6-19-24 Watertown, SD cont'd

 It was another cold, rainy day, yesterday.  Since I don’t like posing as a lightning rod out on a lake, this was another good day for indoor activities. 

Swimming in the pond by our campsite

 

Sandra offers a tour of the Mellette House.  Arthur C. Mellette was third generation Mellette who immigrated to the US from France.  He was a lawyer and a newspaper man with a successful enterprise in Indiana but for his wife’s health reasons, he moved to the fresh air of the Dakota territory in 1878.  President Benjamin Harrison appointed him the governor of the Dakota Territory and Arthur was instrumental in bringing the territory to statehood.  So he was the last governor of the Dakota Territory and the first governor of South Dakota.  It was unclear which state came first, North or South Dakota because Harrison had the papers shuffled so that nobody would know which one he signed first.  It is generally accepted that North Dakota is state # 39 and South Dakota is state # 40.  The plaque on the Mellette House says, “39^th Star.”  Apparently the argument lingers on. 

Mellette House built in 1885

 

Pictures were not allowed in the house and descriptions don’t do it justice but it is a beautiful, fully-restored home and speaks of wealth.  Dark, rich wood defines doorways and a winding staircase up to three stories where the four sons and Mom and Dad had bedrooms.  There were also quarters for the help, a kitchen with a pass-through in the wall to the formal dining room and crystal chandeliers.  When Arthur’s terms expired, the family located to Kansas and the house fell into disrepair.  A restoration project was taken up by five women who did much of the work themselves.  Son Charles Mellette shipped many original furnishings back to the home from Kansas.  Arthur, due to financial and severe health issues, died at a young 53.  His wife, originally the sickly one, lived to be 95.

 

Terry Redlin was an artist at heart from the time he was born and couldn’t stop sketching.  His teachers would always seat him at the inside wall of the classroom, otherwise he stared out the windows, daydreaming and sketching whatever might be out there.  His dream was to be a forest ranger or outdoorsman of some sort but a motorcycle accident when he was 15 years old resulted in the loss of his leg.  He didn’t know what to do with himself.  When SD offered him a scholarship to the college of his choice, his Mom piped up and said, “He wants to be an artist,” which came as a surprise to Terry.  But he studied and graduated from the School of Associated Arts in St Paul.  He worked at a calendar firm, an architectural engineering firm and finally, at a company formatting magazines.  In the end, he and his wife Helene decided to strike out on their own.  He became an independent wildlife artist, had one of his paintings featured on the cover of Ducks Unlimited and in 1983 was voted International Artist of the Year.  She worked the books, Terry painted.

Terry's chair and easel

Terry Redlin Art Center

 

Terry sold much of his art and finally, his son, an architect, asked him to stop because he had other ideas.  He designed and supervised the construction of the Terry Redlin Art Center in Terry’s home town of Watertown.  His phenomenal art covers the walls at this magnificent place and is a tribute to the life of Terry Redlin.   His talent is breath-taking and the art center is a visit that deserves several days. 

A typical winter scene

One of the many galleries

Barn Dance

 

Now, we arrive in St. Paul to attend the classic car display, Back to the 50s, with many family members and friends.  Taking a bit of time off!  I’ll be back!

6-16-24 WATERTOWN, SD

Bridge over the Missouri River

View of the Missouri River
from Bob's Restaurant

 

Our next stop after pickleball with Captain and Connie in Spearfish was a one-night stay high on a windy bluff just before Gettysburg, SD.  (The sign entering town says, “Gettysburg:  Where the battle wasn’t.”)  We parked at Bob’s.  That’s correct, Bob’s Resort.  Bob is The Man at this resort, which consists of Bob’s RV Park, Bob’s Bait Shop, Bob’s Gift Shop and Bob’s Convenience Store.  Upon investigation, Rob found a restaurant walking distance from our campsite where we could have a walleye dinner.  Hurray!  And… wait for it… at Bob’s Restaurant.  The dinner table was next to Bob’s big bay windows that overlook the beautiful blue Missouri River below and Bob’s walleye was fabulous.  In the morning, we gassed up at Bob’s Filling Station.  And my wardrobe would be incomplete without a new t-shirt on which is printed, “Bob’s.”  We continued the trip eastward to Watertown, SD.  Holy buckets, the drive was difficult, slow and nerve-wracking trying to keep Noobee in her own lane fighting the wind.  (We’re driving a billboard, you understand.)  Thankfully, it was a relatively short trip, 165 miles.  Once again, the back roads took us through many little tiny towns but, even though that was our choice, the roads are narrow and way bumpy.  Kristi, Kristi, fix the SD roads!  We thought there might be little cafes or antique shops or something along the way through the little towns but it was mostly silos, hay bales and John Deere equipment.  South Dakota is truly a part of our nation’s bread basket.

