someone that his arm was fine and that he could still do the job.

The food in the more affordable snack car is as good as it is packaged.  Per Corey and Henna the microwave chicken and veggie sandwiches were disgusting.  But the microwaved pizza tasted as good as any other microwave pizza.  The coffee was brewed well, the bagged pretzels were fine and cold pop is cold pop.  In the dining room (whose food is included in the cost of a sleeper car) the grub looked to be of a slightly higher quality.

Our train broke down somewhere in upstate New York.  Amtrak trains do that a lot.  Or they have to pull over for freight trains (Amtrak leases the rails and must give way to other commerce).  Or maybe there is an issue on the line.  Or maybe they just want to rest the train for a bit.  Besides breaking down the trains look their multi-decade age.  For example, each car has a different temperature with some ice cold and others a sauna.  One person I met complained that in his sleeper car the air conked out leaving him miserable. For our breakdown very little information was given and it lasted for more than an hour.

Miraculously our train was only about ninety minutes delayed.  All our checked luggage was returned to us (in a kind of ceremony with the workers laying out our bags behind a curtain then revealing it all at once as if they were for sale).  Through our deft use of Amtrak points (most of which were gained by opening a charge card) the trip cost us less than fifty bucks not including what we purchased on board.  Tickets purchased well in advance would have been about $100 a piece and also fully refundable up to a few days before departure.  If you have the time and do not mind a bit of discomfort then traveling Amtrak is a good option over flying.  For all our grumbling we are already planning future Amtrak trips out west.  We just do not expect to be on time.

For the second time in six weeks we saw a flurry of American flags (the other time was in Höganäs where family did all they could to make us welcome). Many people we have met have a Chicago connection too. Like Eileen the Pub owner who told us that Chicago has been good to her community (many have gone there for work). At another pub we heard the saddest song about a family leaving famine for Chicago.  In the pubs, on walking trails,  and everywhere else we see people who remind us so much of friends, neighbors, coworkers, etc. They laugh with us, wish us a sincere hello when we meet them and help us when we get lost (an hourly occurence). The driving though is terrible.

Country roads in Ireland mean an altogether different thing than they do back home. No wide meandering back road where you might go a bit before seeing another soul. It is exactly as our friend Chiereth said (whom we met so long ago in Stockholm ). You mostly stay in the middle and then shoot left when another body comes. On a summer day that other body comes around a lot and is too often a large trailer to wide for the road let alone the not quite two lanes (one up one down) allowed. Throw in a lot of walkers (there faces with a lot of regret), Americans getting the hang of left side driving, and your mirrors do not stand a chance.

But it is all worth it. I say that because we are safely at the airport waiting on our flight. But even here we look both ways nervous to cross the waiting area.