Chelsea, MI

The days go by so very fast. That's why, just in case you were wondering, I sometimes don't find the time to write. There is so much to do. Sometimes, no news is good news. If I were to be writing a lot, take pity, because it would seem, I have nothing better to do.

I'm in Chelsea, Michigan. I am staying with Cousin Tom and his wife Deb, in their 1929 home with a homemade pond and creek, tall grasses, lily pads, frogs, birds and goldfish. Very nice! While I am here I hope to visit with other cousins I haven't seen in quite a while.

It's a little chilly and gloomy out. They keep telling me this is not the usual Michigan weather for July, but I am not convinced. We have not had the opportunity to have dinner on the back deck. Too cold. I had put my blue jeans and long sleeves away, not expecting to need them any more on this trip, not since leaving the mountains, but I do and so had to dig them out of the back-up suitcase. After Cincy's excessive sun and heat however, this is not altogether unpleasant weather.

My last days in Cincinnati were filled with leisure sightseeing, shopping, and tasting the city's unique cuisine from Coney dogs to ribs. I was shown the city at night, from the other side of the Ohio. From Kentucky. The lights were worth the trip. The bridges and tall buildings glowed and twinkled from behind the dark outline of an old riverboat. Back at the hotel, we sat up late listening to more stories and speculation on TV regarding the recent death of Michael Jackson. The mornings in Cincy were slow and wonderfully comfortable and unhurried. The visit was over too soon.

It took me about five hours of interstate driving to get to Chelsea. I got to thinking old familiar thoughts that I have thought about too many times already, obsessive thoughts, unhappy thoughts about my divorce. A rehash of what happened. Trying to figure out what didn't make sense. Trying to figure out was said, what was done, what. what, what? Damn! I allowed myself the time to dwell once more. But I am OK with that. The bad feelings would be short lived I knew, and sometimes I just need to let my mind do it's thing.

(Ok, It has been almost a year since the divorce, and yes, it still unfortunately, sadly crosses my mind from time to time)

This time, though, a new perspective. A new approach. A missing puzzle piece. A thought I hadn't thought before. Wondering. Making sense. I will think about it again when I have time. It was enough for now. I reached my destination. The goodbye feeling was replaced by hello as I knocked on Tom and Deb"s door.

Greetings and chit chat. One of my favorite things!

Each morning Deb, her friend Cathy, and I walked all over Chelsea. I enjoyed yet another small town's appealing old homes and gardens. One afternoon, we walked main street, stopping in most of the small shops and went to see the Chelsea Teddy Bear Factory. At 7:30 PM we went to the ice rink and watched Tom play hockey. Hockey is a big thing in Chelsea. and the ice complex is impressive. As for me, it was surely a unique way to spend a few hours. I had a good time in the second floor restaurant sipping hot chocolate and Kahlua and watching the skaters.

On Wednesday, we went to Greenfield Village. Greenfield Village is an extensive re-creation of an old time town complete with pottery, glass, tin, candy and blacksmith shops, newspaper press, homes, plantation, railroad roundhouse, farm buildings, etc. The highlights are Thomas Edison's laboratories and the information about his inventions and life. He is responsible for over 1400 inventions some of major consequences to our every day lives. What an amazing man! I also enjoyed the Model T Fords driving down the streets, a rest stop that included popcorn and root beer, and a ride on a big frog on an old carousel. You wouldn't be disappointed if you went out of your way to put Greenfield Village on your itinerary.

After dinner at the Mongolian Grill we were back home, tired but happy, while rain and gloom brought on the evening. but never mind the weather, all in all, it was another good day on the road.

Chelsea is home of Jiffy. This is the factory where they make those little boxes of muffin and cornbread mix that you buy in the grocery store. I wanted a tour, but they closed for the holiday. Rats!

While I live in a small town, our beach town in Florida is a very different animal from the Midwest small towns I have been spending time in. For one thing there is no real downtown in IRB, but rather a mile and a half main drag edged by seasonal accommodations, condos, a couple of small strip centers, scattered restaurants and private homes. We have only a couple of nice shops, but even more vacant lots in need of landscaping. We do have a wonderful beach but that’s not on the main boulevard.

Yesterday evening, Tom, Deb and I walked across the backyard through where the fence used to be. We picked a few blackberries from scattered bushes and headed up to Main Street to join the rest of the town folks who were wandering around listening to a variety of musicians. There was a loud rock and roll band on the corner of Main and 1st, an Irish duo with a guitar and a dulcimer on the lawn in front of the library (America’s best #1 small library!), a suit and tie clad jazz combo on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant, a “hillbilly” trio playing “Chug-a-Lug, Chug-a-lug” in the alley beside an art gallery, three boys playing plastic bucket drums by the bookstore, a solo folk singer on the factory commons, a brass trio in a parking lot and a small band with a Latin singer who sounded like Elvis doing their thing in a sunken cement entry to another restaurant.

