Nature vs. Man

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Leaving always feels so good.  I mean no disrespect towards our last two days. They were wonderful and restful, and as a result we are starting our trip anew, with clean dishes, clothes and bodies.  But there is a glorious feeling of heading out, leaving town, hitting the road, ready for what await us around the bend.  It’s utterly exhilarating. Right now we are high in the mountains outside of Breckenridge, at almost 11,000 ft. high where the rivers divide and head to their respected oceans.   While in our bubble in Breckenridge, I lost touch with what I love most about being on the road, which is being one with myself and the world.  While Breckenridge is a lovely resort town, it lacks the little and big things that make a town a town.  About 80% of their residents own two homes, and as Noel so eloquently stated “It’s run by hippies for yuppies”.  I don’t think there is a local school, and a book store was not to be found, although we were able to find plenty high scale out-door stores that could outfit your outdoor experience in style.  Ultimately we did not meet one person in two days that we could post about, which doesn’t mean they were not there….it’s just that staying indoors  tends to breed isolation.  I was back into T.V. world (watching way too many cooking shows), checking my emails and losing touch with the outside.  As we gazed upon Breckenridge’s footprint on the land, we talked about how thankful we are for the earlier conservationist who knew it was important to leave some land unspoiled by humans.  During our quick hiatus I became dehydrated and needed an afternoon to heel.  I forgot to drink water. I was subdued in our four walls and stopped paying attention.  So I am excited to head out, connect back with my body and the earth, to give myself to the power of our surroundings because I’m living within the elements 24/7.  I welcome that feeling.

 

Day 10: Breckenridge, CO

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Our first (and only) full day at Breckenridge and began with a hike that started just a few yards from where we are staying; the Burro Trail.  There are other, more dramatic hikes in the area, but we were hoping for an easy one that would allow for maximum pool time later.  About a quarter-mile in Henna’s foot began to hurt (probably bruised, we bought her new shoes and her foot now feel s fine).  Corey saw how excited I was to be on a shaded, soft ground trail that followed a creek uphill and volunteered to take Henna back alone.  I took her up on it and followed the trail past the meandering creek, up switchbacks, and high enough to get some great views.  A mile or two away from the trailhead I had the trail to myself and felt a little nervous.  I so did not want to get lost.  I did have a cell phone signal (and periodically texted lies to Corey about how ugly the trail was) and civilization was never far, but man I would never hear the end of it if I got lost again.  I did not get lost.  I did feel a little guilty for not being able to share the awesome trail with Henna and Corey.  Here are some photos from the hike.

After the hike we watched various cooking shows on the food network including a bit on Diners, Drive Ins, and Dives featuring Chicago’s Tres Kronor which we had eaten at after a St. Lucia festival.  Henna and I also rock hopped across the stream which is part of the city park (how cool is that) and then Corey felt dehydrated and is now resting.

Tomorrow we return to the road.  Some second guessing here on our SW heavy route; we are yearning for a little respite from the heat.   Thank you again Mom and Dad for giving us they two well needed days of rest here at Breckenridge.  Any time you wanted to borrow our tent feel free to do so.

Everybody’s High in Breckenridge

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And it’s not just the altitude.  Maybe it was the “Breckenridge Cannabis Association” located on Main Street or the High Times prominently featured at the gas station, but this town feels high.  We go to a crepe stand and watch one worker (the only worker there) get sucked up in conversations while the line stands stills for five minutes.  At the ice cream store Corey starts talking to the hip 20 somethings working while an increasingly annoyed line builds behind her.  And if they are not baked they are interesting to look at.  Take the Safeway in Frisco (just a few miles away); a young guy with dreads and a thick Jamaican accent reprimands me for returning something to the wrong aisle, the cashier from Hawaii tells us the lychee we were going to buy looks bad, a teenager looking dirtier than us (and we were mighty dirty to look at) has a backpack and bed roll, and an older couple pass by dressed to the hilt in cycling garb. A few days ago I felt self-conscience about not fitting in with western Nebraska due to my straw cowboy hat.  Now it’s tats and wool caps that I need.  Always something. Here are some more of the interesting people we have met so far (in Colorado and elsewhere).  I also added two random photos.

