May 29, 2010

I, I, I, I just can’t fathom these vast prairies! Think of standing in the middle of 100,000 football fields linked together, then looking down and seeing that you are an ant! The Badlands were remarkable in their oddness, towers and jagged-edged rims rising up incongruously out of the green vastness.  Surreal.

I’m getting a little edgy with the vastness. Being awake isn’t that different from being asleep, in my unbounded dreams, sometimes allowing me entrance to territories that frighten and thrill me, and make me grateful for the waking moment when I return to my known self and my self-imposed boundaries. Alone in the vastness of this land, I’ve questioned myself:  Who am I without my usual boundaries? Can ego sit happily in the back seat and enjoy the journey? How vast can I grow? Who do I see when I am my only mirror? (Stay tuned, as answers develop.)

I drove 219 miles east today in a steady south-north crosswind. I could not take my hands off the wheel for a moment! When I finally turned north, the wind literally propelled me uphill! What a treat for the Motherload, poor tired darlin’.  We’re camped for free right on the confluence of the Bad River (which is brown) and the Missouri River (which is blue). This is an historic site, where Lewis and Clarke and the Corps of Discovery met with local Teton Sioux to trade gifts in exchange for being allowed to proceed along the Missouri river. A quarrel broke out, due mostly to language barrier, and almost came to arms. It was mitigated and resolved by quick-thinking and cool-headed Chief Black Bull. It’s SO GREAT to place my feet on the very exact spot where this event transpired, and think of my heroes, Lewis and Clark and Co. and their epic journey. A journey of such magnitude, such courage and faith, in which so much was discovered and learned, and so much shared upon their return. That’s why I was inspired to dub my own journey, “The Core of Discovery” a play on words and a tribute as well.

May 28, 2010

Did my walking tour through Deadwood, soaking in more local color. At midpoint, I shared a bench seat in the shade with three elderly ladies on vacation together. One of them shamed me into sharing my chocolate mint ice cream cone with Jubilee. I enjoyed passively listening to their banter and laughter. My favorite part was when a Wild Bill Hickok look-alike, dressed to the nines, waltzed down the street in our direction, tipping his hat. I overheard one of the ladies say, “I’d like to feel him sink his spurs into ME!” I almost spouted mint chip from my nose! I wanted to whack her on the knee and say, “Honey, let’s ask him!”

My final thrill for the day was Mount Rushmore. Again with the gaping maw. Again with the tears! I should have bought stock in Kleenex. I cried not only for the genius of the plan and the dedication of so many to carry it out; the engineering; the art, right down to Lincoln’s sparkling eyes; but for the imperfect yet heroic men who are memorialized there and for their passions, which survive eternity, perhaps.

May 26, 2010

Wheee-Haw! I’m in Deadwood, SD, and it’s ALIVE! What a spectacular Old West town. And what a gorgeous day. Local, legalized gambling proceeds have been used to restore the town’s historic buildings to their original splendor. The streets are paved not with gold, but old brick, which is quite charming. And no parking is allowed on Main Street, the most scenic artery of any old town I’ve ever seen, except maybe for Harper’s Ferry. The town was set in a pretty canyon along the Deadwood River and grew rapidly with the discovery of gold back in early 1870s. A historical marker shows the exact spot where Wild Bill Hickock was shot dead and where his killer was captured. Tomorrow I’ll take a walking tour and learn some more fascinating details to rev up my imagination.

Today I found the Mickelson Trail, which is purported to be one of the top 5 Rails-to-Trails in the US! I believe it. It runs about 100 easy miles between Edgemont and Deadwood, following the old abandoned railroad, of course. Some portions of the original rail are still visible in many places, as are the worn-out, bone-dry ties. I’m very drawn to this period of history, and I sense the reality of it. It’s like the history is still alive, and I’m merely a living hologram walking through it.

Anyone out there know what poison ivy looks like?

May 25, 2010

The sun came out today and I was able to get my bearings from the “clouds of imbecility” that descended over me yesterday. I drove an easy 100 miles today on the open, empty interstate 90 E, out of Wyoming to Spearfish, South Dakota. Well, not THAT easy: I was plagued by drowsiness the whole time, but able to mark the beauty of the land I trance-drove through. Pulled over about 6 times for jumping jacks and stretches. I pulled into the first campground I could find along the way: KOA. It’s lovely. Plenty of lush grass and a tiny creek for Jubie to pluck sticks from, squealing the whole time.  I ate a yummy and late Mexican lunch and fell into torporous splendor. After a long nap, we took a 5-mile walk. It’s now 9pm and I’m just waking up. UH OH. Bio-rhythms have run amok! 

