Just off the Interstate in Battle Mountain, NV is the adorable Press Coffee House. With a cute outdoor area and a comfy couch inside it was the yin to the yang of the 100+ degree high desert summer day.

It wasn’t though the perfect stop. Corey and I like our Yeti coffee mugs and often bring them into places like the Press Coffee House. Sometimes this gets us a discount. Occasionally a barista will refuse to fill them up (this is true on all Amtrak trains). This time though our request led to an Abbot and Costello like standoff.

I put in our order and then offered up our cups. The barista said that would be no problem, but asked for our cup sizes. I said I wasn’t sure but please just add into them the smallest available size. Her reply was that she could do this but…..she still needed to know the cup size as that is what they charge by. We spent a minute dancing around this point. I  asked her to imagine a world where gas stations charge by the capacity of a car fuel’s tank and not by the amount of gas taken. She said she understood my point but that her coffee place charges by the size of the cup. To pacify me she assured me that they would only pour the amount of coffee I wanted into the cup (so the smallest size). Also I would get a 10% discount for bringing in my own cup. But she was not going to complete the sale until she knew the size of our cups. After that there was nothing to do than admit defeat. Drinks were served in paper cups and then poured by our own hands into cool stickered up Yeti mugs. Turns out they hold about 12 ounces.

We still definitely recommend the Press Coffee House over the gas station across the street. Hopefully we will be welcomed back the next time we swing through town. Long live the road, independent coffee houses and crazy ass conversations like the one above.

Like Peter Parker, I was bitten by a spider. Unlike him though I developed no super spidey powers other than my elbow swelling up and becoming all warm around the bite mark area. Lucky for me my ace sidekick used her special Google powers to locate an Urgent Care just moments from the exit ramp in Idaho we were set to pass. Minutes later at an Urgent Care in Pocatello I completed an intake form which had a space for religion. The incredibly nice but stoic man at intake said it was in case someone had to be hospitalized. I asked, “you mean for last rites?” He solemnly nodded yes.

And with that thought I was shuttled to the next room where a nurse practitioner and her assistant took turns pointing at the nasty bite. They gave me a prescription for an antibiotic and an oral steroid which I was able to fill just another few minutes later at the Fred Myer Pharmacy which was embedded like a tick bite in the same parking lot hosting the pharmacy.

Before all that we packed up our tent then followed the Snake River out of Wyoming. Just out of Idaho Falls we saw an uptick in Trump and even DOGE flags. This in a state about to be devastated by the coming budget bill which will strip Medicaid away from approximately 49,000 Idaho residents. That means a lot fewer treated bug bites. And at a place heavily shaped by the federal channeling of the Snake River into the raw power that today powers most of Idaho Falls. It always depresses me when people vote against their self interests.

Jump naked in a mountain lake. Hitchhike back to our car after realizing the trail isn’t actually a loop. Walk around the campground each morning in a bathrobe and cowboy hat. Hear bald eagles screech at one another. Watch horses be driven from one pasture to another while munching on your overpriced but decent fish and chips. And best of all, spend a solid week with your best friend/lover/rock star wife hardly ever being more than a few feet from one another (and I don’t even mind now her insisting that we use the small tent).

It’s not all idyllic. Over the past week there have been not one, but two high speed chases within the park boundary. One involved two idiots from California drag racing. The other was an alleged attempted murder in Yellowstone followed by a stolen car which possibly reached speeds in excess of 100 mph while being chased by park police down into GTNP. Corey and I also witnessed a shootout in Jackson but I’m pretty sure they were just actors. I mean, who wears a microphone during a shootout?

We by the way have been passing out IPAs like boxes of cigarettes in a prison. Yesterday alone I passed out four beers. Three to the nice family who drove us from the Lupine Meadows parking area to the Bradley Taggart jump off point. Saved us a gruelling five mile walk at the end of a challenging trail. Lessons learned are that people are kind and also that All Trails is not infallible. A couple hours later a man offered me an almost completely filled Jet Boil canister (he was flying home the next day). And that my friend earned him an IPA.