Chelsea is a town of about 2000. And I think most of them were out and about Thursday night wandering around town. Main Street isn’t even a half mile long, but it was filled with the sound of music. The shops were open for business. There was a hot dog vendor, a couple of guys twisting balloons into animals and a man balancing a stool on his chin. Adults and little children sat on the grass, folding chairs or curbs to enjoy the sounds. This went on for two hours. And it happens every Thursday for most of the summer! It was wonderful and filled my soul with a good feeling.

Lovin' wherever I am

I think I get to liking wherever I am. Nancy has been showing me Cincinnati, the colorful neighborhoods, the fantastic views, cute boutiques and coffee shops, the downtown and the Palm Court at the Netherlands Hilton where we had some sort of blackberry and blueberry drink concoctions that were tall and cool on a really hot day. And it has been really hot, even for these Florida girls.

I particularly love the variety of downtown architecture and the old narrow Victorian style homes brightly painted in many colors and the up and down brick streets running through each residential community with little restaurants and shops for locals.

We went to the Pendleton Art Center Final Friday open house event last night. The center is housed in some sort of old factory building. There were seven floors of individual art studios to peruse. Wonderful art. Unique art. Mostly original stuff. We wore out before we made it to all seven floors and went to a nearby pub mostly to sit and rest.

It is nothing like IRB here. It is a totally different lifestyle. You see men in suits and ties here. Everything is on a hill. There are really big buildings and Wabi Sabi sort of really old loved homes. And some not so loved sadly needy homes. A big river. I have been impressed. Lots to do. Places to go. Ohio. Not my cup of tea, but yet.......I can see why people could like it.

It has been nice to stop for a moment on this road trip of mine and wake up slow in the morning and snuggle in a soft many pillowed bed. Taking the time to get to know a place is good. I have been pretty much on the move, although I did slow down long enough to get a feel for California, Seattle, Denver and Arkansas City. When seeing a place through the eyes of someone else, a place takes on a little of their individual personality. It is not just me doing what I always do. It is me doing what someone else always does. Seeing with their perspective, seeing what they love and how they choose to spend their time is really fine.

And here in Cincy I even have Wifi and time to blog. And that's before breakfast!

Cincy

Sittin' in a room at the Crowne Plaza in Cincy. Bloggin' and chatting with Nancy, a friend from back home in IRB. I just wanted to create the picture in your mind of me in Cincinnati, crossed legged on the bed, computer in front of me, typing away, occasionally being interrupted with conversation (both ways) on topics of just about anything.

I lost an hour getting here, to the banks of the Ohio river, but I am now back in my own time zone. Ohio is where I was born and raised, but even so, home never felt like home. My then husband and I moved south as soon as we both graduated from college. But it feels strange to be back in Ohio, spending a little time. I have never been crazy about the Midwest. Don't know why.

I would like to say that I looked forward to every mile on this trip, but I didn't looking forward to the drive through the Midwest. I just wanted to move on through. Add the oppressive heat and the long drive without a lot of interesting diversion and it this is not the good stuff of the trip.

My odometer now reads over 12,000. I think I started around 4,000.

I am finally able to appreciate down time more, time when I don’t write, or think. Less of a restless wandered, less wide-eyed. Possibly this has to do with geography.

As I left the Ozarks, the terrain became more and more familiar. The hills, the vegetation and the trees were the sort of woods I use to play in when I was little. There was an old familiar feeling that came over me. As a kid, back when it was safe to go into the woods alone, I spent many hours "playing" outside, picking wild flowers, and meeting up with my cousins from the other side of the woods to build huts. We knew where we could squeeze under the fence, where to find the big rocks and where to pick blackberries and pussy willows. You know, the good ole days.

Back then, I had no idea where life would lead me. So now I am seeing a montage of time passed, a glimpse of me as a little kid, a college student at Kent State, getting married, leaving Ohio, having kids, teaching school, other jobs, different homes, divorce and right up to here, 62 and on the road. Who knew? Heck, back then, no cells phones, no computers, no blogging!

Anyway, here I am.

Here I go!

Gonna explore Cincy.

Love ya more today than yesterday. Take care my friends. Catch ya later.

PHOTOS!!!

Past St. Louis and Heading East....Slowly

I've spent the last week in Kansas. Yes folks, a WEEK in KANSAS!

And I loved it! The life style is easy and manageable. Everything you really need is close by and you can get there driving down roads with very little traffic. Home is comfortable. Southeastern Kansas has hills and rivers running through it. The towns are vibrant and clean and not crowded. There are small universities and colleges, city parks, and community events. People know each other. It feels safe. It’s nice.

The towns are either holding their own or growing. Beautification projects are underway. New businesses are opening. They don’t seem to be sinking with the economic woes that most other places are agonizing over. Although, of course, they have changed over the years, and unemployment exists, they seem to roll with the punches and move on. People retire in these towns. They entertain themselves. The livin' is easy!