May 24, 2010

Well, the rain just never stopped! I seriously considered evacuation measures, in case of flash flooding! Apparently, I was the only concerned citizen, though. Jubie and I “hit the trail” early this morning, hoping to anchor in a new good habit: start early, end early. We headed east through vast, undulating landscape. The clouds were very low, making for blurry lines between Heaven and Earth. In the Motherload, I pushed on, like a child weaseling between the covers: a green patchwork quilt beneath a grey silk duvet. Then the duvet began to smother us! We drove for 3 white-knuckle hours through a heavy downpour, hail, wind and dense fog, simultaneously, to gain 66 miles! When we finally reached the town of Gillette, I felt disoriented and raw-nerved. Jubie slept the entire time in peace, mostly on her back. I now consider myself the UBER-WHIMP. When I can’t run to Mama, I run to Motel! So now I’m sitting in comfort with my hand-delivered pepperoni pizza and cheap wine, hand-dipping my salad morsels into dressing because delivery did not include a fork. I know at some point I’m going to have to toughen up, to protect my wallet and extend my journey. But COME ON! Today was not the day!

May 23, 2010

Whoa Lil’ Doggie! I can’t even get over this wonderful day! I learned something very useful: leave camp early and don’t drive so darn far. I drove only 60 miles today, arriving at my new camp spot in Buffalo, Wy. by 1pm, rather than the usual 5pm or so. That gave me the rest of the day to explore, untired, for a change. I’m embarrassed what a slow learner I seem to be. I was privileged to see actual REAL cowboys in action this morning, running cattle from one pasture to another, through the main street of Ten Sleep. They don’t use horses anymore. They sit astride four-wheelers and whistle commands to their border collies instead. It was fascinating.

In Buffalo I found a beautiful bike/walking trail, quite serendipitously, as usual. Jubilee and I walked along in perfect bliss for a couple miles, then I plopped her in the basket and road like a 10-year-old along the sparkling black and green Big Horn River. I whooped out loud like either a cowboy or Indian, marveling at my splendid luck and awe of the beauty around me. Tomorrow I’ll explore “downtown” Buffalo, which consists of a two-lane, two-block road of historical buildings, including the Occidental Hotel, quite famous for lodging Butch and Sundance, and Calamity Jane. And also for being quite beautiful and a wonderful place to rest weary bones in a day when folks never heard of rest. 

While I was cooking dinner, a rainstorm blew in. So now I’m getting ready for some popcorn and hot chocolate and a fine movie, while listening to the tapping on my rooftop.

May 22, 2010

I’m double-dirty-dog tired after a wonderful and full day driving through incredible landscapes, backtracking and detouring due to road repairs and closures, and basically living in utter awe all day long. Wyoming is so expansive and untamed, I have no words. The words I wanted to say were, “Oh my precious God in Heaven, hallowed be thy name!” but that would have required me closing my gaping mouth. I suffered an awe-inspired muteness instead, and brayed like a donkey. I have found a campsite in Ten Sleep, Wy. (I have to find out how this town got its name!), on the outskirts of town, which is just a few feet from the beginning of town. 

I cannot comprehend the wide-open, unchallenged vastness of such a place as Wyoming. I hope in my dreams tonight my spirit is beckoned to grow to the scale.

Sorry my camera battery died this morning. Tomorrow I hope to have some kind of decent record of this place!

May 21, 2010

Ahhhhhh! What a splendid day. Not to start, though. I awoke looking like an old whiskey-drinking hag: tired, wrinkled, haggard, and unprepared for the rigors of a day on the road. It seemed every little task before me was mated to its enemy: lethargy. Every hair on my head moved in one direction: into my eyes. My baggy pants drooped and twisted around my legs, hindering every step. What a fashion plate! I looked in the mirror and thought, “Crumpled waxed paper has more appeal.”  This was the most offsetting morning in six weeks!

I looked over at my precious little Jubilee, folded around a heavenly cloud of dirty clothes. She looked up and gave me short, expectant wags of her tail (doggie for “YEAH!”), as if I was the good news she was waking for. It caught me in my tracks. I thought about the energy of my petulance and angst being transferred to her, instead of the energy of good news. In that instant I cleaned up my act!

The day cleaned up right nicely, too. I drove a total of 19 miles, backtracking to the State Park I meant to stay at yesterday. I’ve got a swell campsite by the river, grassy fields for Jubie and I to play in, gorgeous arena of guilded rock formations to bounce and absorb light, and a sky that continually smears, blurs, and runs its vibrant colors together like a living watercolor. I got my canopy up without a snag, cooked a fine dinner over the campfire, met all my camping neighbors and their dogs, and now I’m ready for beddie!

