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.