But it’s not ideal. They get the worse of winter and the worse of summer weather. Right now, 96 degrees and almost 100% humidity. It's feels much worse than Indian Rocks Beach, Florida. Their winters are really cold. And there is no ocean, no beach, or mountain in sight and one must travel a long way to find those natural attractions. And let us not forget the threat of tornadoes.

I have always thought of Kansas as being in the middle of nowhere. And while that thought still persists, I really liked Kansas and I can see the appeal for those who live there. I would consider it.

Another of my high school girlfriends lives in Kansas and we spent most of our time sitting on the front porch doing what we do best. We talked. We sipped wine and we talked about our feelings, the kind of conversation that most men would prefer to avoid. We laughed and we cried a little.

Connie showed me some of the sights in Arkansas City, the cute boutiques and antique shops, the Land Rush Museum and the Flint Hills. We had lunch in a five table country restaurant in a five building town where a delicious chicken salad costs $4.50! We had dinner at a restaurant by the golf course where her husband spent much of his time. While sitting outside in one of the city parks one evening, we watched an improv show put on by college students.

From Arkansas City I drove three hours to Pittsburg, Kansas and enjoyed another evening with a friend, which involved another tour though a another nice little town. There was more porch sitting and intimate conversation. There was more wine too. I got to spend another night in another comfortable home in Kansas.

All in all, my experience with Kansas was excellent. Well, except for the flat hot lonely western part and that one other issue. I kept getting lost in Kansas. Without mountains or a large body of water for reference, I couldn’t seem to get my direction. Signage is poor. If I missed the ONE sign telling me to turn, I was in trouble. I saw many parts of Kansas twice. Not that I wanted to. But to get where I wanted to go, I must of turned around more than a dozen times, retracing my steps, looking for the road I should be on. I pulled over often to consult my maps, got lost even before leaving town, and should have had a compass. But I didn’t. And yes, I know what you are thinking. “What happened to the GPS?” I shoulda hooked it up, figured it out, turned it on. I didn’t. I haven’t.

Yesterday I drove through the Ozarks which was quite lovely. This part of the Ozarks had a landscape that was bigger than hills, but smaller than real mountains. It had character and lakes and wineries. It was green with real woods like the ones I remember playing in in northern Ohio.

I did an up close with the St. Louis Arch. I spent the night in a regular motel and am about to go get some of their continental breakfast and coffee. Then back on the road. I am heading to Cincinnati and will be spending time with a friend from back "home." We plan to have fun in Cincy. I heard they are celebrating Final Friday or something like that.

The road trip is going well. I am on the third leg. Days go by very fast. I am not lonely on my long drives. Responsibilities are few. I am NOT ready to go home.

Wheat fields, Cornfields, and Brick Roads

When I was leaving Indian Rocks Beach, Florida, the quip that went with my departure was that I was “getting out of Dodge.” Well currently that doesn't apply, because I am, quite literally, in Dodge. My room at the Bed and Breakfast looks right down on Boot Hill. Really! Last night, I heard a gunfight. Again, really. Well, a pretend gunfight, anyway, staged to entertain the tourist. I heard it while I was sitting on my porch sipping wine!

I can’t help thinking of Matt Dillon and Kitty Russell.

Dodge City, Kansas prospered because of the railroads that came through town and because of the buffalo that roamed in great number on the plains. Hunters and business men shot thousands and thousands of buffalo primarily for their hides and sent the hides east on the rail cars. When the buffalo were decimated by greed, cattle ranches were established to provide much desired beef for eastern buyers. Beef is still the major product of the area. And outside the inn it smells a little like cattle, if you know what I mean.

It is a lovely Inn, the Boot Hill Bed and Breakfast. I met Janie and Susan and while we had breakfast we chatted. They have both experienced divorce and our conversation was good, filled with understanding and admiration and knowing and interest. It was good for me.

Now ......

I will, literally, get out of Dodge. But before I do, I will share some thinking.

Someone asked me if I have had any inspired ideas while on this journey across the USA. Has there been an epithany? Future intention? Understanding? Or has a life plan developed? Have I found direction? Well, until yesterday, I had to admit there had been nothing of that sort. Not yet! But truthfully, that‘s because I haven’t had time to really think. I have been so caught up with the scenery and otherwise visiting with such wonderful family and friends that I have not really stopped to ponder about life back in “Dodge.”

But yesterday, while traveling across the plains which do not excite my senses, I figured it was a good time to get serious, think about post road trip life, and create a vision and a strategy. There wasn’t much to distract me. For most of the day, driving through south eastern Colorado and western Kansas, all I saw was fields of stuff jusy beginning to grow and cattle roaming. For hours upon hours, fields and cattle. The flat terrain was occasionally interrupted by a grassy swell. Rather dull topography, although being able to see for miles ahead had a certain appeal. Anyway, it was a fine day for conversation with me, myself and I.