May 20, 2010

OK, I turned the corner on Yellowstone! I arose at 6 am and left the campground to make my way east to Cody, Wyoming. The grey-velvet clouds of yesterday were drawn open today, like theatre curtains, to reveal an uncommonly beautiful stage: 360 degrees of Yellowstone splendor! I did not know what I was missing yesterday. The river! The snowy peaks! The elk and bison!  Plus, I was almost the only person on the road. There were several long delays, but they were only to wait and watch, transfixed, as bison walked along the highway, indifferent to my presence. I watched with reverence as one old guy walked up to the Motherload, sizing her up for ramming potential. Then came a magic moment when his gaze shifted and he looked me straight in the eye! A moment so crystalline I could almost hear the “chink.”

The entire drive to Cody was just breathtaking. I could almost “see” Butch and Sundance flying off one of the cliffs to the Shoshone River, below. Miraculous landscapes. Impossibly blue skies, putt-putt clouds. Just grand.

I intended to stroll around Cody for the afternoon, which I did, then make my way back about 15 miles to the Buffalo Bill State Park, where I had scoped out a wonderfully grassy, wide-open campsite, which I didn't. After browsing around the Old Trails Ghost Town and walking a long way along the river and reservoir, the wind came up so strong it nearly air-lifted me. I don’t know why, but wind like that drives me straight to madness or motel-land. Like an outlaw, I retreated to a hovel on the edge of town. After dark, I  braved the wind one last time and stole into town for a prime rib dinner at the famous Irma Hotel, built by Buffalo Bill Cody in 1902. After the crime against my body, I took apple pie to go and am now holed up with Jubilee in our teensy room, sharing the spoils. Together we make our own little Hole-in-the-Wall gang.

May 19, 2010

Today was all about Yellowstone and crossing the Continental Divide. I zig-zagged three times across the flinty spine of our homeland, and yes, it’s true, the rivers DO flow east. But they kinda flow north for awhile, too. There are some areas where they are not flowing at all! It’s still winter up here, pretty much. Very grey, cold, cloudy, fogged over. Yellowstone and Jackson Lakes are almost completely frozen over, and many areas of the rivers are blockaded by huge clumps of ice. Dirty snow folds over the landscape like great slabs of melted, cheap-o, chocolate chip ice cream.

My drive up to Old faithful was quite long due to many road work delays. During the delays, I read a book, waiting for the flaggers to beckon me forward. When I finally reached Yellowstone Lodge, I was not thrilled by what greeted me:  expansive, crowded parking lots, construction barricades everywhere, debris, orange-mesh safety barriers, chain-link fences, and lots of chaos, energetically. There was nowhere for the eye to focus and find rest. The lodges were beautiful and stately, but the eyesores all around them made hard work of the imagination: how did this all look 80 years ago? Ten years ago?

I slapped a peanut butter sandwich together and scurried off down the gritty paved path to sit in an arena with hundreds of folks like me, waiting to watch Old Faithful do his thing. He’s not as faithful as he used to be, due to fairly recent seismic activities. We all experienced an eruption interruption. There were several false starts, then finally: BLAMM-O!!! About 2.5 minutes of spewage! It reminded me of a time last year, when pressure was building in my life to the extent that I “blew,” very similarly. But my mother, the only spectator, was not at a safe distance for the spectacle. I think I nearly par-boiled her with my anger. I’m still sorry, Mom.

The crowds quickly parted afterwards and headed directly to the lodge for food and souvenirs. I pressed forward like a trained athlete to the front of the crowd where I rewarded myself with a small bowl of vegetarian chili in a paper cup, for which I paid $6.  Good grief!

Jubie and I drove another 40 miles or so to Fishing Bridge Campground, where we’re holed up for the night. Don’t let the name seduce you into thinking: quaint, picturesque, bridgey, fishermen, fresh fish, views of the lake. Nope. Just a parking lot with water hook-up but no electricity, for which I paid $32. Bad grief! I walked ½ mile to the little grocery store to purchase a bottle of wine and some salad fixin’s, but was “carded” (come ON!) and turned away because I had left my I.D. back at the Motherload.

Well, I made due with a dinner of hot chocolate, sautéed zucchini and crackers. I’m hitting the sack soon as the sun goes down, hoping to get out of here by 7am. I ask you, have you EVER known a nature-lover who did NOT like Yellowstone? I’m ashamed to admit it. Maybe it’s the weather, maybe the pre-season crowds (I truly CANNOT imagine being here during peak season), but I leave unimpressed. Although I feel great compassion for Old Faithful, the name he’s expected to live up to, and the unrest and angst he holds in his belly.

