8-6-2016 MEADOW VISTA, CA

It is out of character for us to stay but one night at a park but Hawthorne is familiar to us and has been explored to some extent.  It is a convenient stopping point though, so as not to drive too far in a day.  We tend to keep our travel legs in the 300 mile range or ideally, a little less.  So we pulled in, left the Jeep in hook-up mode and turned off the key, warmed up dinner and settled down for the night.

B2 at Whiskey Flats

There are millions more stars here than other places in the universe!  Staring upward in the dark of night is a beautiful, magical, mystical experience.  How can it be that the silvery smudge that is the Milky Way is made up of trillions upon trillions of individual heavenly bodies?  This is mind-boggling, even to a person such as me who has LBP (Low Boggle Point).  In a short time, I saw four shooting stars, three that started on the top and shot down to the edge and one that shot from one edge all the way over the top and down to the other edge.  Simply fantastic and amazing!

Besides the beauty in the sky, there is the peaceful, quiet drive through the ranchland where wild burros, horses and cattle meander.  Walker Lake, north of Hawthorne, is not what it was but it is still immense.  In prehistoric times, Walker Lake was one small part of Pleistocene Lahontan Lake which covered most of Nevada.  Over the millenia, the waters receded (Global warming, don’tchaknow.) but Walker Lake remains, fairly secure as a “terminal lake” because it does not feed any other streams or rivers.  It is home to about 360,000 cutthroat trout which would be endangered if we lived up here!

This leg of the trip involves traveling through the Donner Pass, home of Chuck Roast, Steak Diane and Quiche Lorraine and finger food, among many other delicacies.  B2 is performing like a champ and now we are on the downslope, on approach to Meadow Vista, home town of our friends of 45 years, Fritz and Pal.  Over the next few days, fun and shenanigans are anticipated, many of them probably legal.

Our friends’ home is in a quiet wooded area, except for the roosters who like to awaken everyone at dawn with persistent crowing and the goats who answer them.  In this idyllic setting, a mamma deer and her two Bambis live close by and wander about unafraid. 

Future venison on the hoof!  Yum!

Mamma is graceful, like poetry in motion, but the white-spotted babies scamper around and play like puppies.

Fritz and Pal had a lot of great activities lined up for us including hours of playtime on the pickleball court.  At first, I didn’t play because of wrist and shoulder pain but ultimately, it is impossible to stay away.  Play through the pain, right?  The pickleball folks here are really friendly and fun and accepted Rob and me into the group as if they had known us forever.   Happily, they had arranged to have a picnic at the Rod and Gun Club which sits in a pretty park on Lake Combie.  Everyone brought their coolers filled with sandwiches and cold beer, a big fat, sweet, juicy watermelon (Can’t have a picnic without a watermelon!) and kayaks! 

Lake Combie

So if pickleball isn’t enough exercise there is always an afternoon of kayaking!  We were fortunate that friends loaned us kayaks for a couple of days and paddling around in the blue water surrounded by the tall pines was tranquilizing and nearly hypnotic.  Once is one time too few, of course, and so the following day, there was more pickleball and kayaking, this time on Lake Rollins.  There are ducks, geese, cormorants and ospreys and I searched the trees for eagles which live here but they were elusive.  We were gourmeted and beered up and exercised for three days and it was quite a grand time.

Lake Rollins

Worrisome was the problem B2 had with the 20 amp electrical supply line at the house.  Ultimately, we found that no power was getting through to run the refrigerator, our only goal.  Troubleshooting one idea at a time, at last we figured it out.  The beast simply did not like such a long cord, so we shortened and rerouted it and bazinga, power!  “Resistence is not futile, it’s voltage divided by current.”

INTRODUCTION - AUGUST 2016 ON THE ROAD

“Moss grows bad on a rollin’ stone,” as the song goes, and we’re no fan of moss so we’re rollin!’  I know some of you are probably wondering why anyone would want to head north from the pleasant 110F temperatures of southern Nevada.  Especially with the breezes… similar to a blast furnace.

