RED WING, MN 8-15-2017

Seems I run out of time and space to tell you all of the tales that are stored in my fingers.  We stayed 2 nights in MSP at the Radisson Blu Hotel located at the Mall of America.  If you have a bucket list, put Mall of America on it.  It’s like Disneyland under a roof, perfect for Minnesota where you can spend a day out of the weather in an amazing environment.  You can take an incredible ride in a simulator that is like the IMAX Theater on steroids.  It’s called, “Fly Over America.”  Do this!

Meanwhile, back at the American Queen:

In the morning, George and Ray arrived and we brought them aboard the ship to poke around.  Our stateroom was stop one but let’s get on with the fun stuff! 

Ray and George in our stateroom

There was a tour of the bridge (pilot house) on the schedule starting in the Chart Room.  Our tour guide was accompanied by one of the Captains, Allison. 

Up on the bridge

Explaining the sonar

Yes, a chick Captain… we’re doomed.  They explained all of the controls, computers and sonar equipment that these talented, experienced folks must understand and operate flawlessly.  It is really intimidating, way too much to remember.  On the fun side, the guide blew the ear-splitting steam-powered whistle for us.  One long and two shorts is the signal for, “Relax, this is just a demo.”  They also explained that the stacks collapse down if necessary to travel under bridges.  We watched this process a little later when we set sail, immediately passing under a bridge.

Blowing the steam whistle

Rob and George listen to Greg in Engineering

Down in the engine room

The engine room was next.  The boat is preparing to depart today so the engineers were a bit busy but Greg took time to show us around and explain the complex systems that move us along the river.  The engines originally belonged to the dredge Kennedy and were built in 1932.  It was a clever design that uses four steam chambers to drive twin pistons, one on either side of the paddle wheel.  These pistons are attached to the gigantic cranks that rotate the paddle wheel.  Other hardware and cables control the rudders and rudder trim surfaces which are pinned together to function in tandem.  The paddle wheel itself is massive, clocking in at almost 100,000 pounds of wood and metal.  The paddles are pine, meant to give and break if necessary, to be replaced by spares carried on board.  The spokes of the paddle are made of oak and are intended to be much sturdier. 

Lindy and Ray and a big ass paddle wheel

Big ass paddle wheel

L

There is a machine shop in the engine room kept proudly by Mark, who can make replacements for any parts that may fail.

Rob and George in their element, the machine shop

Tools, tools, tools!  Aaaaargh!

The engineers were happy to escort us to the boiler room, next.  They grinned happily, “Hardly anybody ever asks to tour the boiler room!”  This is the heartbeat of this complex machine.  The fuel that is burned to heat the water that creates the steam that drives the engines all begins here.  Storage

In the boiler room

Look in there, George.  One hot ass fire!

We four in the boiler room

tanks, potable water provisions and hot water for every need are the purview of the trusty boiler room staff who carefully tend and monitor the machinery.  The staff told George that there is a job opening right now for an oiler in the boiler room.  George laughed and said, “Get me a pair of overalls!”

 

When the boat exploration ended, bloody marys and lunch were served at the café at the bow end.  Of course this was the perfect way to complete the experience!  After polishing off broccoli soup, baked salmon, beef brisket, fresh tomatoes, coleslaw, pumpkin pie and brownies, it was at last time to say, “good bye” to George and Ray.  Now we head down the Mississippi River!  First stop:  LaCrosse, WI.

Raising the starboard stack

Almost up!

Lunchtime!  George, Ray, Lindy and Roberto

 