At first, a cloud of gloom managed to hang over the car, keeping pace, flashing hazy pictures of divorce and my ex as well as my ex B and B and the stuff I forgot to take with me. Throw in a few wisps of financial concern, things not said, things said, and what coulda shoulda been and I felt a little bummed for a while. But serious thinking needed to start there. Then, my thinking shifted gears even if my car didn't. I thought about how lucky I am to have so many terrific friends. I thought about my town, my community and my cool little unusual home (talk about creative use of office space!) although I would still like to have a real kitchen to cook in. I'll have to get one one way or another. I thought about this road trip and living a dream and about how far I have come both geographically and figuratively. I pictured a "perfect" life. But what I have, for the most part, has been really good. I am a mom and an artist. A traveler and a writer. I am woman , hear me roar!!!

A change in attitude with a change in latitude. A change in attitude changes ones reality! Think good thoughts as much as possible. Forgive, forget, and enjoy life. All that.....

I thought about how I would like to find a little romance (yeah, why not?), and about doing more traveling and painting and reading. (Gosh, I need time to read, I can barely find time to read a brochure let alone a book.) The cloud of gloom lifted and disappeared and there I was thinking, “Life is pretty darn good.” I would not give up the life I am making for myself for the relationship that was.

My epithany wasn’t really something new, and I haven’t firmed up any plans, but it reminded me that I’m OK. I don’t need to make any life altering decisions while I am on the road. I think they can wait until I get home and have time to sit and contemplate my next direction and my next nest. I am OK as is. And I still have a ways to go.

Maybe another day in the tall grass and I will come up with more.

The plains are, well plain. I loved the desert and the coast and the mountains, but I do not love the plains. I cannot imagine living here, so far from everything else. It would take all day to go to see something other than what is right under your nose. I left the mountains a day behind and don’t expect to see an ocean for more days than that. It is as hot as Florida and, in the winter, I suspect, as cold as Minnesota. This is no place for me.

So when I get back home, I think I shall take the time to go other places because I can. Saint Augustine, Disney World, the Everglades, or Dade City! Tuscany, Iceland, Machu Pichu!

Then again, as Dorothy surmized, “There’s no place like home.” She figured that out after being in a tornado and wandering around OZ with mythical characters!

Last night, just to let you know, I camped by a reservoir in Pueblo, Colorado. The warm wind was strong and I found a place to set up my tent under a gnarly juniper tree. The earth was clay and sand and studded with cacti and rocks. The stars were plentiful. I slept well.

On the drive here I got lost twice, which isn’t easy to do, given that there isn't much to distract me and the scarcity of roads, but somehow, twice, I missed a turn. One road looks much like another here in Kansas, I don’t know what made me think I was going the wrong way. There were no signs of any kind to let me know what road I was on or even what direction I was going. At noon it's hard to tell these things. Although I turned around to go back after driving ten miles out of the way, I wasn’t altogether sure I was even heading the wrong way in the first place, but turns out I was. Good thing I choose to go back and check or I would have been traveling south instead of east. I could of been in New Mexico tonight!

Denver

Rain, pretty much every day for the last five days. But it doesn’t fall till late afternoon so it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

The drive down the mountains, although chilly and wet, was smooth on Interstate 40. I stopped in Georgetown, a small historic mining turned tourist town. It was another charming little place in the mountains, where if it weren’t for winter, would be a lovely place to live. I bought some amaretto fudge at a candy shop, and a couple bottles of wine at a little grocery. This would be my last stop in the mountains. After Georgetown, I coasted to Denver.

I am staying with friends. Susan and I have been best of friends since fourth grade in Northfield, Ohio. And we sure can talk. So that is what we spend a lot of time doing. I can share just about any thoughts with Susan knowing that she will listen with a good heart, know what I mean even if I don’t say it right, be supportive and loving. The best part is we laugh a lot. Together, we get it!

Friday, along with Susan’s sister, we went downtown see a 1960’s poster display at the DAM (Denver Art Museum). The Hippie, Haight Ashbury, flower child, Grateful Dead, LSD, Psychedelic, make love not war, era. Our era. Apparently we missed a lot of the stuff that went on at the Fillmore Theatre in San Francisco. Too busy being conventional back in the midwest. We briefly explored the rest of the museum, not quite knowing what to make of the modern art collection. For example: There was this gigantic yellow canvas with a red foot painted on it that had us curious about the reason it was even hanging in the museum? Who would choose that piece? Why? What does it mean? We didn’t get it.

I took the opportunity the next day (Susan was at work.) to get the dirty dusty car and my clothes organized and washed. It had to be done. And write blog words. And then I relaxed a little, watched reruns of “Married with Kids,” and chatted with Susan’s husband, Ron.

Next day, a nice breakfast out, the botanical gardens and a drive on the narrow steep roads of Red Rock Canyon while navigating through the torrential afternoon rain. Then home for a much needed glass of wine and a delicious steak dinner.