The simple answer is that we have been invited to party in Oregon and Washington with our snowbird pickleball friends and ultimately, end up at the “Elvis Festival” in Bellingham.  Well, who can say, “no,” to that:  several weeks of party and an “Elvis Festival?”  We’ve got this.

We acquired a new beast in February of this year, flying up to Boise, Idaho, taking delivery and driving it back to the homestead.  For some time, there were headaches and teething problems and the last six months have been interlaced with multiple trips to the Las Vegas Ford truck shop and Fleetwood.  We believe that the serious issues have now been resolved and the rest is small potatoes.  We know how to tighten screws, oil squeeks and adjust door knobs.  One issue that Rob resolved independent of Ford involved streamlining the speed-gear-rpm ratios.  He studied and searched on the net for hours, days and sleepless nights.  Finally, Five Star website read, “Does your truck downshift and scream if it even looks at a hill?  We can fix that!”  For a few hundred dollars, they sent a hand-held computer about the size of a pack of cigarettes with a software program installed in it.  Working with the geeks, Rob downloaded the software into the beast’s computer.  Still not satisfied, Rob told them what he wanted.  They wrote a new program, sent it to Rob’s email, he downloaded it to the hand-held and installed it.  Bazinga!  B2 purrs like a kitten and my gear head is, or will be shortly, a “happy camper.”

As you can see, the world is overpopulated

Now, with the bugs worked out and having moved all of our “stuff” from the old bins in Bee to the new bins in B2 (or Bee-Too?), the time grew nigh to pack up the clothes, food, beer and olives.  Shooting for an 11 o’clock departure this morning, at 11:30 it was final:  whatever isn’t in the beast at this point isn’t going along.  We were sure to remember sweaters, hat and mittens, however, so as to prevent “Desert Rat Frost Bite,” it being “Summer” in the PacNW, after all.

5PM, just in time for the martini hour!

First stop:  An rv park named Whiskey Flats (what else?) in Hawthorne, central Nevada.  So far the drive has been uneventful, smooth, a bit gusty, fairly barren and unoccupied.  Here and there, the ghostly remnants of abandoned, small wooden mining town shacks barely stand, at last weatherworn and beaten down by the unforgiving desert elements.  There are a few small active towns, Goldfield and Tonopah, and of course a sprinkling of whorehouses here and there, such as Alien 51 Cathouse.  The sign read, “Brothel, Hot Sauce and Souvenirs.”  One does wonder if any of the souvenirs require medical treatment.  Tonopah featured one hotel called Humbug Flats, the Shady Lady B & B and the Bug Bar.  In this part of the rugged Wild West, metrosexual city slickers need not apply.

So we are off to the PacNW, where humans are wet and cold and fish are nervous!  Stay tuned!

4-11-2016 Flagstaff, AZ

The scenery changed from brambles, brush and purple snow caps to red rock formations and now, 300 miles later, we are in Flagstaff, Arizona, one of our favorite places.  There is something for everybody, here.  It’s a college town, there is sunny heat, snow, a ski area, observatory, old town, a 2 to 3-hour long Fourth of July Parade and park festivities.  Oh, and it rains everyday.  Not for long, but every day.  That isn’t the good news, fyi.

Lore has it that the name “Flagstaff” developed over time based upon the stripping and whittling of a ponderosa pine to be used as a flagpole to display the US flag for the 100^th anniversary of our country on July 4, 1876.  Before this, the town was named Antelope Springs and Old Town.  It was settled on an old dirt road that lead to California and the main industries were timber and ranching.  The railroad was laid through the town and that and Route 66 put Flagstaff permanently on the map.  It is often called the “City of Seven Wonders” based upon surrounding forests, high peaks, canyons and a huge crater.  The Lowell Observatory houses the Clark Telescope.  Pluto was discovered and the moon was mapped for the Apollo missions using this telescope.  (Mickey was discovered after that.) 