Robert:  a psychologist who has been practicing in Honduras over the past seven years.  He previously worked outside of D.C.  Camping with his stepson; partner was unable to get a visa.

Paul: recently retired geologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.  He just completed a map of Mesa Verde highlighting geological features.  He has also mapped out Glacier National Park and Dinosaur Monument.  Jobs usually entailed him and one field assistant alone in the backcountry for a few months while he matches air force photos with reality.

The nice teenage girl at Fort Robinson.  First day on job meant she needed a lot of help checking me in.  Stated that her father was a trucker and often took the family along for the ride.  For that reason she knew every road in Nebraska.  She gave more valuable travel tips to us than any other person on the trip so far.

John of Summer Stock (also at Fort Robinson).  He jumped off the pages of Glee, stuck in Nebraska.  His incredible enthusiasm and willingness to talk about anything to anybody won us over immediately.  Cannot wait to meet up with him someday in Chicago (where he will undoubtedly find himself someday trying to break into the theatre scene).

Older and recently widowed man watching Godspell.  Traveling the country solo in a camper he wanted to see as much as he can before he was no longer able to do so.  Did his best to talk us into to taking the Sawtooth Highway (we will see).

Twelve year old boy traveling with grandparents.  Grandparents formerly lived in St. Charles, Il. but retired in their native Nebraska.  Each grandchild is given one special trip with grandparents.  He chose Rocky Mountain National Park.

More grandchildren.  Brother and sister who briefly played with Henna and her incredibly elaborate acorn world.  By the way, there were some workers here in the park who came close to knocking over this village.  Henna wanted me to stop them from doing work but I could not see how.

Peter who drove his family from PA to RMNP in two days.  Peter has done a lot of interesting things in cool places including dog mushing in K-County.  It was fun comparing notes.

 

Day 8: Moraine Park Campground, RMNP to Stillwater Campground (just a few miles west of RMNP)

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Along the Trail Ridge Highway

Yesterday was all about altitude and heat. We left Moraine Park, but not before I saw a giant hawk devour his morning breakfast (an unlucky chipmunk) on the way to the bathroom.  Every morning on this trip I have woken with the sun and sometimes I have seen the darndest things.  It was hot by the time we left but very cold and windy along the Trail Ridge Road (at +12,000′ high it is the highest public road in America).  Besides glaciers and peaks, we also saw are first views of the wildfires.  Terrifying.  And the bits of over heard conversations were not at all comforting (“Jumped a highway, hell the fire jumped a river.”)  Not much we can do to help other than obey all the fire restrictions and get out of the way of those who can help.

We dawdled then drove down back to the scorching sun and camped at a pretty lake we think was Arapaho Lake.  The Colorado River comes into this valley wild and is tamed by a dam into a giant lake (with a trickle allowed to continue and eventually pour through the Grand Canyon).  There were few trees (Pine Beatle Infestation), a high sun, temps in the high 80s, and a very cold lake.  So we baked at the beach then explored Gramby where we dined on yummy pizza slices.  The laid back owner told us of a children’s fishing pond at the park and away we went.  Henna caught two little fish.  I caught an even smaller fish.  Returned to the campsite and listened to a great cover band playing outside at a nearby bar.  By 11 a less talented but louder band began to play.  They played until past 2 with me drifting off to sleep only to be jerked awake by a sudden guitar riff or someone yelling into the microphone.  By that time the sun was long gone so I shivered mightily listening to a lousy band play on and on and on.  But I did not feel homesick (and Corey and Henna never stirred from their sleep).  Rather it felt like an adventure and that morning, after waking with the sun at 5:30, I returned to the tent to snooze past 7.