A good night sleep tonight and then back on the road. Next destination is in Kansas. This post is short because, as I said, Susan and I sure can talk, and I would rather do that. Bye.

Rocky Mountain High

(Photos will be posted after I get to Denver. Check back.)

I spent a day and night in Salt Like City. The pampering promised at Wildflowers Bed and Breakfast wasn’t what I called pampering. It was nice, but nothing out of the ordinary. I think I did a better job at the Laughing Lizard and that was what I was expecting, or at least, wishing for. My expectations were too high.

SLC was as clean and as interesting as I remembered. It is a city easy to maneuver around in. Light traffic, orderly numbered streets, convenient parking. I was inspired by the Mormon Tabernacle and creed. If we could all live up to their principles for goodwill and concern for others, the do unto others as you would have them do unto you philosophy, the world would be a far better place, irregardless of religious faith.

Last night I camped in a manicured campground in the the foothills, surrounded by red cliffs. The location was unique. That was because a very short walk from camp, was a Wendy’s and a MacDonald's, but even better, a Mexican restaurant with a Margarita special and great nachos and salsa. I treated myself. I ordered a torta (Mexican sandwich) which I ate with relish at my table in an outside patio with a view of the mountains. And of course, I had the Margarita special! Ahhhhh…..

I woke early as usual and started the drive into the real mountains, The Rockies. My plan was to take it slow all the way to Denver. It wasn’t much of a plan. But…. “If I had a day I could give you, it would be a day just like today!”

It all goes by so fast! I started out on I-70 but quickly diverted onto another back road with hardly another soul on it. I wasn’t sure where it went, but I stopped often to take pictures and search for rocks. The trip was windy and slow.

I found a bypass that took me through Aspen, a place I cannot remember being before. I walked among the wealthy and classy, pass Gucci and Ralph Lauren and sandwich shops too rich for my blood. I bought a nice fleece jacket in a thrift shop which I immediately put on because it was getting really cold. I could imagine this village with snow. It must be magical and romantic. It is the sort of place that reminds me wealth can be a wonderful thing..

I continued on down the road less traveled, toward Leadville. Once on the road, there were no turns off and no where else to go except back where I started, and as I said once before, I hate going back over already traveled territory. I traversed steep roads first up, then down, with sharp turns and high cliffs and no guardrails for security. I learned to use the manual gears on the car. Don’t blink. The edge is just a couple of feet away. One wrong move and you careen down a 1000 foot slope to sure death. And yet, I loved the drive! Go figure. It was getting colder. I could see snow covered peaks when there was a rare opportunity to look away from the road. That’s why I stopped as often as a turnout permitted, just to look around and admire. Every turn, the wow factor presented itself again and again.

I drove on down Route 24 toward Independence Pass. At 12,800 feet, the snow covered most everything but the road. It was beautiful. The light rain that had been falling turned into snow. Oh my, it was something for this Florida girl to take in. In my fleece jacket I walked a trail in the snow, made a snowball and inhaled the scenery. When my ears started to freeze, I headed back to the car.

As I descended the mountain, the snow turned back into rain. Vehicles were few and far between. It was not a smooth road. But oh the scenery! Got the picture? Streams and meadows and mountains and Aspen woods.

I stopped in Leadville about 5:00PM for something to eat, my first meal of the day because there had been just too much to do, and frankly, other than pricey Aspen, no where to get a sandwich. No worry. I always have peanut butter and crackers on hand!

It was getting late and I had no idea where I was going to spend the night. I had planned on camping at one of the many National Forest Campgrounds but it was rainy and chilly, not conducive to a good camping experience. I drove on toward Vail expecting lodging. I didn’t know that Vail, Colorado wouldn’t have motels, not even a Super 8 or Holiday Inn. I drove on. At 6:30 and I still had no place to stay. It was gloomy and wet. I had been on the road 12 hours by now. I hooked backup with Interstate 70, but found no motels or one night lodging. I wasn’t too terribly concerned, but this was the latest I have ever driven without a plan. 7:00PM and still moving with no place to stay. Shadows were growing as the sun dropped behind the mountain peaks.

At 7:30 I headed into a town called Frisco. A newly contrived old town with the Frisco lodge, a Bed and Breakfast! There I stopped to inquire about a room. They assigned me room 5 on the second floor. Like the old hotel that it once was, the bathrooms were at the end of the hall shared by the seven rooms. Yes, they still do that in some places. The room was shabby chic in just the right way and I had an old window that opened and looked out onto Main street.

They had organic chocolates on the antique dresser and patch work quilts on the iron bed, ornate wall paper, flowered carpet, and Indian artifacts and photographs on the walls. I loved the room. Before settling in for the evening, I wondered around Frisco, which for the most part was closed up tight except for a few bistros and a bar. The room was $45 with breakfast. It was a perfect place. I felt wonderful and charmed to have found this place just when I needed it most.