May 18, 2010

Took off this morning for a grand bike ride along the valley of the Grand Tetons. It is so stunningly magnificent to breathe the same elements that helped carve the texture of these crusty, majestic giants. There were numerous plaques of historic value dotting my journey—also a pleasure to sit and ponder the rugged spirits that “tamed” this unforgiving valley. There is a meandering bike path that follows the main road into the park, and it’s a rider’s dream. However, no dogs allowed on the path. When I stopped at the entrance station, I asked if I could “carry” my dog with me in her bike basket. The park ranger said I am the very first person to pose the question since the path’s beginning! He called headquarters to get an answer, but nobody knew, so I road along in perfect bliss. I’m wondering if there will be a comely commemorative plaque placed at the site.

May 17, 2010

WOO-HOO! Drunk aas a skunk on one Bud Lite at high altitude! Pulled into a nifty little RV park at Bear Lake, Idaho, on my way to Grand Tetons tomorrow. Once I pulled in and got meself hooked up, a woman came running across the grassy field between ;us, smiling, and waving her arms like little flags. “Hello,” she called to me. I could tell Cupid had struck her straight in the heart and she was dumb-plumb in love at first sight with—no, not me, sillies—the Motherload! Turns our she is a fantastic photographer from Sweden, and has been traveling all around the country, following her bilss, climbing, shotting (oh geez, I mean shooting) photos, and writing. Quite a gal. Check out her website at: www.katjatorneman.com. We fell into conversation and found we speak the same language of heart and soul. Her traveling friend is from—get this: Corvallis, OR. Graduated OSU same year I did! Moved to Seattle though.

Anyway, the next day we sort of played pass the baton while we headed north to Teton National Pakr. Though our travels were independent, we kept meeting up along the way, and actually ended up camped at the same spot the next evening at Gross Ventre, Wy! I’ll get her website link on my blog here as soon as me haed clears up from the Bud.

I saw Bison and one female moose, grazing along the Snake River. It’s cold, not a trace of spring yet in the valley.

Well, I’ve come to a very peaceful and delightful place in my journey: My sister-in-law’s home in Ogden, Utah. The rigors of the road have worn me out well in preparation for this respite of the body, heart, and spirit. For instance, our first evening together, we plopped on her couch bed and watched TV, enjoying my favorite snack: her poetry, of which I ate every word. The next day, I finally opened my art box and sat down to paint, my artist gears grinding and creaking into motion like an ancient grist mill. My first painting of this journey is almost done!

Three days of splendor, rest, deep conversation, food from the garden, food for the soul, laughter, bits of wisdom, joy, deep breathing, sharing the best parts of our lives: Motherhood, and now it’s time to get myself back on the journey. A little wiser, a little more connected to self, and deeply grateful.

May 11, 2010

It got so cold last night that my memory-foam mattress hardened like a park bench. It snowed and rained and hailed all night, and the Motherload rocked most agreeably in the wind. I slept like a cradled baby and never noticed the hardened mattress until I nearly bruised the backs of my legs climbing out of bed!

Today was such a sweet, relaxing day at the lake. We took several walks through the campground and around the lake to bask in the saturated, ever-changing colors that played across the landscape, which included us, in shades of russet, gold, aqua. 

The multi-hued clouds seemed to “FWAP” across the lake, like laundry on a line, spreading out one moment, then rebunching the next. Quite dramatic!

It was too cold to BBQ so I made an even colder salad and fried up a big, fat piece of frozen cheese pizza (It's much better than microwaved). Yum, Yum! Settled down to watch “Julie and Julia” on Netflix On Demand, snuggled up with my little Jubilee under the splendid blanket my dear mother made. What bliss. Did I mention the popcorn and hot chocolate? Utter bliss! Outside, the rain pattered on my rooftop, and inside, my heart pitter-pattered with delight.

As my son Hans said, at age 2: "I can't get over this whole wide world!" I hope we never do.

Tomorrow I will leave this enchanted place and drive to another enchanted place: the home of my dear friend and now sister-by-marriage: Annette, extraordinary artist and all-around good egg.

May 10, 2010

Oh sweet Mother of God, I have been redeemed! Today was possibly the BEST day of 30, rivaled only by the day at Disneyland! Jubilee and I made a leisurely departure from the comfort of our motel room, walking down the street to purchase a breakfast to go, which we ate in a sunny picnic area, my hands curled around the warm to-go cup.