We also woke up to a mostly flat tire. The kind folks working at Colter Bay gave us good advice. And then at Jackson Lodge Quentin, who does not drink beer or kombucha, professionally patched everything up. It was one of those things that could have broken in either direction. Luckily it went our way.

Camping life ain’t for everyone. First night rolling into Colter Bay was a master class on precipitation. Despite being a balmy 40 degrees we had tiny white flakes. And solid little ice dots. Also rain. Lots and lots of rain which fell seemingly oblivious to the above sky which itself alternated between a splotchy blue-gray and a more solid gray. Our weather app kept putting the chance of rain at a measly 20% with clear skies coming around the bend. So with that false hope Corey cooked up yummy sauteed portobello and pepper sandwiches served with a side of instant mashed potatoes (that was my contribution). And then we ate it under our tiny makeshift awning. Our cooler made a stingy kitchen table so she had to hold onto the frying pan while I prepped the buns. Then we shared a fork for the mashed potatoes eaten right out of a pot. Now who wouldn’t enjoy that?

Ah but sometimes the best part of camping are the friends you make. Our camping neighbors are the best. A big joyous family who seem to have adopted us. So far we have gotten one can of spicy tuna, two Keystone Lights, a mosquito repellent device and delicious Korean sweets. Each gift has been met with an equally random object (fire starter and a couple of IPAs) but honestly there is no way for us to keep up. They are loud too. Incredibly loud. Every morning they wake up around six and then shout to one another from seemingly impossible distances. They also shout out a good morning to me as I wander past their site to the bathroom about an hour earlier than I wish. And then a short time later they will walk over with a gift.

A feral five year old wandered into our camp last night around dinner time. Cute kid she kind of wandered about our awning until her parents called her back to the RV.

It has also been quite cold each of our nights here. Twenty eight degrees my phone said. Last night I crawled out of my sleeping bag around 2:30 to take a stroll (I had to pee). Beautiful sky. A million stars with the Milky Way a messy thumb print smudged against the sky. Made the cold, the rain, everything worth it.

This morning there was fresh dew in Waterloo, Iowa. It helped to remind us we were still just half a drive away from Chicago. Three hundred and fifty miles later though and the sky now seems too dry for morning dew. The food options have also drastically changed with our dinner menu tonight much more “meat forward” than Corey would prefer. In-between now and this morning though was a world of simple and grand adventures only possible when traveling the route less traveled.

And then more caffeine at Hardline Coffee Company which is housed in an early twentieth century building that just a few years ago was the site of an adult book store.

Corey wrote beautifully last night about repurposing. Within this retracing though there  also remains the possibility of new discovery. This is partly the reason why we keep repeating the same steps.

It’s day one of mine and Noel’s 27th summer trip. Gulp. Man, time is flying faster than the Iowa wind howling by outside. Waterloo Iowa wind to be exact which is where I am penning this entry from. As curious folks asked where our trip this summer was taking us this year, my simple reply was, “Oh, out west”. If they asked me to expound I would add, “Day 1 is Waterloo, Iowa”. To this detail the conversation would halt as said questioner wondered why start in such a seemingly inconspicuous place.

Well see, I’d begin, we’ve been west via route 20 before-and route 20 takes you through Rockford, west to Waterloo Iowa and…..to which I would lose the listener’s interest. Which was fine by me.

Over the last 26 summer trips we’ve crossed old paths over and over again-mostly on account of Noel’s memory for a place. I’d say it is his special food memory for a place. So this year when planning Noel asked of Waterloo, “Do you remember the cool hotel we stayed?” My reply, “Um, maybe?” Noel recounted something about a repurposed factory. Then Noel asked “recall the brewery we ate at in town that was housed in a repurposed hostess bread factory, with the cool doors?” Me. Again. “Um maybe. Oh yea”. You may think I’m not too keen an observer. But I am. In my own way. The three of us carry our own memories of all our trips. Possibly if we could overlay them on top of each other a colorful, rich tapestry would emerge. That would be cool. Last night, over scotch on ice, we shared memories of past trips, funny stories, different perspectives to which a new memory would be added.