Weatherford Hotel with pine cone

In 1900, John Weatherford opened the Weatherford Hotel, a historical landmark in Flagstaff.  It has been visited over the decades by the famous and the infamous, politicians to gunslingers, and is still open for business. 

You know how they lower the ball on New Year’s Eve at midnight in NYC?  Not to be outdone, in 1999, the townsfolk began the tradition of “Lowering the Pine Cone” from the roof of the Weatherford Hotel at midnight on New Year’s Eve.  We attended this event last year, agreeing that, whereas Time Square in NYC on New Year’s Eve may easily be left off the bucket list, one may not go through an entire lifetime without witnessing the “Lowering of the Pine Cone.”

"Ten... nine... eight... Happy New Year!"

New Year's Eve in Flagstaff

Finally, after having visited Flagstaff at least a half dozen times, we made it to Black Bart’s Steakhouse, Saloon and Musical Revue!  Yes, they were open, a miracle!  They serve great lamb, beef steaks and cold brews and the wait staff sings and entertains, backed up by the talented piano player.  We were seated near the huge log-burning fireplace and the evening was a really unique, cozy experience.

My Beloved had gone long enough without a pizza and was therefore on a mission.  It ended happily at Fat Olives, a seriously authentic Italian restaurant.  The centerpiece is the wood-fired oven, built in Italy by a fifth-generation Italian family from stones obtained in part from Mount Vesuvius. 

Fat Olives wood fired oven from Italy

The restaurant’s claim to fame is the certifications it carries based upon the strictest Italian standards, from the quality of the olive oil to the fineness of the flour used to make breads and crusts.  The award-winning chef makes breads, dough and cheeses fresh every morning, including mozzarella de buffala.  My quest to try unusual things I’ve never had before was once again a success.  My salad included wood-fire roasted Italian olives and artichoke hearts.  Roasted olives?  Delicious!  Lunchtime was a bonanza for us!

Wood fired pizza!

We are on our way home, now, Tuesday April 12^th.  Our internal homing devices know the way to and from Flagstaff, Arizona with our eyes closed.  What a wonderful adventure this has been.  Now, let’s see what we can dream up next!

4-9-2016 Durango, CO

Gas up here in the heartland for $1.70/gallon.  Other trivia:  signs along the highways read, “Keep Kansas Clean Next 2 Miles,” “Range Burning Area Do Not Drive Into Dense Smoke,” “Big Game Hunting Here, Elk Deer Bear Antelope” and in Colorado, “Marijuana for Sale.”  The expansive ranges are populated with cattle, horses, deer and antelope.  While cruising along at 75 mph, I spotted a steer that was on the wrong side of the fence and apparently on a singular mission to cross the highway.  I braked to a sudden and complete stop, tossing books, maps, phones, backpack and water bottles onto the cockpit floor.  (“Good brakes,” I’m thinking.)  The animal stood there looking at us, lower jaw chewing side-to-side, “What?!”  “Hey, wherever you want to go, Mr. 1,000 Lb. Steer (except through the radiator)!”  Slowly, I inched around him and we were back on our way.

My imagination paints a picture of a wagon pulled by oxen crossing these desolate ranges irregular with ditches, troughs and mud, criss-crossed by streams and tangles of brambles, bushes and pickers. You are the wife in a dirt-length dress and bonnet, sitting in the wagon (no a/c) with four tots and an infant and pregnant, being eyeballed by coyotes, rattlers and  restless, territorial warriors who think your scalp would make a nice tepee decoration. 

The wagon crests a hill, as we do now, and blue mountains topped with snow appear on the horizon.  She’s thinking what I would have been thinking, “Oh shit, what fresh new Hell is this?  Hey honey, why don’t we just stop here, till up the dirt a little bit, throw some water on a few seeds and see what happens?”  And he’s thinking, “Like, I know, right?”

Well I don’t know how the pioneers did it but the BFT navigated the paved highway nicely through the Wolf Creek National Forest in the rain and slushy snow and just before Pagosa Springs, up over the Continental Divide at Wolf Creek Pass (el. 10,850 ft.). 