I watched a John Denver Special on TV that filled up my senses like a night in the forest! How perfect was that. I didn’t want to go to sleep. It all goes by so fast. At that moment, I wished for nothing except what was, so wrapped up in the present that yesterday and tomorrow didn’t matter.

You know how you can walk into some places that just feel good. while others make you feel antsy. This is one of those places that just made me feel good. And they have too wifi too!

Usually mornings are my time to feel optimistic and upbeat but this evening was different. All in all, a very good day.

Tomorrow I will sleep late, and then go to see some friends of mine and maybe some that I don’t know.

Goodnight. Love ya.

PS: Since this wasn’t posted last night, I will tell you about breakfast. It was just the way I wanted it to be. Not so much the food, which was, by all accounts, hot and delicious, but the company, someone to talk to. There was Dave and his daughter, Grace, from Chicago on their way to their summer home in Utah. There was Jim, on a little getaway from Denver and there was Tony and Mark and Sarah. I am in no hurry to leave. I plan on checking out late and checking out the town. Then I will head to Denver, a hundred miles away.

Idaho, June 6

I stopped driving Saturday afternoon around 4:00 and set up my tent at Three Islands State Park, on the banks of the Snake River in Glenns Ferry, Idaho. There were rain clouds over the mountains, but I was betting that, just like the night before, they wouldn’t generate actual rain on the plain. I took a walk along the Oregon Trail and tried to imagine the pioneers at this very spot forging the Snake. Apparently it was a dangerous crossing and many didn’t make it. Some gave up and traveled a lot of extra miles south to find a safer crossing. They used the islands as stepping stones, but the last crossing proved to be the most dangerous. Glenn's ferry didn't come to be until many years later.

Looking at the expansive rugged landscape, I tried to imagine a three month trek in the early 1800’s in a small ox drawn covered 2’X4’X10’ wagon. The settlers traveled from Valley Forge, Pennsylvania to Oregon, a distance I can cover in one week in an air conditioned car with a cell phone at my side and MacDonald’s with restrooms and hamburgers conveniently located every so many miles. It amazes me how much has changed in a relatively short period of time.

I lost the rain bet. Big time! I didn’t even get to light the campfire. It helped that the park had a nice shelter house where I could read a few pages of Blue Highways, but for the most part I was sequestered in my car with the book and a flashlight, wondering if my little tent would leak. I slept in the car that night with a big pillow and my sleeping bag. It was OK, but I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.

On the following quiet Sunday morning I decided to exit the interstate and take a side trip to “The City of Rocks” in the southern Idaho desert. With a half a tank of gas I followed a wooden rustic sign that pointed me down a remote gravel road. Fifteen solitary and friendless miles and one hour later, there was another sign that pointed me down another dirt road with muddy ruts and various potholes filled with water that hid their true depth. I debated on whether or not it was wise to go further, what with my dwindling gas supply, gray skies and the desolate looking hills. But I’d already come this far and the sign said “2” (2 miles?) to the “city.” Have I mentioned my love of rocks and how they call to me? I went further. I didn’t see another car, person, or building. This was one of those tines when tandem travel sure beats solo. I was just a little worried. Seeing two lone male campers in the middle of nowhere did not help ease my trepidation.

I eventually stumbled into the City of Rocks. A misty rain added an eerie feeling. The city consisted of huge jutting monoliths that one could interpret to be elephants, buildings, arches or monsters. I think I saw an enormous sea turtle sitting atop a plateau. My gas was at a questionable level. I thought of turning back, but as I drove on I discovered more campers, families with children, and people on dirt bikes. Whew! I pushed on and found my way out of the park. It seemed that I entered through the back door of the preserve, the hard way, the long way, the one rarely used! Finding my way back to Interstate 84 was only a little easier. My map wasn’t much help. The roads didn’t seem to lead where the map indicated. My GPS wasn’t working. A two lane concrete road suddenly turned into a one lane blacktop with a lot of potholes and it just didn't seem that this was the right road. But it was, eventually meeting up with the interstate. I always wondered about those interstate exits in the middle of nowhere, that seemed to have no reason to be there. I am glad that this one was. I paid $3.68 at the only gas station for 80 miles. I saw, but probably also missed, a lot of breathtaking scenery while I was navigating the ruts and potholes. Personally, I don't think the "City" was worth the hours it took to get in and out (much like driving into Phoenix or Houston.)

I arrived in Ogden after a long drive down a boring rainy interstate. The skies were gray once again. I opted for a cheap motel instead of the tent, still lying damp in the back seat of my car.

I have called ahead to reserve a room at a bed and breakfast in Salt Lake City. Their web site said something about being pampered. I’m ready.

Gone from Seattle

There was a heat wave in Seattle while I was there, 90 degrees, sunny and hot! Set a June record. This came after a winter of snow that Seattle hadn’t seen in 50 years! I heard on the news that Florida’s recent rains have finally ended the long long drought. Changing weather patterns, global warming, who knows what to expect?