Our whole day was taken at a leisurely pace. Therefore (I think),  I was graced with the serendipitous discovery of a marvelous bike path along the Sevier River. The scenery today along Highway 89 was refreshingly verdant, with new leaves marking the late arrival of spring. Highway 89 follows the river and its companion willow groves, and every now and then I’d get a glimpse of what looked to be an abandoned road, running parallel. I just happened to glance over at a break in the groves, revealing a perfect bike path, about 4 or 5 feet wide. It runs for probably 30 miles as a smaller twin to Hwy 89. I pulled over and loaded up for the ride, my exuberance making a clutz of me, like kid at the entrance to Disneyland (and I should know!). I knocked over my water bottle, and next my bike.

In a moment of maturity, I thought it best to give Jubilee some exercise first, so we walked together for about 2 miles, while she nosed around for ground squirrels. Then I placed her in her "caboose" and we rode in sweet, joyful, splendor.  That is until Jubilee became so fretful about all her missed squirrel opportunities that I feared she would leap out of her basket and break apart on impact! I felt I had no reasonable choice but to put her back on the ground and walk along with her. Oh, this kind of maturity aches! This is the first time in 3 years that I ever resented her. And I’m ashamed to admit it—she was only obeying what’s encoded in her DNA. However, it may play out that the necessary shortening of this gorgeous, perfect ride could be a lasting regret.

Oh well! I got over it. It was marvelous entertainment for about 2 hours, and we had a most wondrous day anyway. I found a terrific spot to camp at Palisades State Park, which is situated on a pristine lake rimmed by stately, just-budding willows. I BBQ’d a big, fat steak—something I haven’t had in half a year. It’s been 3 hours of digestion now, and I’m still fondly reminiscing. We walked around the entire campground at the magic hour when the sun ignites everything it touches with gold.

Thus ended a rather perfect day! I may decide to stay another!

May 9, Mother's Day

Today just sucked. No other words. Nothing even went wrong, really. I think I”ve just hit some sort of traveler’s wall. Little things irritated me greatly and great things didn’t impress me. I drove through the Vermillion Cliffs, one of nature’s finest creations, and I’m ashamed to say, I mostly kept my eyes on the road, counting down the endless miles. I also kept a white-knuckle grip on the wheel to steady our course against the 60mph winds.

I’m just plumb tuckered out. Driving against the sun and the wind reduces me to camel-speed. The miles stretched endlessly before me, the sun was electromagnetically searing a hole through my head, and my eyes were filled with grit. I felt I was being pushed away by giant hands saying "don't come here!" Maybe I should have gone East.

The scenery was beautiful in the high altitude desert (7,000+ feet). We got out many times to walk and stretch and try to reclaim some enthusiasm, but I couldn’t manufacture any. I just had a bad case of mirth-lack.  I tried to find a suitable campground where I could just “hole up” for a couple days but none were to be found, except little gravel parking lots with no trees for $25/night. Extreme YUK!

I intended to stop at Zion and/or Bryce Canyons, but can you believe I skipped them both for the irresistible draw of a clean, quiet, dim motel room with a shower? I made it to Panguitch, Ut, and checked in, receiving a $10 discount because of my desperate haggardness, I think.

I fell into bed with clean hair and the TV on, guilty of treason against my own dream.
The verdict: Not guilty, due to temporary insanity. 

May 8, 2010

The staff at La Posada granted me permission to camp overnight in their well-lit parking lot! They are the nicest folks! This morning, after being given a free cup of coffee, Jubilee and I made our way slowly to the Grand Canyon, south rim. Talk about being awe-struck! (Think: Daffy Duck with his beak literally twisting freely around his head.) That’s how slack-jawed I felt. We walked about 5 miles, grateful for the rule that allows dogs on the paved path. It was a gorgeous walk and the views were mind-boggling, stupendous, and I was filled with wonder. The crowds were a bit troublesome at first, but after about ½ mile, the crowds thinned out so that I could actually sit alone in wonder, without subconsciously taking sides or metering out advice on overheard conversations.

I last saw the Grand Canyon when I was 6 years old. At that time, the only man-made structures were a small visitor’s building and gift shop, and a short, stubby stone wall with pipe guardrails that stretched, oh, maybe 100 feet. Oh yes, and a small, paved parking lot (more like a pull-out). I was totally amazed and confused by the web of sructural growth and the complexity of the pathways, and got turned around several times (lots of new construction and road work and very poor signs), which accounts for at least 2 of the miles I hiked today. Also, it now costs $25 to stand there and look at what nature accomplished all by herself, as opposed to it being free to do the same thing 47 years ago.