It was a long slog but it didn’t seem like it because of the breathtaking beauty;  alpine meadows populated with herds of antelope and mule deer, burros, horses and cattle, towering snowy peaks covered with tall green fluffy conifers and bare skinny aspens, high icy waterfalls tumbling into deep canyons.  I don’t know how the folks manage.  I look at the isolated wilderness homes and my thought is, “Where’s Albertson’s?”  Big chalet-like homes have a marvelous view through windows up to the sharp peaked roofs and I ask myself, “Who cleans it?”

Spring has sprung in Durango. 

Daffodils are popping up and the trees are heavy with blossoms.  People who think that 60F is actually warm are running around in shorts and t-shirts.  It was a nice day to visit the State Fishery but it was closed. 

Rob with fish & chips
on the hoof

Fish apparently take weekends off.  Plaques informed us that in the wild, only 10% of rainbow and cutthroat trout survive to adulthood.  In the fishery, however, 95% make it and 1.4 million are turned loose into the lakes and rivers per year.  All I know is they are beautiful (on the plate next to my rice pilaf).

Rob in the BFT at the State Hatchery

We had lunch at the Diamond Belle Saloon in the Strater Hotel (estab. 1887) on Main Street.  It’s a stately structure, the centerpiece of Durango.  Louis L’Amour always stayed in room 222 and here he wrote several of his novels.  The original saloon was sold off for awhile to other businesses.  Earl Barker wanted to restore it but his Dad said he’d never make a dime.  So one time when Dad went out of town, Earl and a friend got busy.  Dad came home and saw what a great success it was and bragged that it was his idea all along.  Asshole. 

The splendid Strater Hotel

The building is a living piece of art and the rooms, parlor and saloon are filled with beautiful antiques of all kinds. 

At the bar in the
Diamond Belle

The stunning back bar was found in an old barn and restored.  The ragtime piano tinkles and there is a feeling of old west historic romance here.  The antiquity ends, however, with the pretty barmaids who are younger than my travel shampoo bottle.

Ashley and Deanna serve victuals
in the Diamond Belle Saloon

The bartender was born a year after Reagan became President.  My goodness.   You can reach out and touch both ends of time here in Durango, Colorado.

4-7-2016 TOPEKA, KS

Yes, sometimes the wind is fierce in our little town of Pahrump, blowing up quite a dust storm.  But that is just now and again, and nothing like the stubborn, severe, unforgiving wind in the plains states we are crossing.  There are whitecaps on the little ponds on the farm land and even the low-profile BFT is bouncing left and right on the highway like a ping pong ball.  No inattention nor casual grip allowed behind the wheel.  The man at the toll booth on the KS turnpike told us it is almost always this way, here.  It is, honestly, a little exhausting.

Copper plate and looking up at the dome

The KS Capitol Building, which was closed last time we were here in Topeka, is an elusive little rascal but we finally chalked up our 40^th capitol.The original structure was completed in 1903.  Striking by its abundance is the copper used to plate much of the ornamentation on the banisters, edge moldings and dome.  One nice lady in the Governor’s office showed us around a bit and said that there are people polishing the copper around the clock.  The floors are shiny marble and sparkle with the reflection of thousands of lights in the many chandeliers. 

Copper staircases

A fifteen-years-long (and $300 million) restoration project has just been completed.  During the work on the ceilings, the layers of boring white paint were chipping off and workmen came to realize that beneath the paint there were beautiful murals and decorative leafing.  The restoration took a sudden twist and the original ceiling art was saved. 

Ceiling murals that were found under layers of paint

Sam Brownback, a nice conservative Republican, was in the US Congress for a few terms but didn’t run again because he is one of the rare few who believes in term limits and actually walks the walk.  He returned home and became the Governor of KS in 2010.  We stopped in to say, “hello,” to good ol’ Uncle Sam but he was busy and we thought better of interrupting him.  We told his secretary, Zoey, to say, “Hi!” from Rob and Lindy from Nevada.