MINNEAPOLIS-ST. PAUL, MN 8-13-2017

Time has flown!  On the evening of August 11, we celebrated our 28^th wedding anniversary a day early.  The reason for this is that we knew that August 12^th would be very busy, administratively.  On August 12^th, it was time to batten down all the hatches on Bee and head for the airport for our flight to MSP.  We did everything we could to secure Bee including following the suggested procedure of setting out pans of desiccant.  The desiccant is meant to draw the humidity out of the air.  Humidity?  You could drown just breathing in New Orleans.  The idea is to put the crystals in a little sieve-like bowl.  They draw the water out of the air and it drips down into a pan below.  Every few days, you empty the pan.  Except that we won’t be there to empty the pan.  Plan B.  I punched holes in the bottom of two tin foil baking pans, poured the crystals into those and set one pan in the kitchen sink and one pan in the shower.  The water will run down the drain.  Tell me I’m right.  The rv park is storing Bee and the Jeep “on higher ground,” in the event of severe rains or flooding.  This higher ground is about 6 inches higher than our campsite, located on the shores of Pontchartrain Lake.  Well, as I say, we have done all we can to secure Bee and the Jeepster.  We grabbed our bags, walked away and said a prayer.

The bar served us a beer, a cup of gumbo, jambalaya and crawfish bisque while we waited for the taxi.  Another couple was sitting at the bar and they had been out on the lake doing a little fishing in their pedal-propelled rowboat.  We chatted with them awhile and I asked, “So, are there beaches?  Do people jump in and swim in the lake?”  “Oh no!” was the reply.  “There are alligators in there!”  Um, hello?  Alligators?  And we were camped 6 feet from the shoreline?  So I could step out of Bee and there in the grass is a freaking alligator?  I almost had a heart attack.  Being eaten by an alligator is high up there on the list of ways I don’t want to die.  So, in New Orleans you got your floods, tropical rain storms, hurricanes and now, you got your alligators.  It’s time to fly north.  Mosquitoes OK, alligators not so much.  Wow, I’m outta here.

Larry, Carol, Lindy, Dick (George) and Marlene
Part of the instigating mob

On August 13^th, my sister Carol hosted a picnic at her house.  Seventeen of my family were there, 5 from my generation, and we had so much fun.  If you would like the rundown, from my generation were (with spouses) Dick, Carol, Marlene, Larry and me.  Then there was generation 2:  Shelly, Jason, Andy, Emily, Heather, and from gen 3, Everest and Zoey.  Well!  That was quite a reunion!  They surprised me with a birthday cake!  Yes, I’m sixty nine soon, no worries, no pain.  It was wonderful to see so many of my family for an entire afternoon!  Carol and Swede did a great job!

It’s time to prepare to board the American Queen at the top end of the Mississippi River in Red Wing, MN.  All day long, they herded us onto the buses, but when we arrived at the ship, there on the park bench sat my brother Dick (aka George – long story), waiting to see us one last time.  We were shocked!  He wanted a tour but that had to wait until the next day.  We were faced with a maze of technicalities to navigate upon arrival at the boat including a Coast Guard required safety drill.  We made arrangements to meet up and bring George and Ray on board the following morning, August 15^th.

The American Queen is only 22 years old.  The paddle wheel is not just for show, it provides a significant amount of the boat’s propulsion requirements.  The boat is 418 feet long and 90 feet wide.  There are ~500 of us tourists aboard and ~200 crew members taking good care of us and the beautiful boat. – more to come -

NEW ORLEANS, LA 8-11-2017

The news people make things look a lot worse than they are.  You folks have been contacting us, worrying that we are flooded, drowning and floating out to sea.  It did seem like it, for awhile there.  Driving the last 200 miles from Westlake to New Orleans was frightening.  The rain was so heavy that we engaged the emergency flashers and slowed to 35 mph.  Eventually, the downpour abated and we arrived six hours later at the rv park, Pontchartrain Landing, miraculously right on schedule. 

Bee and Jeepster at Pontchartrain Landing

The good news is that the wheel well repair held up.  You’d be proud of us.  You know those Teflon sheets people use for cutting boards?  One of them made a fine and dandy doubler that we taped and sealed over the damaged wheel well liner!  Worked like a charm!  Liaison Engineers at your service!  The roof still leaked though, where the TV dish is installed.  Rob went up top and gooped it up some more and so far it is holding.  Bee has wet clothing, muddy shoes, wet umbrellas and ponchos draped everywhere!  Not the best of times but not the worst of times, either. 