This trip, is our second summer trip sans Henna. Last year she was in St. Paul when we left. It was a weird trip last year without her, and we recounted memory upon memory of past trips together over the course of that trip, making her feel like she was in the back seat, as usual. All of our overlaying of routes held memories of being there with her. It was a heavy summer missing my girl.

This summer, Henna again will be up in St. Paul and then off on her own summer adventure, leaving us to travel without her. But she was home today to send us off. So alas we left her behind to visit friends before she heads back north. My sweet girl from the North Country. Driving away without her was so hard, and the sadness hit me all at once. Tears flowed similarly to when we dropped her off at college. This year as we travel, she will again be in every campsite we visit, each hike we take and each town we visit. We’ve done it all together before and I will revisit all those memories again this summer to keep her close to me. I know it’s her time now- creating her own story, and have her own adventures. She’s my amazing kid. We brought her up to love travel and the rush a new place can bring, even if it’s a place you’ve been to before.

So here’s to repurposing, as something new can spring from something old. And it can even be something better.

Corey~

What better way to celebrate Corey’s birthday than with bikes, trains and family. Despite several cocktails the night before, we managed to make the 7 AM train into the city. We then biked the eerily quiet Loop and then dragged our bikes down a flight of stairs and into the Millennium Station. We got onto the South Shore Line train before its scheduled departure of 8:30 to…..wait over an hour while they sorted some sort of electrical issue. Having local news legend Andy Shaw on our car did make the wait a little better. And I am so grateful for him answering my many, many questions about the news business. But the long wait still sucked.

In Hegewish the train picked up Tim and Linnea (also local legends) before dropping us off in Michigan City. The four of us then traveled the mile or so to Bruce and Audra’s condo. Ray and Laura were waiting which meant that all three sisters plus three brother-in-laws were there to celebrate Corey’s birthday.

We rode on the Calumet Trail toward the Dunes before detouring into the swank coastal enclave of Beverly Shores. We saw several wild turkeys and also a few colorful birds that none of us could identify. And then we had a great lunch at Shoreline Brewery (thanks again Bruce!) before taking the trains home in reverse order from the morning trek. As good as the trail and lunch were, however, I know Corey enjoyed the company more. So to my South-Side Swedish family I say “tack!”

With just a small bit of a plan we took our bikes on the train to Crystal Lake. From there we made our way to the Fox River Trail which eventually led us to Geneva. Then to get home from Geneva we took a train into the city and then another back to Edison Park. In-between Crystal Lake and home we had a yummy breakfast burrito and coffee (Crystal Lake Junction where the friendly owner and son carry a heavy English accent) and a great lunch and beer at Alter Brewing. We also rode through a protest with thumbs up and cheers in Elgin (Resist! Our Democracy is worth saving) and met a few interesting folks along the way. Like the young man who bragged to us about scoring free guacamole by lying about his birthday at Chipotle. I told him I was the CEO of Chipotle and was not amused. He backed away, like seriously worried he was going to be in trouble then nervously laughed when I told him that I was not in fact the CEO of Chipotle. There was also an older volunteer at the Geneva train platform who repeatedly snapped at a delayed teenager who kept trying to steal his spotlight. We also saw Cub fans in Crystal Lake lined up to take the train into the city. Then on our last train of the day there were fans exhausted after a long day at the park. It was actually a theme; on trains headed into the city there was a tangible sense of excitement. And then a much more muted return trip with everyone looking hungover and tired.

After four nights camping in Death Valley and Valley of Fire State Park we spent some time on the Strip. Vegas, or at least the Vegas Strip, is just plain weird. Also loud. And everywhere all at once. Might not be our favorite place but we did enjoy taking in a couple of shows and catching some sun by the pool. I even won a little money playing Blackjack. Vegas Baby!

Slot canyons have always been our favorite kind of slot. Maybe that’s why we loved Valley of Fire State Park which is an enchanting world of red rock, petroglyphs, big horn sheep and stunning vistas. And despite its proximity to Las Vegas, it boasts a night sky only slightly less impressive than the one found in Death Valley. Just $15 for a day pass and another $10 for the campsite. That’s an even better deal than a Vegas buffet.