One claim to fame in Kansas is the monumental Supreme Court decision in the Brown vs. Board of Education case and you can read about it everywhere.  The Chief Counsel in this case was Thurgood Marshall, who went on to become a well-known SC Justice.  Oliver Brown from Topeka was one of the plaintiffs, although many states joined forces in this case.  The decision made the practice of school segregation based upon skin color unlawful, for once and for all.  The year was 1954, remarkably 89 years after the Civil War ended and the 14^th Amendment abolishing slavery was added to the Constitution.  The wheels of the human mind turn slowly, yes?

The restaurant de jour in Topeka was The Blind Tiger.  John Dean, the bräumeister, diligently creates tasty beers brewed right here on the premises.  A glass of cold raw wheat ale nicely washes down slabs of bbq ribs or charbroiled steaks in the highly-polished-wood bar room.  This restaurant was rated # 2 out of more than 200 in the city.  Next time you pass through Topeka, eat here!

We have arrived in Garden City, KS for a quick overnight stay.  Tomorrow we are on to Durango and a beautiful drive through Colorado!

4-5-2016 AMES, IA

The Kraus family festivities, which spanned 7 days for this girl, have drawn to a close.  It began and ended with bratwurst, sauerkraut and beer, and in between were sprinkled a lot of funny stories, jibing and politically incorrect, irreverent, occasionally x-rated razz-ma-taz.  Thank goodness for Confession!

Standing from L:  Swede, Linda, Bootsie, Bill, Carol, Larry, Beep,
 Dixie, Karen, Rob, Ray, George
Sitting from L:  Captain Bill, Patty, Lindy

The Midwest weather was typically all over the map:  sun, clouds, freezing temperatures and as we left town today, cold wind, rain, slushy snow and a bit of sleet.  The locals shrug and deal with it, running around in shirt sleeves.  “Hey, it’s April.  It’s supposed to be warm.  We can’t help it if it’s snowing!” 

Lindy on a side trip to Stillwater, MN
"So this is April in Minnesota..."

Rob and I personally miss sunny and dry.  Speaking of weather, our first stop on the return leg of this trip is Ames, Iowa.  Of note, the team name at Iowa State is “Cyclones.”  Fortunately, we are passing through at, shall we say, a “non-Cyclone” time of year.  Snowflakes, OK.  Cyclones not so much.

I pointed out to Spouse, “Gee, we bought a truck and drove 4,100 miles to retrieve 24 cents worth of junk from the farm!”  Ultimately, a worthy endeavor.  In the back bed, the precious cargo includes my childhood snow sled, the baton my big brother Bill gave me for my birthday, my brothers’ bows and arrows and hockey sticks, a wheel from our wooden buggy, our red Radio Flyer wagon and the family’s first record player.  We found on the spindle two little yellow plastic records, “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” and “I Taut I Taw A Puddy-Tat.”  Absolutely worthless and meaningless throwaways to some.  For me, these are little scraps of my childhood and gold-plated playtime with my brothers and sisters, things without which my story line would be incomplete.  These artifacts must have plucked a few of my brother Larry’s strings because, toward the end of the week end, more boxes materialized.  Now my treasures include my Dad’s prayer book and pictures of Gramma and Grampa Voitik and Great Aunt Kate.  I return home the richer.

Among the artifacts is an old football.  My big brother Dick (aka “George,” another long story) had a country paper route, as all my brothers did at one time or another.  In the Fall, the leaves on the two big maples in the front yard turned orange and red.  After school, in the late afternoon, we Three Little Kids would sit on the front stoop tossing the football from hand-to-hand and watch for Dick to come riding his bike toward home on the last leg of his paper route. 

The 3 Little Kids:  Larry, Lin and Mar

Dick doing the paper route accounting, 1959

When he turned into the yard, we’d yap like puppies until he would play football with us in the chill wind with the colorful leaves flying about.  We’d scream and giggle because he would run the length of the “field (the front yard)” with three little rats clinging to his legs trying to tackle him.  It was impossible.  He was just too big! 