It is drying out a little bit now.  The sky is blue and the sun is shining.  It’s really a nice resort with a bar, restaurant, pool and lots of grass.  Bee is maybe 5 or 6 feet from the edge of the lake.  And if you like movies, every day at 9AM the featured film is “Hurricane on the Bayou.”  For those of you who like saunas, come here to the Big Easy and simply sit outside on a lawn chair.

Across from us on Pontchartrain Lake,
 a restoration project is under weigh.

"I live here!  What are you looking at?!"

Yesterday was an administrative day.  Mostly, doing laundry and packing suitcases.  Tomorrow’s itinerary is a lock.  We’ll put Bee in the storage facility here, grab our bags, catch a taxi to the airport and hop on a plane that will take us to Minneapolis-St. Paul.  We’ll party a bit with my family on Sunday and then meet up with Fritz and Pal.  On Monday, we four board the American Queen, a paddle wheeler which will carry us all the way down the Mississippi River back to Bee and New Orleans, a 23-day trip!  That will check off another bucket list item!

Many more stories are on the way.  But for now, know that we are dry and safe and all is well and thank you for asking.  God bless.

WESTLAKE, LA 8-8-2017

“Rob?  Why do people live here?”

“Lin?  Why do people drive their motorhomes here?” 

I know you should never answer a question with a question, but in this case, both questions are valid.  I’d say it’s raining but individual raindrops normally have air between them, don’t they?  Presently, there is no air between the raindrops. What we have is a sheet of water.  Or maybe a block of water.  And it comes with sound:  lightning followed every 11 seconds by thunder.  (I counted.)  “Rob, do motorhomes float?”  The National Weather Service has sent 6 severe storm warnings to my phone, so far.  Aren’t they special?  As if I didn’t know.  “Avoid flash flood areas.”  OK, and we should go where to accomplish this avoidance, then?  Nevada sounds good.  We planned this trip in February, 2016.  Did God have these floods in mind way back then?  He could have told us.  Speaking of avoidance, the sign said, “Avoid West Nile virus.  Wear insect repellent containing DEET when going outdoors.”

We need to put some “comfort food” on the menu.  Root beer float?  Watermelon?  Sea cucumbers?  Ocean Spray juice?  Turtle soup?  Lifesavers?  We are hunkered down, watching it storm in Westlake (with the emphasis on “lake”).  We haven’t often seen frogs surfing in a parking lot.  In spite of the drenching, we have accomplished a couple of tasks:  sealed a roof leak around the TV dish and sealed off a damaged wheel well liner (a casualty of a previous blowout) where water from the tires was being catapulted up under the frig and into the cabin.  Two-six-pack-jobs, Rob said, but we finished them in two beers each.

This portrait, father and son,
will be a collector, someday.

On a more fun note:  about the Presidential limousine at HW’s library.  The plaque says that most of the details regarding the limo are classified but the public may know a few things.  The Secret Service oversees all of the servicing of the vehicles.  Stay away!  The windows are thick as a telephone book.  They do not specify if the telephone book is from Los Angeles or Pahrump.  The tires are bullet-proof.  If they are shot at, inserts in the tires allow the limo to keep moving along.  The limo has a remote starter with a bomb detector, a self-healing fuel tank, a supplemental supply of oxygen and layers of Kevlar under the car’s sheet metal from top to bottom.  The limo weighs about 7,000 pounds.  Also, it hits zero to sixty in 4.3 seconds.  (I made that last part up.)  There are 12 limos, all stored below the Secret Service offices and under 24/7 surveillance.  I don’t know if they come with a tow package or USB ports.

A fun little swamp, don't you think?

Back to the present.  We are trying to outrun a nor’easter that is a yellow and red spot on the weather map (not a good sign).  Driving visibility is near zero.  We should arrive in New Orleans in about 3 hours, God willing and the creeks don’t rise, literally.  Along the way, a bridge, miles long, crosses over the Henderson Swamp.  Endless miles of green, slimy, nasty swamps with green shit growing everywhere.  I wonder if alligators are in there.  I “wonder,” I’m not going to try to find out! 

The sign read, "No anchoring or dredging."  A good
place to dump the body!

I asked a few questions of Larry, the proprietor of our last park:

“What are those towers I see everywhere, Larry?  The ones with the white strobes on top?”