 

As for wildlife, well, every few hundred feet there is a lake or a pond.  If MN is, “Land of 10,000 Lakes,” SD is not far behind.  I expected to see deer and antelope.  Instead, there were seagulls, ducks, herons, snowy egrets, Great Northern geese, white pelicans and cormorants.  Alternating with the ponds were thousands of green acres of seedlings that our heroic farmers grow for all of the rest of us to pick up in frozen bags at Albertson’s.  What a beautiful part of the world and what salt-of-the-earth folks.

 

Arriving at Memorial Park just outside of Watertown, SD, we made camp and walked down to the lake.  Hmmmm.  Not exactly white caps but close.  No, Lindy won’t do that.  In fact, storms are rising.  Big storms.  Retreating to our cocoon, we drew in the slides and hunkered down for the night.  It appears that we are just serendipitously centered under a green and yellow storm that is stalled out right over the Midwest.  Huh!  Who knew?

 

Charles Goss

Goss Opera House

View from the upper balcony
of the opera house

That leaves indoor activities:  The Goss Opera House in Watertown, for one.  In 1844, the Goss family immigrated to the USA (legally) from England.  Charles was 11.  They ultimately landed in Sparta, WI and Charles and his wife had eight children.  The early records don’t say why but 7 of his children and his wife died there and Charles moved to Watertown, SD.  Charles couldn’t stop building stuff.  He built hotels, stores and finally lit on a project to build an opera house.  They all thought he was nuts since the tiny town already had an opera house but he was on a mission.  It was a huge building and had guest quarters upstairs.  During the depression, Charles turned those quarters into rooms-to-rent and Maud Alexander moved in.  Poor Maud.  Her son, Orval, was a heavy drinker and Maud and Orval argued a lot.  One night while she was asleep, Orval doused Mom and all of her fluffy petticoats and dress with alcohol, threw a match at her and she ran up and down the halls on fire and burned to death while Orval went back to his room, drank another pint and popped a handful of sleeping pills.  Nevertheless, Orval got out of prison on a commuted sentence for good behavior!  (Long as they didn’t give him any matches.) 

Maud Alexander's room

The nails were Maud's hangars, I guess

Mom and Orval are buried side-by-side in the local cemetery.  Strangely, they don’t say that this building is haunted.  For a while, it was about to be razed but the townfolk came to the rescue.  The endless restoration and preservation of the Goss Opera House is inspiring.  It is somewhat original in the interior and hosts concerts, weddings, conventions and the like.  It is quite a landmark in Watertown.

 

Weinerschnitzel was my beloved’s dream this evening.  We had a great dinner at Dempsey’s Brew Pub and now, we are settled in at home.  Waiting for the storms.  There are whitecaps on the lake and 45 mph gusty winds.  And it’s freezing cold.  No paddleboarding for Lindy.

Snow pole in Watertown, SD.
Look promising to you?!

Nope, not going in the water today!

6-13-2024 DRIVING THROUGH WYOMING

 I am planning to take a little time off from the t-log biz while we play with the Captain and Connie but I need to tell you about a few things.

 

There is a little town along the way called Ten Sleep.  An odd name for a town, I thought.  Well, the indigenous tribe of Indians that lived nearby used this area as a good resting point on their excursions because it was “ten sleeps” (that is, ten overnights) from any nearby threatening unfriendly tribes.  And the name stuck.

 

We're going through there, right?

Today’s drive was a bit daunting.   The road looked like it was headed straight into the snowcaps of the Bighorn Mountains.  And it was.  We were in third gear on the ascent and at one point, Rob turned on the heat to cool the engine down.  Fortunately, we were at elevation so it was a bit cooler outside.  We opened the windows.  We could watch and hear the rivers below, crashing down through the boulders.  I don’t know what class the whitewater is rated but I didn’t see any humans running the rivers and I suspect it is runable only by hardy souls such as Lonesome Larry.  At 9,666 feet, we crested at Powder River Pass and then began the descent. 

Watch out, Rob!  You're going to 
go over the edge!  Love from
The Flat Earth Society

The signs warned of five 8% grades ahead, check brakes.  Four grades left.  Check brakes.  Three grades left.  Check brakes.  Then, we came upon this:  a catch net.  Rather than a runaway truck ramp, the warning signs said, “There is a 7% grade hairpin 4 miles ahead.  Check brakes.  Consider using the catch net.”  It is a straight off-ramp that is cordoned off with a series of several elastic nets.  They are of the same technology as the cables that jets snag with the tailhook on an aircraft carrier and can stop a 90,000 lb. load traveling 90 mph.  The signs say, “Save your life!  Use the catch net.”  It has been used successfully six times since its installation and has saved the lives and vehicles every time.  I am only 75 years old but this was truly a new one for me!  Well, Rob was driving, watching the engine and using the “jake” brake so the DeLaMares didn’t wind up in the catch net.   Four 7% grades later, we made it, leveled out a little and it was safe to turn the wheel over to Lindy.