Lindy, Larry and Marlene,
The Three Little Kids

Naturally, when we had the ball, he could gather all of us up in one grab and that was the end of those downs!  We played until the sun, or we, dropped.  What a good sport my big brother was!  Yes, that football will stay with me.

On the ISU campus, the Iowa House, now a bed and breakfast, is on the Historic Register.  It was originally the Delta Chi Frat House built in 1924.  What a gorgeous residence!  I’m pretty sure that if I had lived in a place like this when I was in college,

Iowa House

party-time would have far outweighed diploma-time.  There is a lot of dark wood, a beautiful fireplace, sofas and other beautiful furniture in the drawing room.  We are on the third floor in the “loft,” which has rafters and a spiral staircase up to a second bedroom. 

Rob in the loft room at Iowa House

Our room is furnished with an old secretary that could not be used because it was in disrepair.  The youngster (an ISU student) furnished us with screwdrivers and a bucket of screws and we made it functional.

Engineers fix the secretary

Tonight we ate where the locals eat:  The Hickory Park Restaurant Company.  This restaurant began 46 years ago and it is huge, with the capability of serving 450 guests at a whack.  The chefs smoke about 20,000 lb. of pork, chicken, turkey and beef per week.  Just amazing, delicious and a fantastic way to end our day in Cyclone Alley.

3-28-2016 DES MOINES, IA

A lot of people don’t think 460 miles is a long way to drive in a day.  Rob and I are not two of those.  We like to stop on a whim to look around and see interesting things.  Today was not such a day.  We took turns driving twice each.  (Fortunately, we have a hotspot on Rob’s phone so I was able to answer lots of letters and continue the fun of writing, editing and doing the photo work that the blog requires.)  The highways and byways pass many a farm equipped with several silos; rivers, small lakes and occasionally, big ones are scattered generously everywhere, thawed and rippling.  This area is no stranger to wind and windmills in the fields pump water into the stock tanks for the thirsty range animals.  I thought Nebraska was called, “The Cornhusker State,” but frequently, I see, “The Windmill State.”  Hmmm.  The wide open spaces are harvested and manicured awaiting the upcoming planting season.  Flocks of wild turkeys wander around the mowed fields.  Geese and ducks have made the flight back for the warm season and cruise around on the river banks.  Baby rodents are hiding from hawks and vultures soaring in the wind.  Broad leafed trees are sprouting buds.  Ranges are dotted with livestock and one hapless cow who had her head, ears and tag tangled in the fence.  Ah, Spring has sprung in the Heartland.

We two at Hessen Haus

We arrived in Des Moines late in the afternoon just in time for the cocktail hour.  We weren’t sure about finding an interesting place to eat but Rob surfed around and hit our version of a jackpot.  He found the Hessen Haus and we were off like a prom dress!  The Hessen Haus used to be a bus garage and it is, therefore, long and tall.  The finishings are beautiful rich wood, lights and glass.  My beloved filled his requirement for wienerschnitzel while I took the waitress’s recommendation of a pork chop smothered in mushrooms and white wine and cheese sauce.  The food was delicious and the German beer was ice cold and refreshing.  We really enjoyed the evening then fell fast asleep after a rather long day.

Lindy at Hessen Haus

The next leg of this trip will be spent with the Kraus clan.  More to come!

3-27-2016 OGALLALA, NE

The roads heading east from Rifle were clean and dry meandering through the rocky canyons.  How they engineered these roads is a mystery to me, if not a miracle. 

There was a slow stretch where there had been a rock slide, as we had been warned by my brother Larry who had traveled out this way last month.  It has been cleared away by this time and the slowing of traffic to 50 was precautionary as the construction crews repair the concrete barriers.  (You know, those things that keep you from catapulting off the edge down 10,000 ft. into a canyon full of other skeletons.)  When we hit the Rockies around Denver, it was a pretty ride through beautiful snowy peaks demarcated by the timberline and streaked with many chairlifts and ski runs. 