Here’s a laugh: I also drove about 20 miles out of my way to see the crater where the meteor hit eons ago. But when I got there, they said I”d have to pay $15 and keep my dog in the steaming car. That crater has been there for several hundred thousand years, so I guess the cost of looking at it has gone up very slowly. I declined, though, and hit the long road.

May 7, 2010

Arrived in Winslow, AZ, my father’s boyhood home, after an incredibly long, straight, windy, hot, monotonous, laborious drive along what used to be Route 66, but is now I-40. I hardly recognized Main Street (Historic US 66) when I pulled into town. Many “improvements”, such as street widenings, building face lifts, new commerce, and a sense of  energy, compared to 7 years ago when the entire town seemed under a sleeping spell. The historic hotel, La Posada, which was completed when my dad was about 6 years old, has been undergoing renovations inside and out. That, at least, TRULY IS an improvement—very much in keeping with the 1930’s period. La Posada was a big ol’ deal back then, catering to such famies as Clark Gable and Errol Flynn, as they arrived in style on the Southern Pacific Railroad, which  unloaded its passengers right at the front door!

My dad, my son Hans, and I made a pilgrimage, of sorts, to this unholy yet legendary land in 2003, just before Alzheimers claimed Dad’s memory and wit. He walked us step by step and word for word through the town of his youth, recalling every detail, and bringing alive for us, once again, his stories of growing up in a one-paved-road town during the depression. Oh, if only a movie could be made!

 

Later, I made my way to Clear Creek, Dad’s favorite hangout as a kid. He spent many summer days splashing in the cold, clear waters with his brother and cousin, rinsing off a week’s worth of grime and grit, only to re-grit on the 5-mile bike ride back to home.

I played with Jubie for a long time, tossing sticks into the creek and watching her leap into the water and retrieve. When we were alone, I gathered 86 stones for my dad’s 86 years and arranged them on an altar. I placed sprigs of new growth in the center, then placed a rock that I stole from his old home on top of that, to commemorate his beginnings as a 5yr old in Winslow. I arranged the rest of the 85 rocks in a vortex to create an energy field to beckon in the help and love of God and our ancestors. I said a long prayer, then I just sat there in utter gratitude for the enormous gift my dad is to me and the rest of the family. I imagined him splashing and playing in the perfectly clear, cold water of Clear Creak, which is not really that clear anymore due to damming. I so loved imagining him as a young boy, so sweet and full of life and creativity and wonder and whimsy. I just know my Grandma loved him like I love my own boy. I prayed for my dad’s spirit to leave when it's ready, and fall into the arms of  his beloveds beyond this realm. 

May 6, 2010

Hiked a loop around a vortex in Sedona. It's true what they say about the vortexes. My heart space felt swaddled in cotton batting and infused with well-being! (Think: 3 months old and held by the madonna.) Who can explain such things?

Each day brings a new learning experience. I backed the Motherload over a metal guardrail (trust me, too difficult to explain why), and was snared and unable to move forward.  I hammered the guardrail with all my might, which was akin to hammering an anvil--useless. Then I remembered I had leveling blocks! I used those to elevate the Motherload's rear end and freed us from the jaws of steel.

I've discovered how easy it is to ask for help. And people respond not only with willingness but with enthusiasm! If I ask one person and three people are around, they ALL join in. "People who need people ARE the luckiest people in the world."

I've been gone 28 days and I've only encountered one sour-puss. Everyone else has been jolly, friendly, helpful, and kind. Little sweet miracles keep showing up to light my way. I'm gaining confidence in my ability to resolve the little problems that arise from day to day, and best of all, I'm learning the art of just BEING, of expanding the space between moments.

May 5, 2010

I watched myself struggle today with “trying” to have the kind of adventurous day that I “should” have, while I just really wanted to sit in a chair in the shade and read my book. It was a real taffy pull. The hike I began at 10am was aborted due to heat. I’ll try again tomorrow and leave at about 7am to wander the red desert of scarlet monoliths. I think we hiked about 3 miles, stopping many times for shade and water. We came back to our camp at about 11:30 and played in the creek that runs along the campground. Cold and clear and delightful. I busied myself with home chores for a couple hours, then sat down to read in the shade of the motherload. Jubilee napped next to me in her own patio chair. Didn’t I earn a nice relaxing afternoon? Why, then, did the internal monologue go something like this: “Here you are in this gorgeous country, full of adventure and marvel, and you’ve got your sunburned beak in a book! Why don’t you go play a video game and really waste the day!” Fortunately, part of my home chores included riding my bike into town for an ice-cold beer, which pretty much relaxed the internal haggler, and softened the taffy. It’s interesting how quick I am to judge each passing hour of my journey by how meaningful, exciting, or momentous it is. I did not know this judge resided within me.