It is very nice to be writing this post in my parent’s timeshare at Breckenridge.  Corey is frying up some sausages to add to a pasta dish Henna and her thought up.  8 days’ worth of laundry is making its way through the laundry machines and I feel cleaner than I have ever felt before.

Day 5: Fort Robinson State Park, NE to Cheyenne, WY

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Yesterday was a bittersweet day for us.  We woke relieved that the wild wind had stopped.  Henna caught up on sleep while Corey and I drank coffee and grilled sausages over a small fire.  There was no hurry and after Henna woke we ate some more and walked back into the main square of Fort Robinson.  For just $5 the three of us took a short carriage ride (in the type of carriage that Cinderella took to the ball).  Corey and Henna liked it; I loved it.   Henna also took a pony ride (they said I was too big) and we left the state park feeling good.  Route 20 continued west and it was a pleasant happy ride.  Turning south on 29 I felt a genuine sadness over the part of our trip ending.  We had taken 20 from the vaguely country strip malls of Rockford into the wild ranch land of western Nebraska.  Before this trip I always thought of Nebraska as dull and the people rough.  Not so.  Without exception every person met in Nebraska was kind; people wave when they drive by and conversations were easy to come by.  The land too is majestic in its largeness, a type of canvas fitting for the cows and windmills that populate it.  And judging by the many tourists with Colorado plates, I am not alone in this opinion.

After leaving Fort Robinson it was time for more bones.  Agate Fossil Bed National Monument is set against that “broken cattle country” scenery.  The exhibits were nowhere as cool as they were in Ashfalls, but the hiking opportunities made up for it.  We took a short trail that led to the highest point of the monument and passed several spiral beaver den fossils called devil corkscrews.  The road linking 20 with 71 was the 60 empties miles of the trip. At Scottsbluff, however, the roads turned back to divided highways and soon we were humming along at 80 on the interstate with the same number.  Off to Cheyenne, WY for the night and we tented at the KOA.  I felt a bit like a hobo as Corey and I drank beers a few yards from the interstate (with that noise sometimes drowned out by the freighter trains that passed nearby).  In the morning the hobo experience was completed as I had to dig through a garbage can in search of the CD I had accidentally thrown out (I found the CD- Hank Williams).  That night in Cheyenne we had our first dinner out and got a taste of Cheyenne; more genteel than Gillette but nowhere near as warm as Missoula.  There where coffee shops and book stores, but also muttering homeless and dark streets at night.

But now I am in Rocky Mountain National Park.  It would be heaven if it had a swimming lake.  So very, very dry here; as the fires rage  nearby here there is a complete fire ban meaning there will be a smore break.  We plan on camping two nights here then one night on the other side of trail ridge road.  Hopefully we will be able to share pictures with you soon.

Days 6 and 7: Moraine Park Campground, RMNP

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Greetings from Rocky Mountain National Park.  You can get here in two long driving days (Corey and I once did that).  A smarter way to go would be to take three moderately long driving days.  It took the three of us nearly a week to get here.  All the adventures on Route 20 and the sharp journey downward to Cheyenne made our entry into the mountains just that much more exciting.  I thought that maybe the slow ascent would help with the altitude adjustment, but I was pretty light headed the first day here (Corey and Henna did not seem affected by the 8,000 + feet of our campground).  We spent the first day exploring the campground and the adjacent valley.  Do you want to see herds of elk, a lot of pretty birds, and mountain flowers set against a rugged mountain landscape?  Come here.  Do you want to escape road work and roast marshmallows?  Stay home.  The wildfires near Fort Collins and the extremely dry conditions have forced the park rangers to put a total ban on all fires (campfires, smoking outside your car, and charcoal included).  And there also is a massive road work project going on resulting in the Bear Lake Road (probably the second most popular destination here after the Trail Ridge Road) with a road closure from 9AM to 4PM (free shuttle park busses are allowed on the road during that time).  A campground on this road is closed for the summer making our campground (usually a first come first served) more crowded than typical.  None of this bothered us.  We came in on Thursday and grabbed a beautiful site with a trail leading up a short ridge behind our tent.  From that ridge we can see the mountain valley.  The fire ban mean going to bed earlier but Henna snuck a smore on on our propane stove.  And the road closures meant a less crowded Bear Lake when we drove there after 4.  The only drawback to our campsite was that our tent and picnic table were a good and steep distance from our car.  This was solved with team work as the three of us formed a conveyor line to get all the necessary materials to the top.  We also ate all our dinners out at various picnic tables throughout the park.