Cruising along with the Colorado River

This is how my mind manufactures a picture of Colorado, but in fact, east of the Rockies, the state flattens out into expansive flat grassy plains.

Those plains continue to stretch on and on for hours into Nebraska.  Often, people will remark that driving through the plains states is deathly boring.  “The fly-over states,” they call it.  Like the only two places that are important are NYC and LA and you just fly over everything else?  I think not.  Traveling the east to west highway, you pass miles of fields that grow our wheat and corn and, scattered everywhere, all the John Deere farm equipment that maintain and cultivate these.  Tens of thousands of silos are filled with grain to feed what will become the juicy rib eyes on America’s plates.  A million trucks travel along the main commerce artery through the center of the country carrying goods to and fro.  How can driving across the heartland’s thoroughfare, America’s bread basket, be boring?  There is so much to see!  I am never bored!  (If you don’t count the 5 years of marriage to my ex.)  Especially when I am driving and the wind tries to blow the BFT into another lane occupied by a couple of tri-trailer semis that seem to move along by fishtailing.  In this part of the world, signs warn motorists of gusty winds and windsocks are not just indicators at airports.  They are mounted above the many gusty wind warning signs on the median strips and they stick straight out.

Ogallala (pronounced “oh-gah-LAH-lah”), Nebraska was our stop for this day.  Let’s say we did the hully gully to Ogallala (Say that three times fast!).  The word Ogallala is a rough derivation of Oglala, a band of Lakota Indians of the parent Sioux tribe that inhabited the area.  Ogallala was considered the end of the cattle-drive trail, where the cattle met their demise in one way or another.  We had a wonderful room here at the Stagecoach Inn.  I don’t know if the Wells Fargo stagecoach out front is the genuine article or not, it sorta looks like it. 

The room was amazingly down home with lace curtains and real furniture, a solid walnut dresser and a desk with brass handles on the drawers.  Hot waffles and biscuits and gravy for breakfast for my beloved made this a most pleasant stay indeed.

Off to Des Moines, Iowa.  A longish drive of 460 miles but we’ll switch off, make sandwiches and have fun!

Rob and the dirty BFT

3-26-2016 RIFLE, CO

The morning greeted us with three inches of snow piled up on the truck, roofs and ground!  And it was still coming down!  With more than 350 miles to drive this day, it seemed important to get packed up, loaded, grab a quick breakfast provided by the innkeepers and head for the highway.  I thought maybe we could outrun the unexpected snowy monster.  This was not to be!  When we left the hotel, it was 28F.  The intensity of the blizzard increased, the temp dropped to 24F, we climbed and my passenger gripped the “Help me handle” while I drove.  There were about three passes to navigate through the mountains of Fishlake National Forest, the blizzard reduced visibility to near zero and the only pavement to be seen were the two paths that tires make, at times.  It was safest to put the BFT’s tires in the tracks of a semi ahead and stay put, steady as she goes. 

About two hours into our trip patches of blue sky began to peek through the snow clouds and we knew we were through the worst of it.  Eventually, the skies were blue with white fluffy clouds here and there as we traveled through canyons flanked on either side by tall, red, stunning, rugged towers of rock. 

Each time we rounded a bend, another incredible vista caused a gasp, “Oh My God!”  And just when I thought that was the most beautiful I had seen, we’d round another bend and gasp even louder, “Oh My Holy Buckets God!”

The shocking in-your-face red canyons and towers of Utah gave way to wide open spaces and rolling hills where elk, range cattle, deer and the canteloupe play.  On the horizon to the south, more bright red canyons and sharp escarpments.  On the horizon ahead, snowcaps.  I believe we are facing the Rockies.  Oh mercy Percy.

From the hotel room where we are now established, the BFT sits in the parking lot looking very, very dirty!  Nothing like a dirty truck to mark time, date and experiences.  Rifle, Colorado is the current stop.  Everybody has a bucket list, right?  On mine (seriously) is, “Eat at Shooter’s Grill in Rifle, Colorado.”  One time while channel surfing we tuned into a show called, “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.”  The show featured Shooter’s Grill.  The theme at this diner centers around the Second Amendment:  We The People’s right to keep and bear arms. 