The first night out after staying with my daughter was sad. I missed them. I wanted to go back and stay longer, but by evening I was already a day away. I know they have their own life to live, and a good one, at that, but I wish I could be more a part of it. But we live so far from each other. I am feeling particularly lonely tonight.

I’d like a hand to hold.

This is a new sort of feeling. Sad for a different reason. A different sort of loneliness. My tears are like my granddaughter’s, without real reason, to deal with fabricated anxiety, or just because.

I am sitting in a barely acceptable motel room maybe that’s part of it, in what feels like to me the middle of nowhere, La Grande, Oregon. La Grande sits at the foot hills of the Blue Mountains along interstate 84.

I checked out four other accommodations in town, but the one I am in was the best of the lot. At the first, the manager assured me that I could open the window for fresh air, but would probably want to close it at night so that I wouldn’t be bothered by the trains going past. At the second motel I looked at a room that had a wall to wall bed in a really tiny room that I politely turned down. At the third, I was shown a room that had a kitchen sink in the corner and badly stained carpeting. The fourth had a tiny cement block shower. I ended up at a Travelodge.

I didn’t want to camp tonight even though that was the original plan I had. I stopped at a State Park, along the Oregon Trail thinking I would camp, but the campground was right next to the interstate. Somehow listening to traffic in the middle of the night spoils the camping experience so I drove on. The sky ahead looked ominous, like rain. I saw a large streak of lightening cross the sky down the road ahead that cut through a pass between the mountains. I was too tired too deal with bad weather or more driving.

I watched the movie Michael on TV. When the dog died (and was later revived) and when Michael the angel at the end brought the lovers back together it made me cry movie tears. Felt good!

I ate two little brownie cupcakes my daughter packed in my goody box. I’m glad I had them. Comfort food!

I don’t know where I will be tomorrow night, but I hope I’ll know enough to stop when I get there. “Where I will end up only heavens knows.” I still feel like fate has taken over my life on the road, guiding me safely on my way. Except for the planned visits I am still going where I am nudged.

I miss the ocean. I hope to find a good feeling in the mountains. I am not ready to head toward home. I don’t even want to go east. But I am. I have a lot of miles between me and home but only a few between me and my past. I haven’t really slowed down yet, but I am working on it. I do miss my friends, though.

Next morning.

The rain never came. Skies are clear, both literally and figuratively.

June 3, 2009

I’ve been hanging out in Seattle for a few days staying at my daughter’s house, enjoying the company. My 3 year old grand baby is here and the cute factor is phenomenal! I am taking sort of a little travel break being on somewhat familiar turf here, having been to Seattle several times in my life and three times since Jill and Matt moved here last July. In fact, Seattle is where I got married 40 years ago, and pretty much where I was when the final divorce decree was signed last July. Coincidental, don’t you think, since I lived in Ohio before the marriage, and in Florida for the most part afterward! Last July I reunited with three high school girlfriends in Seattle for a getaway, a vacation planned long before the divorce was planned. (?) And my second grandchild will be born here in November. Consequently, Seattle will always hold a mixed bag of very special memories for me. Although I can’t say that I am feeling particularly nostalgic at the moment. Mental overload protection!

The drive from the coast to Portland was routine until I rounded a corner and saw the MOUNTAIN. Snow covered Mt Rainier, although still 100 miles away, rises above the clouds towering over the area with majestic dominion. Awesome! I connected with Interstate 5 which travels over Portland offering a bird’s eye view of the city in all its cement and glass wonder. Overlapping highways, the Ferris wheel, the port, houseboats, traffic, and a clear view of topless Mt. St. Helens.

To get to the city I drove through several tsunami hazard zones, or so the signs warned me. After having watched with fascination not so long ago, the news clips about the tsunami overseas where, on a perfectly beautiful day, the sea suddenly, without warning, rose up and swallowed people and homes and most of a small town. Thinking about that causes me to drive the shore in the zone with caution and speculation. I know the chances are extremely small that a big wave will overtake me, nevertheless, the thought had occurred.

I am not sight seeing here in Seattle, nor lounging, I am doing chore stuff. Washing clothes, paying bills, getting an oil change and rotating tires (The car tasks I would have normally left to the man in the family, but must now do that sort of stuff, in fact all sorts of stuff, on my own. Oh well……)

Mostly I am playing with my granddaughter, pretend games. We make a mess with tiny toy parts and itty bitty plastic people. Then I clean it up with some itty bitty help from the perpetrator of most of the mess.

The weather is not what one expects in Seattle. It has been sunny and hot. We have opened the windows in an attempt to cool the house with an itty bitty breeze. The sun comes up at a ridiculously early hour of the morning, (sometime before 5:00 because I am awake then and it is already bright outside) so that even after I lay lazily in bed long after waking, and I finally get up, the clock tells me it isn’t even 6:oo AM yet! Long days, short nights.

No one else is up that early, so I make coffee, and cut myself a piece of apple pie for breakfast. This beats camping.