The Catch Net Channel 

Entrance to the Catch Net

Zoom in on this (L side)
to see the diagram of how the
net system works.

Warnings, warnings, warnings!

 

So here we are all rigged up and settled in at the KOA in Spearfish.  The weather forecast doesn’t look good, but if it holds, we may get in a little pickleball tomorrow.  And certainly, walleye for dinner, either way!

6-12-2024 LEAVING LAKETOWN AND ON TO WORLAND, WY

Yesterday morning, when we arose, the outside temperature was 46F.  Young couples with a passel of little blond-haired, blue-eyed future Republican kids and a wagon full of inflatable toys were headed for the beach.  I put on my parka and made breakfast, that’s my opinion of 46F. 

My sentiments exactly!

It warmed up a little later but the lake got choppy.  No paddleboard for this old bag.  We decided to drive to Idaho, find a saloon and have a beer.  It wasn’t a long drive as, you may recall, the state line between Idaho and Utah cuts the lake in two. 

View from Cooper's deck

Deck at Cooper's Restaurant and Bar

We found Cooper’s Restaurant and Bar, ordered fries and beer, an Idaho 208 Golden Ale for Rob and a Sockeye Lonesome Larry Lager for Lindy.  Sockeye Lonesome Larry?

 

Sockeye Lonesome Larry, the most eligible bachelor in the sockeye salmon family, swam 900 miles up to his natal spawning grounds at Redfish Lake (6,500 feet alt.) to get laid.    When he arrived, he found there were no other sockeye salmon, not a single one, let alone a chick salmon.  The water temperature in those years (the early 90s) had risen to 68F, lethally warm for these fish and they had the dubious honor of joining the Endangered Species list.  Poor Larry lived a lonely life in the Lake for quite a while, no chicks available for a little hanky-panky.  Conservationists harvested his sperm and it is said that he is the Pops of about 6% of the sockeye salmon now in the lake.  Not the best way to get your rocks off for Lonesome Larry, I’m guessing.  He never did get lucky.  He gathered a cult following of humans and when he died, he was stuffed and hung on the wall in the Idaho Governor’s Mansion, a symbol of Idaho’s determined effort to preserve the salmon population.  Why shouldn’t some clever entrepreneurial beer brewer create Sockeye Lonesome Larry Lager to honor the Samson-like effort by this legendary fish to get laid?

 

We returned to camp, Rob mixed the toonies and we headed for the beach.  It was considerably warmer at this time of day so we thought we’d take a stroll on the sandbar in the late afternoon sun.  A pleasant, tranquilizing way to end the day and the stay at Rendezvous Beach.

View from Noobee's door

Strolling on the sand bar

Rob on the sand bar (Why isn't there
a local saloon called,
"The Sand Bar?")

Our campsite

 

Today, we face another long drive, 306 miles, to Worland, WY.  This will be another one-night stay as we make progress toward Spearfish, SD.  There we will meet up with Gary (aka Captain) and Connie and maybe play a little pickleball with our long-time friends.  For the moment, however, the traveling is difficult, in high wind with 45+ mph gusts that threaten to blow Noobee off the road.  The steering wheel drips with sweat and our speed ranges between 35 and 50 mph.  Wyoming is beautiful, to be sure, but the persistent high winds as well as mile after mile of tall snow fences explain the sparse population of humans.

6-10-2024 LAKETOWN, UTAH

 Right out of the gate, it rained on us, the windshield is full of squashed bugs and our vehicles are filthy!

 

Our first leg was a long, 340-mile drive and the first night was just a stopover.  We don’t usually do that but the goal was a longer stay at our next spot, Laketown, UT, where we hope to get in a little paddleboarding.  We are currently driving and ahead of us on the horizon is an endless ridge of snowcaps.  Beautiful to be sure but I suspect a little on the chilly side.  I frequently think about the Mormons who came out here, walking from Chicago or Baltimore pulling handcarts.  When they saw this mountain range, they thought, “Yeah, this is probably a good enough place, let’s stop here.”  The women, in their full-length dresses, petticoats, bloomers, bonnets, six kids in tow, an infant in arms and pregnant with another one, might have also had a voice.  So they called it quits.  Ol’ Brig named the area, “Deseret,” and chose the beehive as its emblem.  Not because Utah is infested with bees but to symbolize the perseverance and industriousness that bees typify and that the faithful would have to emulate in order to survive and thrive here.  Thus, Utah is The Beehive State.  (Handy info for your next game of Trivia.)