Highlights of the time spent here were our first good hike (to Cub Lake), hanging out at a national park campground where even on a crowded weekend you have spacious sites and quiet at night, and watching Henna build a very detailed acorn village complete with characters such as the king, Gracie, and a fat and lazy dad (not sure how I feel about that one).  Today we break camp to travel the highest public road in North America- Trail Ridge Road which tops out at over 12,000 feet.  Our plan is to camp tonight on the other side of that road and then enjoy two blissful days in Breckenridge.  Talk to you soon.

That night….

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Fort Robinson, Nebraska has been a mighty important staging point for the U.S. wars against the American Indian, a jail for some of those same Indians, a training ground for soldiers for the Spanish-American war, and a P.O.W. camp for German soldiers during WWII.  Now it is Nebraska’s largest state park and does a good job of showing off western Nebraska’s broken cattle country (that is how my National Geographic Book on state parks describes the landscapes, as well as presenting what life was like for the soldiers stationed here (I do wish they did a better job of discussing the treatment of the imprisoned American Indians as late as 1912 this fort was still sending out soldiers to put down “agitated” U.S. citizens i.e. American Indians).  We camped a few yards from route 20 which over here was little more than a country road.   We could have lodged in a variety of barracks including former officer quarters (and by midnight I wish we had).  The state park also has a small archaeological museum that includes a complete Columbian Mammoth skeleton that was uncovered in a “death embrace” with another mammoth.  And Summer Stock is here too.  We saw Godspell (which was a nice counter point to all the evolution facts we kept stumbling upon- I will still go with evolution but I have to say Godspell had better music).

At 7 PM the three of us kicked back on Adirondack chairs and watched the blue sky.  It was in the mid 70s and beautiful.  By 8 (the time Godspell started) the sky was looking sinister and the temperature had dropped.  By intermission there had been some rain and there was not a visible star in the sky.  When the play ended the wind was gusting pretty strong, lightning was to the north, and the tent was not looking so good.  We drove into our campsite and stayed in the car to watch nature’s fireworks.  Wind was picking up and Henna kept nagging us to go into the tent.  All night the wind howled and a couple of times I sat up in mild (maybe moderate terror).  Henna slept soundly (and is still sleeping as I type this up).  Corey slept pretty well.  I nodded off around sunrise with the storm over and a little water at the creases of our tent.  Right now I am sipping coffee, writing (which I love), and sitting next to Corey (whom I love as well).  There are  sausages on the grill and the cool breeze feels good.  We leave Route 20 today to head south into Colorado.  Will update you all soon.

Note:  I am posting this now from the KOA in Cheyenne, WY.  Headed to RMNP today; we are all excited.  Having a lot of trouble posting photos.  Down the road we will post lots of photos.  Hope all is well with you.

Day 4: Valentine, NE to Fort Robinson, NE

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Hello, Corey here. Today was a most amazing road day, the exact reason we pack up our essential belongings each summer and hit the road.  We were up pretty early this morning, and heading out of Valentine, NE without coffee. So with a quick stop at a local store for provisions, and a quick hello to our campground owner (yep, in small towns it is very difficult to escape anyone) we continued our sojourn west. Below in bullet form…I love bullet points, gathers up some of what our day looked like.