“Those are cell towers.”

“Cell towers?  Why are there strobes on them?”

“To alert aircraft to their presence.”

“Aircraft?!  They fly that low?!”

“Well, yes.  The crop dusters do.”

“Crop dusters?  Here in the middle of town?”

“Yeah.  The ones that fly over the swamps to keep the mosquitoes down.”

……..

“Rob?  Why do people live here?”

COLLEGE STATION, TX 8-7-2017

Someone expressed surprise that the Vineyards RV Resort is so empty based upon the picture I sent.  That is not “empty!”  That is the space between us and our nearest neighbor!  The park is actually full!

The haps on “prairie grass:”

(I give partial credit to Ken Burns and the documentary on the Dust Bowl for part of this information.)  The entrance to W’s Library was surprising to us.  The surrounding landscaping looked unkempt.  Nobody had mowed the brownish, burned lawn maybe ever and it made the library look like an abandoned building (to us).  We learned that Laura and W had chosen to landscape with “prairie grass” to emphasize the “western” feel and spirit of their roots.  Prairie grass should not be mowed.  As it grows tall, about knee-high, the tops of the blades carry the seeds which fall to the ground, reseeding itself.  If you mow it, you kill it.  Unaware of this, when the frontiers people came west, they tilled under the natural growth in the fields, also known as “weeds,” in order to plant crops.  It killed the prairie grass and left behind nothing but dirt and dust.  Along came the winds sweeping across the plain… and The Dust Bowl.  The Dust Bowl was a man-made disaster!

George Herbert Walker Bush was the 41^st President of the USA. 

W has written a book about his Dad entitled, “41.”  They jokingly call each other, “41” and “43.”  The only other father-son Presidents we have had are “J” and “Q:” Adams.

HW was born in Massachusetts but as a child, the family headed west. 

They drove across the country in a
1950 Studebaker and Dad got involved in the oil industry.  When the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor, HW felt compelled to join the fight and enlisted in the Navy at age 18. 

He became a Naval aviator and flew scores of missions off the SS San Jacinto.  He took enemy fire with four 500-lb. bombs on board and yet, he managed to deliver the ordnance according to plan, got his crew evacuated and finally, bailed out of the plane.  He was rescued by a US sub hours later.  No one knows what happened to his crew, they were never found.  HW agonizes over it to this day.

He fell in love with and married Barbara and soon, babies were on the way.  W was the first one down the chute.  The family moved back to Massachusetts because he was determined to go to college.  Married and with a son, he nevertheless finished up a degree in Economics from Yale in 2 ½ years, Phi Beta Kappa.  He reasoned that he had to hurry so he could get a job (a novel concept)!  The couple moved back to Texas and continued making babies, six altogether, although Robin died of leukemia when she was 3.

Grumman TBM 44 - HW's was shot down

The library is massive compared to W’s.  It contains a Grumman TBM 44 Avenger

(his original is at the bottom of the sea), a Presidential limo, a Studebaker like the Bush’s, a piece of the Berlin Wall and a recreation of HW’s Oval Office.

Piece of the Berlin Wall

 

The Day the Wall Came Down
sculpture by Veryl Goodnight

On the beautifully landscaped grounds, there stands a stunning bronze sculpture entitled, “The Day the Wall Came Down,” created by Veryl Goodnight.  The horses jumping over the rubble of the wall symbolize “freedom.”  There are two of these pieces, the other is in Berlin.

You can't stop the spirit of freedom.

Late in the afternoon, we found a bar called Razzoo and treated ourselves to a brew and a dozen raw oysters.  Finally, we headed for the ranch (that’s “home” in Texan), and fixed a nice fried chicken dinner.  We can’t seem to escape the storms on this trip.  At 2AM, torrents of rain pelted our roof and thunderclaps nearly threw us out of bed.  We are now on the road to Westlake, LA and it is raining buckets!  Bee bravely trudges on while we, on the other hand, are nervous and panicky.  Four inches of rain in a day?  We’re accustomed to 4 inches of rain per decade.  We are currently engaged in a Bee roof leak repair.  It’s always somethin’, Jane.