Lauren

The staff and waiters wear holstered and loaded pistols.  On the walls, a variety of rifles and pistols can be seen on display as well as a lot of funny posters.  Our waitress, Lauren, was sporting a 9mm. 

I decided on a green chili burger and Rob thought that sounded so good he seconded that motion.

The board says, "PLEASE No Smoking
within a 15 ft. radius of all business
entryways, thank you kindly.
("a 15 ft. radius..." Really?)

  No alcoholic adult beverages are served at this establishment, understandably.  So after having a lot of fun eating delicious food and socializing with the armed natives, we crossed an item off of my bucket list and stepped outside where the old brick buildings bathed in the red and orange of the setting sun frame the narrow streets.  We found a saloon, “The Big Kids Corner Bar.”  In the Kraus family, the sibs were divided into “the big kids” and “the three little kids (Lin, Marlene and Larry).”  Turns out The Big Kids Corner Bar in Rifle, CO is OK with the oldest of the Three Little Kids stopping in for a quick brew, putting the wraps on an exciting day.

ACROSS THE USA IN SPRINGTIME 2016 INTRO

Maybe driving across the Continental Divide in Springtime is not a good idea.  Snow and all that, don’tchaknow.  We live in Nevada:  We do not own a snow shovel.  Gulp.  We shall see!

A couple of decades ago when my folks died, we ten Kraus kids dismantled the farm in Neenah, WI and took away what we could in trailers, trucks and boxes.  Some of the things I wanted could not be shipped to California and so, all these years later, they are still in my brother’s attic.  Rob and I talked it over and decided that it is time to “go home” and retrieve the precious childhood items I wanted so badly to salvage from the farm.  Maybe I will find that I was silly.  Maybe not.  I’m too old to worry about that.  Rob is helping me gather up a few treasures.

Thus, we are driving from Nevada to the Midwest over the next week in the BFT (Big….Truck)!  This will be so much fun!  While we are there, the Kraus Family Reunion, Wiedervereinigung, will take place and all my brothers and sisters will gather at Larry (brother) and Linda’s home in White Bear Lake, MN for the week end.  This reunion takes place every year at the same time, the week end after Easter.  Why?  Because our good Catholic parents would not let us drink and party during Lent.  Fine, we can wait another seven days.  We get together every year after Lent and Easter to sacrifice, go bowling, drink beer and wine, party, eat meat and left over Easter eggs!  We are a giving, humble, prayerful bunch.

First stop:  Beaver, Utah. Driving here was delightful.  Well, after we got through the “Spaghetti Bowl” in Vegas, where a car was on fire and there was an hour traffic delay as notified by our GPS.  Clever navigator that I am, I got us around that mess in less than half an hour!  The rest of the stretch took us through ranges dotted with cattle and their babies, foothills covered with cedars, scrub oaks and pines and, far on the horizon, white snowcaps against royal blue sky. 

I don’t know what the haps are in Beaver, Utah, and I may not be able to find out, with only one night to stay, but I’ll try.  The sun is setting behind the mountains.  The locals recommended Arshel’s Café where Mom cooks the food for you, just up the road ½ mile.  There we were seated at a table next to a nice Mormon family, Gramma, two Moms and ten (yup, count ‘em, ten) lovely Republican children, from a nursing infant to a 12 year old.  They were celebrating Gramma’s birthday and honoring her knack for storytelling.  Because of this claim to fame, she decided to tell a story about when she was a young girl.  (Sorry, I eavesdropped.)  She and her friends attended a church function and the boys invited them to share a piece of their cake.  The cake had a wonderful filling containing chunks of chocolate candy.  “Yummy!” the girls giggled.  They later learned, first-hand, that the chocolate was ExLax.  Gramma is still giggling.  Rob and I enjoyed our delicious hot clam chowder, fish, shrimp and chips and came home to the Butch Cassidy Inn.  Time to rest up for the road ahead.