Geographically, Seattle feels like the half way point of my journey, although, chronologically it is not. I am about the same distance through my thinking deep thoughts, half way, about! I have choices to make about life, and even if I make no changes, I am making choices. One cannot avoid choices. Impossible. Last year I made the biggest choice of my life when I decided to go for a life on my own. From here on out, the choices should be simpler, wouldn’t you think?

I have already traveled a lot of new and different roads.
June 3, 2009 (Just to offer a reference to time)

I’ve been in Seattle for a few days staying at my daughter’s house, enjoying the company. My 3 year old grand baby is here and the cute factor is phenomenal! I am taking sort of a little travel break being on somewhat familiar turf here, having been to Seattle several times already in past years and three times since Jill and Matt moved here last July. In fact, Seattle is where I got married 40 years ago, and pretty much where I was when the final divorce decree was signed. Coincidental, don’t you think, since I lived in Ohio before the marriage and in Florida for the most part after! Last July I reunited with three high school girlfriends in Seattle for a get a way and my second grandchild will be born here in November. Consequently, Seattle will always hold a mixed bag of very special memories for me. Although I can’t say that I am feeling particularly nostalgic at the moment. ?

The drive from the coast to Portland was uneventful until I rounded a corner and saw the MOUNTAIN. Snow covered Mt Rainier rises above the clouds towering over the area with majestic dominion. And Interstate 5 travels over Portland offering a bird’s eye view of the city in all its wonder. Overlapping highways, the Ferris wheel, the port, the city buildings, and a clear view of topless Mt. St. Helens.

To get here I drove through several Tsunami Hazard Zones, or so the signs warned me. After having watched with fascination not so long ago the news clips about the Tsunami overseas where, on a perfectly beautiful day, the sea suddenly, without warning rose up and swallowed people and homes and most of a small town. Thinking about that causes me to drive the shore in the zone with caution and speculation. I know the chances are extremely small that a big wave will overtake me, nevertheless, the thought has occurred.

I am not sight seeing here, nor lounging, I am doing chore stuff. Washing clothes, paying bills, getting an oil change and rotating tires (The car tasks I would have normally left to the man in the family, but must now do that sort of stuff, in fact all sort of stuff, on my own. Oh sigh……

Mostly I am playing with my granddaughter, pretend games. We make a mess with tiny toy parts and itty bitty plastic people. Then I clean it up with some itty bitty help from the perpetrator of most of the mess.

The weather is not what one expects in Seattle. It has been sunny and hot. We have opened the windows in an attempt to cool the house with an itty bitty breeze. The sun comes up at a ridiculously early hour of the morning, (sometime before 5:00 because I am awake then and it is already up) so that even after I lay lazily in bed long after waking, and I finally get up, the clock tells me it isn’t even 6:oo AM yet!

No one else is up, so I make coffee, and cut myself a piece of apple pie for breakfast. This beats camping.


Geographically, Seattle feels like the half way point of my journey, although, chronologically it is not. I am about the same distance through my thinking deep thoughts, about half way! I have choices to make about life, and even if I make no changes, I am making choices. One cannot avoid choices. Impossible. Last year I made the biggest choice of my life when I decided to go for a life on my own. From here on out, the choices should be simpler, wouldn’t you think?

I have already traveled new and different roads. At this point I have driven a variety of roads; tree lined and treeless, flat and steep, straight and windy, smooth and rough with a few surprises, 15 laned and one laned, through deserts and beside oceans, lonely and congested with bumper to bumper traffic, simple and confusing. Just like life’s paths and byways. Only more consolidated!

While I have been gone, two people I care about have died back home. My ex father-in-law and my Aunt Eleanor. They had both lived long lives, but it is still sad and I feel bad that I wasn’t around to just be there, although I am glad I was there for them during the living years, on good terms, and with love. Still…… My Aunt’s death marks the end of an era in our family, promoting me and my peer cousins to the oldest generation, the grand folks, the old folks!!! When my mother died, I felt it! These deaths seal it.

At this point I have driven a variety of roads; tree lined and treeless, flat and steep, straight and windy, smooth and rough with a few surprises, 15 laned and one laned, through deserts and beside oceans, lonely and congested with bumper to bumper traffic, simple and confusing. Just like life’s paths and byways. Only more consolidated!

I am thankful for the smooth going and ready to deal with the rough.

Tomorrow, I head toward Denver, Colorado. I will just keep on keeping on!

While I have been gone, two people I care about have died back home. My ex father-in-law and my Aunt Eleanor. They had both lived long lives, but it is still sad and I feel bad that I wasn’t around to just be there, although I am glad I was there for them during the living years, on good terms, and with love. Still…… My Aunt’s death marks the end of an era in my family, promoting me and my peer cousins to the oldest living generation, the grand folks, the old folks!!! When my mother died, I felt it! Aunt Eleanor's finalizes it.

I am thankful for the smooth going and ready to deal with the rough.