When I say my prayers, I’ll pray for this judge to find a great new home in the reincarnated psyche of  Magellan. 

May 4, 2010

May 4, 2010

Today is what it’s all about, baby! Today, I drove for miles along the winding desert backroads north of Phoenix on my way to Sedona. It’s impossible to describe the landscape without sounding like one of Ray Bradbury’s characters on a distant planet. I stopped many times along the way to wade with Jubilee in the Tonto Creek, to eat a sandwich to the sound of nothing but cool, dry breezes and intermittent birdsongs, or just take in the sight with my mouth agape, presenting a target for curious bugs. I rarely passed a car (I should say a car rarely passed ME, since I am ever timid about pushing the Motherload beyond her comfort zone of 45mph, and have NEVER, EVER passed a car anywhere!).  I loved every aching-butt minute of today because it was backroads all the way. One gorgeous turn in the road after another, each one revealing a weird twist on cactus formations, a flock of buzzards taking flight just beyond the hood, or crazy-beautifully sculptured rocks, mesas, gorges, and a 360-degree vista that stretched beyond the curve of the earth, except where the mountains cut it off like great fists grabbing at sand.

When I finally rounded the bend on Hwy 179 leading directly to Sedona, my first view of the iconic scarlet rock formations sent a chill down my spine. In that instant I really GOT IT that I am DOING this adventure. I conceived the idea, I daydreamed it, I planned it, I made it happen and now I’M IN THE MIDST OF IT. I can’t explain the thrill that ran through me: like an electric current, but oh so sweet and melty!

Gratitude lumped up in my throat, which was dry anyway, and I had to swallow hard to keep breathing, gulping the beauty and sending forth great waves of gratitude, watching the hairs on my arms rise and wriggle like miniscule charmed snakes. 

May 1,2010

Here's a laugh: a couple mornings ago, I was camped at William Heise County Park near Julian, CA (east of San Diego). I had a wonderful drive there, just gorgeous countryside, no hurries, great little place to stay for the night. Had a great little meal, watching a family of deer outside my window, and a flock of turkeys rooting about. Next morning, when I flushed the toilet, the hose at the back of the toilet broke free and spewed about a gallon of water all over the bathroom. I panicked for a moment, not knowing if this was clean or dirty water. Tthen I thought suddenly to turn off the water pump. that certainly helped mitigate the spewage. I was unable to reattach the hose because a piece mysteriously broke off. So I was without toilet for 24 hours. Another crappy thing happened, too, but i'll spare you. I was out walking off my frustration when I encountered a park ranger who told me where I could get help with the repairs. It was a gorgeous 50-mile drive on a country road, straight to the repair place, on the way to my nephew's home in Escondido. The repairman was so kindly and so thrilled about my adventure (he had "camped" America in the 80s and never had a better time in his life). He only charged me 1/2 price for the labor, just to be a nice guy. see what I mean?

May 2, 2010

Awoke this morning at 5:15 to a bright sunny sky and the music of morning doves and twittering others and the rustle of leaves. Since it was sunday and I had not found a church while going thru town last night, I decided to get out my banjo and sing a few of the hymns from my church in Corvallis. My fingers are so dry and cracked, i wasn't sure if I could apply any pressure to the banjo strings. Oh Susannah! Even if I could, it's been half a year since I held a banjo on my knee. It went better than I thought. I especially enjoyed Amazing Grace, one of my all time favorites. Luckily, most of the neighbors are gone (the RV place is strictly a snowbird neighborhood).