  • Noel drove today due to a minor hip injury I acquired. Henna and I the read in the car caught up in our own two literary worlds as the southern badlands landscape passes by or window (hers fairies and mine embarrassingly 50 Shades of Gray).
  • We can definitely feel the cowboy vibe in these parts as everyone male is donning his cowboy Stetson hat and the old men are driving big Ford pickup excruciatingly slow. So it was fitting when we spied on our atlas that up ahead in a town called Gordon there was the Tri-State Old Time Cowboys Memorial Museum.  So after some searching, as gems like these are not always fitted with bright neon signs, we stumbled upon the city park for Gordon and the museum,  The only problem with our glorious stop is that the museum didn’t open until 1:00 and it was at that time only 10:00.  Ugh.  The best laid plans of improvising!  But wait, a note on the door providing three nice folks to call at a moment’s notice if you want an access to this small museum?  Sweet.  We called and 20 minutes later a nice old cowboy named Bud came to our rescue.  He was obliged to let us in to something he keeps so dear to his heart, being a cowboy.  He showed us graciously and proudly around these old relics of days gone by.  Saddles, rope, pictures of old cowboy’s.  We learned about him, his wife who lived in Chicago for 4 years, and the whereabouts of his five children (all living in various cities around the country).  He is quick to state that they all remember fondly growing up in this small Nebraska town.  My heart strings were tugged as I listened to this blue eyed old cowboy shared with strangers his personal information.  He let us in and I’m presuming that most folks in town (especially the young ones) have heard these old cowboy stories so many times, and are not impressed anymore.  He informed us that the countless windmill we’ve been seeing on the ranchlands are not turbines but instead wells pulling up water from sometimes as deeps as 200 feet below ground to keep the cattle hydrated.  He shared a sweet story about his Dad long ago picking up a solder on the highway, and how incredulous he was that the solider in need of water had no idea the water was fit to drink.
  • Our luck. Bud questioned our further travels and gave us a great tip of what we could do next, which are always the best tips the road can bring.  Godspell was playing at the Post Playhouse Theatre in the state park.  Thank you Bud!
  • Two hours down the road we entered the state park, bought our tickets for the 8 o’clock show, by a very friendly theatre major from Nebraska, and went for a swim.  The above mentioned theatre major was named John, a native of Nebraska and an ardent theatre buff.  He vows his love for this summer stock as it’s the closest folks in these parts can get to real theatre.  We wondered what it was like for him growing up in cowboy country when he appeared to be lifted from the set of Glee.  Thank goodness for him that this existed for him.  Make me glad we come from a big city in which cultural experiences are a short train trip away…might be why Bud’s kids all moved away.

Fare thee well for now.

 

Day 3: Sioux City,SD to Valentine,NE

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Yesterday was the day we started mid-west and ended up west.  We started our trip at the most eastern end of the Central Time Zone.  Right now as I type these words in our tent, we are at the most western end.  Big difference in sun-set times; last night about 10.  Given that we are almost exactly 800 miles west of Chicago (and only a tad north) I know the difference in times can be attributed solely to lateral travel.

The route to Valentine was what I suspected it would be.  Two lane (one each direction) and alternating between flat and hilly ranch las well as some corn fields.  Besides the hillier nature the land had a decidedly more cowboy feel to it than it did in Iowa.  Maybe it was the squared off nature of those hills or the lack of humidity.  Trees were also smaller and less common and at times it all felt like a high desert.  By the time we got to Valentine we felt exhausted by the day and searched a while before finding a former KOA campground run by the laid back and shirtless Mike.  I understood pretty quickly why Mike left the KOA system; he was friendly enough, but swore more than my auto mechanic Bruce (and that man knows a few things about colorful language).  The campground was on the banks of the beautiful Niobrara river which, by us, was shallow and sandy.  Henna and I had a lot of fun swimming there.