(Texans have a mind and laws of their own.  The sign in the bathroom says, “Carrying lighted cigars is strictly prohibited.”  Huh?  OK, I won’t light mine.)

GRAPEVINE, TX 8-3 to 8-4-2017

We have been doing this rv thing for more than 25 years and we have visited some awful parks and some beautiful parks.  Neither of us has ever seen one as gorgeous as The Vineyards. 

Can you find Bee in this picture?!

Bee and some other people, way, way over there!

We are camped on the shore of Grapevine Lake on an enormous site with no one between us and the water where many animals live.  We share the beach with ducks, sandpipers, geese, snowy egrets, blue herons and big turtles.  There are docks, a big marina, kayaks for rent,

Yup, that's Krauser.

pavilions, huge, manicured grass picnic areas and fireworks every Friday night.

Grapevine was established in 1844 by the Foster family who came here from Platte County, MO and was named for the wild mustang grape vines that grow profusely here.  Unlike Amarillo, the historic downtown district is carefully preserved and protected by the townsfolk.  Main Street is bordered on either side by brick buildings dating back to the mid-1800s.  A cabin was moved 4 miles, intact, to

The Torian family cabin, built in 1845

the center of the district.  It was built in 1845 and changed hands twice until 1886 when a farmer from Kentucky, John Torian, acquired the cabin.  The Torian family lived in it until the 1940s.  Cattle were the lucrative industry in the mid-1800s and after the railroads arrived, Grapevine became a shipping hub for goods such as dairy products, grain and cotton.  Although wine was not the product that put Grapevine on the map, the historic district is dotted with a number of small wineries.  Bring money.  In fact, bring money for just about everything in Grapevine!  Lots of money.

Got money?

Redfish was on the lunch menu at Big Fish on Main.  I haven’t heard of “redfish” and asked our waiter what it is.  He said, “Well… it’s a white fish…”  OK, I’ll have that!  It’s very tender and fragile, blackened and topped with a spicy orange sauce that looks a bit like Thousand Island.  I made sure Rob had a taste, too, so now, we have new seafood to add to our list.  I studied up on redfish later and learned that it is also called rosefish, red drum, rockfish and red snapper, so it may be that I have had redfish before but I’m going to claim it as a new try, anyhow!

Friday, 8-4, was our day assigned to pay a visit to the George W. Bush Presidential Library in Dallas, a short 26 mile drive from our camp.  It was a bit hard to find and we were a little surprised at how small and plain it is.  (This is by comparison to, say, the Reagan Library.  We have been there 3 times and still have not seen the whole thing.) 

George W's portrait in George W's Oval Office

George W always seemed to me to be a self-effacing gentleman, anyway, and in the last days of his administration and far into the BHO administration, he took quite a cruel pummeling, both from the press and the politicians.  Maybe it could explain the rather thoughtful and humble library and museum that houses memorabilia from the W era.  The full scale replica of the Oval Office, exactly as it was when W occupied it, is moving. 

Carpet that was in the Oval Office, designed by Laura

Laura designed the carpet with rays of sunlight streaming from the central Presidential seal.  One is free to wander about and sit behind the desk (also a replica). 

Structural beam from the WTC

Elsewhere, there is a structural beam from the WTC in an area that spells out the details of the events that occurred on 9-11.  This quiet thoughtful display still brings tears to my eyes.  

Don't ask me why it posted sideways.  God, I hate computers.

George W’s defense of his decisions and actions seems palpable throughout the library even though as I remember it at the time, everybody in the country was all, “You rah rah, go get ‘em, W!”  For what it’s worth, I always supported W (To my pleasant surprise, I found my name listed in the donor registry at the entrance to the library.) and defend his actions, even now, as I was blessed with a longer memory than some.  He is deeply patriotic and a devoted, sincere American, a good husband and father and it shows.  And an important observation I will make:  Reagan, HW and W all left the stage and went back to their quiet private lives after they served, which is more than we can say for some of our previous Presidents who continue to haunt us, sadly.  Lastly, we happened into the gift shop and learned that W, in his retirement, is quite a gifted painter by avocation.  A book titled, “Portraits of Courage” is a collection of his work and features portraits of war veterans.  Next stop:  College Station, TX.