Afterwards, Jubie and I walked the endless, faceless grid that defines Yuma, then returned and loaded up the bike. We rode for an hour over land as flat and dry as the back of my hands. The desert floor, leading up to the surrounding mountains is truly beautiful in it's austerity. plenty of sage (I think), Acacia trees (I also think), and other yellow-flowering bushes. Very pretty. This natural landscape has been largely plowed over and paved to make settlement grids and a golf course. I longed all day to see some water and a shade tree. As the day progressed, it got much hotter and quite windy. I always feel restless and edgy with so much wind, and I could not find respite from the glaring, hot sun. I tried to put up my portable canopy and had a WHOLE LOT OF TROUBLE! I worked and strained against the metal and the wind, and again, I was reduced to tears. I couldn't keep the hair out of my eyes, the bugs out of my face, my spirits out of the toilet. At last, after one last big breath and all my resolve, I got it up! It provided a little shade to read a book under. but the wind was relentless and the bugs stronger than the wind. either that or they were just using my face as a crash-landing site. At about 5 I gave up and packed up my Motherload, dumped the holding tanks, refilled the freshwater tank, removed any visible sign that we were there, and hit the road. I made it about 35 miles when i saw this lovely NEW motel off the I-8 interstate. I abruptly left the freeway and checked myself in for a night of comfort, space, cleanliness and TV. I also splurged and walked over to Jack in the Box for a burger, fries and chocolate milkshake. My pants have become so alarmingly baggy, I figure a couple thousand calories will do me good. I walked up to the drivethru window, where a border patrolman was waiting in his car for his order. I asked the worker at the window if I could just place my order there rather than go inside. I told him I didn't have a car and that I had my little dog with me and  couldn't walk into the restaurant with her. He said no, you have to go inside. As I pondered whether Jubilee would tolerate being tied up outsisde for a few minutes in a strange place, the border patrolman looked very sympathetically at me and said, "I sure wish I could help you, Mam." I realized then that I looked so disheveled by the wind, with gritty grime all over me, my pants floating around me in the wind, and a little dog on a leash--no car. I looked just like a hapless vagabond! He must have been perplexed when I chuckled my "thankyou anyway". I figured it was too long of a story for a fast food drive-through.

May 1, 2010

After leaving my nephew's home, I drove about 200 miles east to Yuma, where my property manager's parents have a little RV spot that they offered to me for $10/night. So generous. I was sure worn out by the time I got there, and it was hot and glaring at 5pm. Anyway, there was a a lock on the gate that I just could not finesse or wrestle open, dashing my hopes of a place to stay for the night. I worked on the lock for about 15 minutes then sat by the gate and cried a tear or two, big baby that I am. finally, I figured I've GOT to be smarter than a dumb lock! Turns out I am, even if only by a slim margin. I got in and hooked up and relaxed to the sound of doves outside my windows. My spot had a quaint little brick patio, just right for grillin' and sittin' but I had no charcoals, so just did the sittin' part. It was a fenced area, so Jubilee could roam about as she wished. Her wish was to lay in my chair, so I sat on the bricks and sang little songs to the evening, which was beginning to cool quite nicely.

April 22, 2010

During my stay with my cousin Charlee Ann, I hastily turned a sharp right and bumped the Motherload over the curb! Oops. the impact launched my microwave off the shelf and it smashed itself onto the floor. Luckily, my herb garden and guardian angel survived the impact, as did all my dishes and my spinal column! Jubilee airlifted about 2 feet out of her carseat, ears in the air on the descent.  Hans tried to repair the microwave, but it was a gonner, I think, so we went to Sears and selected a new, smaller version, which I secure on the shelf with an extension rod. I'm still carting the old microwave around on my couch, as I've yet to locate a place to unload it.

My new stereo abruptly stopped working, too, but Hans was able to fix that by removing my battery cable, then restoring it, and VOILA! Music! He downloaded about 700 incredible songs on my computer, which I've downloaded in turn to my ipod. great travel music.


My son is the best playmate ever! We'll never get too old for a little FantasyLand!

April 20, 2010

Here's my son Hans, at Santa Monica Beach, making do without the monkey tail I always promised him.

OK, I learned something really important about myself: I HATE driving! Hmmmmm. This is somewhat tempered by the fact that I LOVE arriving somewhere. 200 miles in one day seems to be the limit for my butt and for my attention span, and can only be accomplished with multiple stops for play, stretching, snacking. The back roads are far superior in scenic wonders, whereas the interstates suck the energy out of me. However, the back roads usually meander over hills and dells, and are curvy, which really eats up the gas. I'm trying to conserve where I can, but also take the routes that bring the most pleasure.

I never know what the day will bring. At least once each day (usually more often), I am overcome with a sense of awe that I'm actually DOING this journey! How in the world can this be? it's like I made a decision one day and then the Universe said, "Oh, OK, Let me work it all out for you." I've been so blessed by all kinds of helpful people and lucky breaks. I've also been blessed with some mishaps to keep me grounded. More than once, I've thought, what the heck am I doing? Can I really handle this? What was my vision again?

One evening while parked outside Hans' house in Santa Monica, the police rapped at my door. (They sure have authoritative knuckles!) They said they were responding to a complaint about a vagrant parked in the neighborhood. They checked my I.D. and asked what my business was in the neighborhood. "just visiting my son and daughter-in-law" seemed innocent enough. They took a look around and very kindly apologized for the intrusion and told me I could stay another night, even though the city of Santa Monica has a strict ordinance against nefarious overnighters. I get a laugh out of thinking about myself as not only a vagabond, but a vagrant!