On the way to Valentine we saw two wonders:  the Klown Dolls Museum and Ashfalls State Historical Site.  For the first I have to admit that after a few hours driving we were not too picky about our roadside attractions (although I kept thinking of the movie Dolls where killer dolls come to life; plus clowns can be a little creepy).  But inside the museum (located in Plainview, NE) are thousands of donated clown dolls.  It started almost 60 years ago with a volunteer klown band (they wanted to be different so they spelled clown with a k) and grew to the marvel we saw yesterday.

Ashfalls has a bit longer history.  About 1.2 million years ago Yellowstone exploded (it is a giant caldera that erupts every million years or so) and sent massive volumes of ash pretty far west.  In eastern Nebraska there was a watering hole that filled with this ash and slowly (over about a month) choked prehistoric rhinos, camels, and three-toed horses to death.  The ash hardened and preserved the remains better than a fossil (fossils tend to be flattened, these bones were more like in a plaster).  At Ashfalls a big barn was put over the excavation and you can watch a dozen interns work the earth with very delicate and small tools (the type you use to mold clay).  Very, very cool.  Making it even more cool was that one of the original archaeologists who discovered this place (“a bunch of bones sticking out of a farm field”) was there.  A very modest and open fellow whose love for the place he helped found was contagious.

So that is all for now.  The ladies still sleep, this tent is getting warm, and I fear the bugs outside.  Talk to you all soon.

Day 2: George Wyth State Park to Sioux City, SD

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Yesterday was the first day of the trip waking up somewhere other than my own bed.  It felt good.  It was a cool morning and it felt good making coffee and reading while the ladies slept.  “While the ladies slept” can probably be inserted in each post I ever write concerning the morning.  Right now I am typing away on the shaded porch of a KOA cabin while, you guessed it, the ladies sleep.  The coffee is just about to percolate.

Woke up and continued on HWY 20.  It’s actually an interstate between Dubuque and Fort Dodge and while it continued as a divided four lane road we passed the usual suspects:  Holiday Inns, Olive Gardens, etc.  Sometime west of Fort Dodge the route began and the towns were typed in a smaller font.  In between the two rivers (Mississippi and Missouri) Iowa deserves its flat reputation.  Very quiet too.  The long since closed and decaying rural store is a very sad but commonplace elsewhere; in Iowa it was just church day.  Even some grocery stores we closed and we ended up tailgating our lunch in a McDonald’s parking lot.  For dessert we bout ice cream cones and coffees then used their wi-fi to post a blog entry.

Entered Sioux City around 3 and searched for a state park.  A couple of years ago I bought a National Geographic Book focused on the best state parks in the country.  Stone Park made the list and we wanted to check it out.  By this time it was in the high 80s and humid making a swimming pool also appealing.  So we decided to hike in the park then swim and camp at the KOA.  Most plans do not work the way they are drawn up and this was no exception.  We got lost and stumbled into the  KOA first (but not before driving a bit through Sioux Falls; run down in parts but has a nifty newer area with a cool but closed for Sunday art museum).  They gave us direction and we spent a couple of hours at the adjacent nature center and then state park.  Quick geo lesson:  Loess refers to the rock sand created by the glaciers.  This loess (pronounced luss) eventually filled up the Missouri River Valley and then was blown by winds east all over Iowa.  In the  Loess Hills (the source area) they can be up to sixty feet deep.  Only somewhere in China is this landscape duplicated.

Well, the coffee is ready, the ladies still sleep, and I want to get back into my book (The Old Patagonia Express by Paul Theroux).  Hopefully when I post this it will have some pictures attached.

Good news! I was able to post some pictures.  Today was exciting, fun, and involved clown dolls and fossils as well as some river swimming.  The ladies are trying to bum dish soap as we seemed to have left ours behind, the day is cooling off, and the flies are starting to bite.  Tell you all about it soon.