Rob at the AF1 display

President Rob DeLaMare

President Krauser

8-1-2017 Albuquerque, NM

(Hi t-loggers!  If you post a comment as “anonymous” on the blog, please ID yourself so I know who you are!  Also, FYI, I am NOT getting used to the mouse!)

The remains.  Low-hanging branches are
not an rv's best friends!

Our personal sentry - a peregrine falcon

On Monday morning, we rose bright and early (Well, OK… ) and began our daily Bee repairs.  Today, Rob  climbed up top to install the new frig vent cover.  As we worked, fitted, drilled, handed up parts and tools, a beautiful friend joined us to keep an eye on the project.  He was screeching and surveying the situation but I don’t think they eat humans so we were in good shape.  At last, he got bored with nothing to eat around here and flew away.

Spouse’s antennae were in overdrive when he realized that the Unser Racing Museum is located in Albuquerque.  The museum traces the history of the Unser dynasty going back to the uncles and grandparents of Al and Bobby and continuing to the present and Little Al’s generation.  There are still several Unsers racing in minor series but none in Indy Cars or Nascar anymore.  Seems the addiction began with the race up Pike’s Peak beginning in the 50s although greatgrampa rode a motorcycle up there in 1915 before there was a road.  The Unsers claim about half the victories and trophies from that event.  There are two buildings that house the cars they all drove and one entire room filled to the gills with trophies and awards.  Yes, I’ve crashed an F-18 into an aircraft carrier but I have never driven an Indy car at Indy.  Rob wandered off and at once heard a loud engine fire up, chased down the racket and found Lindy in the simulator navigating the short chutes at 180 mph!  I finished 10^th of ten.  I’m no Unser but at least I didn’t crash!  Of course, now Rob had to drive.  He finished 7^th, show off!

 

Not MY trophy case!

Get high, avoid the marbles,
then, dive down into the turn, right?

Pass him, Rob!

Rob lived in Albuquerque for 3 years as a child and remembers the mountains, especially Sandia Peak, which was just across the field, back then.  He and Paul could ride their bikes to the mountain on the trails through the open barren desert.  There was no tramway.  It was built 6 years after the DeLaMare family moved away and now, there are entire communities populating the land all the way to the foot of the mountains and part way up. 

Do you see the car?  An impressive height, yes?

We’ve wanted to ride the Sandia Peak Tramway when out this way but it was either too crowded or the weather didn’t cooperate.  The tram will not run if the E-W winds reach 60 mph, the N-S winds reach 40 mph or lightning is present within a 5 mile radius.  Today, we hit the jackpot:  no crowds and no adverse weather conditions, well at least not right away.  The tram carried its passengers up 10,378 ft. to the summit.  There, we were free to scout around and try to identify landmarks below for as long as we wished.  But soon, there were raindrops.  Uh oh, a squall.  Time to go down.  The sky grew black.  It was streaked with lightning bolts and  deafening thunder claps were startling.  We love our Jeepster.  It can ford the washes and rivers that are normally streets.  (And did that refrigerator vent cover get installed in the nick of time or what?!)

Amarillo, TX is next.  We will stay but one night as we have found that there is not much to see or do in Amarillo.  (Although it’s been 8 years since we passed through.)  When the I-40 sent Route 66 to the ash heap of history, some small towns took advantage and created tourist attractions based upon the historical significance of Route 66.  Apparently though, residents decided that the freeway had relegated Amarillo to the same ash heap.  Bye bye Amarillo.  The one claim to fame is the Big Texan, a restaurant just off the highway which presents a peculiar offer.  If, in one hour, one eats a 72-ounce steak and all the sides which are served by backing a truck up to the table, the meal is free.  Seventy-two ounces of steak?  A potato the size of a football?  My Mom probably served a 4 ½ lb. slab of meat to an entire family of 12!  It is a merry saloon and hall filled with hundreds of hooting guests, but we can be satisfied with small portions and a cold brew.  Okey dokey then, let there be Amarillo.