 

We are now just north of Laketown, at Bear Lake’s Rendezvous Beach.  This is an amazing lake.  It’s huge;  20 miles long, 8 miles wide, 208 feet deep at its deepest point.  It is called “The Caribbean of the Rockies,” because of the intensely turquoise to navy blue water, certainly not its average temperature (54F)!  The Idaho-Utah state line runs across the approximate center of the lake.  On the south end where we are camped the beach has a sandbar about 10-15 feet out.  The water is fairly shallow quite a distance from shore and so the water temperature is warm enough for me to venture out on my board.  Maybe.  Being cold is not my strong suit.  Today, we had to go in to town for a few things (more on that) and so we decided that while we were at it, we would take a drive around the lake just to see the haps.  They include beautiful beaches and picnic areas, campgrounds and hundreds of gorgeous houses, estates really.  It is probable that they are seasonally occupied as we learned that, here at 6,000 feet above sea level, the lake freezes over in the Winter.  (One local told us that last year, at one point, he had 5 feet of snow in his driveway.  Isn’t that special?)  It took about 2 hours to drive around the beautiful blue lake, much larger than it was originally because of a small dam that was constructed downstream.  It is a water sports and fisherman’s paradise.  Seasonal, to be sure.

The view from our campsite

Driving around the lake, beauty all the way.

 

When we arrived here, we found that the Brinks locks installed on the Jeepster’s tow forks had seized up due, no doubt, to road grit, rain splatter and grime.  No amount of lubricant spray or force would allow the keys to open them.  We were stuck with the Jeep attached to the beast.  We figured out how to detach the forks from the Jeep and got it free but with the locks still locked, there was no way to rehook the Jeep for the next tow.  The locks had to be cut off.  With what?  So we were off to the Ace Hardware Store in Garden City to try to find anything that might work.  What would cut through the high-strength steel of a Brinks lock, we wondered?  Rob found a high-speed Dremel and disc.  So our third day on this adventure involved resolving another, “issue.”  It worked and took about 15 minutes, to our relief.  Now, we’ll tow with simple pins.  If somebody wants to steal the Jeep while we’re at lunch, they’ll have one less hoop through which to jump.

Rob tries out the new Dremel to 
cut off the locks.  Yup, works
as advertised.

 

Back to having fun.  The cocktail hour is upon us.

 We are off to the beach to enjoy a toonie in the late afternoon sun.

6-8-2024 INTRODUCTION TO THE SUMMER T-LOGS

 It’s that time again!  Hi to all you t-loggers out there!

 

For many weeks, we’ve been submerged in preparations:  Packing, planning, making notes, checking off stuff on lists, stopping mail and papers, putting sticky notes on the mirrors, checking off doctor appointments, coordinating with our security arrangements including the Sheriff and juggling with last-minute panics.  Spinning the plates, we call it.  Examples include but are not limited to:  Our burglar alarm system suddenly decided to go south, what’s up with that?  Then, our electric gate developed a problem that required a visit by our friendly gate-guy.  Oh no… upon lathering up Noobee, chips were found in the windshield.  Off to the glass shop.  I myself checked off six doctors in just a couple of weeks.  In that regard, it’s been a long haul for both of us since last September as it involved my eye, 2 surgeries and a chauffeur (Rob) and 28 appointments in Las Vegas (and that was just for the first eyeball)!  The other eye will wait until August.  My surgeon didn’t want to rush into surgery on the other eye and then we go away and I develop problems in Hutchinson, Kansas.  For now, I am doctor-free!  Over the next 2,000 miles of travel, I will be sweeping all saloons for doctors before we feel it’s safe to go in.

Lookin' good, Jeepster!

All waxed up and chomping at the bit

GOAT all tucked in for the Summer
"No!  You can't come along!
Down, Boy!"

Blue tape marking the chips... yikes... 

 

Whatever hasn’t been done at this point will remain undone.  Both of our vehicles have been washed, polished and waxed and my back hurts.  We are pulling up stakes at the homestead today, hooking up the Jeepster, doing once-arounds (Spinning the plates.) and finally, heading across the fruited plain to see what kind of trouble we can cause without getting arrested.  Another great reason to take the back roads, now that I think about it!  Lots of open places to hide the bodies.  And we’re off……. Nope, wait…. Back up the truck.  Here we are at T minus 1 and the aux battery that feeds the aux brake unit in the Jeepster is dead as a doornail.  OK, we’re off and limping for a bit with no brakes in the Jeepster until we find a new battery.  It’s always somethin,’ Jane. 

Off like a prom dress!