Life on the Road to Paradise

Life on the Road to Paradise

As I write this post to Road Hog Blog I am in Buffalo, Wyoming.  Getting here has been a wonderful trip that I'll attempt to do justice in writing and in pics.  Bear with me because I'm having to remember the last week and as I get older I have trouble remembering what I had for breakfast, much less the roads I've traveled.

The pic I wanted and couldn't get was of two bucks mock fighting.
I say "mock" because the rut isn't until mid-November.

Driving across the vast rolling prairies of South Dakota and Wyoming is but a prelude to the sheer majesty of what is to follow; the mountains.  I used to work in the Rockies above Denver and so I'm no stranger to mountain majesty.  That said, let me just say for the record that the Big Horn mountains of Wyoming are every bit, if not more appealing than the Rockies.  This part of Wyoming is all about a transitional zone for wildlife.  In just a half hour drive on I-90 today I saw what could have been 1,000 Pronghorn Antelope and more than several mule deer, one of which could have been the twin of the one I took near Moorcroft, WY back in the late 1970's.  Yesterday I was coming back from running errands in Sheridan and upon entering the Buffalo city limits I spotted four mule deer in front of a church a few blocks from my RV park, Indian RV Camping.  The biggest of the two bucks sported a perfectly symmetrical 10 point rack.  I tried with all my might to get a good pic of him, but none of the four pics I took came out at all well.  I'm getting more and more serious about chronicling my travels as my travels get more and more interesting.  Stay tuned because this blog is about to get a lot better.

There is a haze that is laying over the front range of the
Big Horn Mountains.  It's smoke from the fires you can see here.

I must have seen a few thousand antelope in the one
side trip to the Sheridan Walmart.  Antelope won't jump a fence,
so a  sheep fence will keep them off the highways.

Small mule deer, but with a perfect 10 pt rack. 

Rolling prairie is fast becoming one of my most favorite places.
It's just a really serene place with loads of wildlife and great views.

Yesterday I left the motor home without my camera.  On a lark I took off into the Big Horn mountains just to see what I could see.  I was barely gone 20 minutes when I took a left turn to what was promised to be a recreational area and lake.  The dirt road was rough, rough enough that I wish I had left the kayak at home.  It wasn't happy on the roof as I drove down the washboard lane flanked by pine forest.  I had slowed considerably and as I rounded a corner a young elk (sex unknown) showed me his white rump as he slipped into the tree line.  He didn't seem in any particular hurry moving like an animal with the confidence knowing he wasn't fair game in these woods.  I was hoping to see his papa, but alas.  After 15 minutes of dodging ruts in the road I arrived at a sure-nuff recreation area and almost like a cul-de-sac at the end of a street an almost circular lake lay in front of me.  It was a really beautiful sight/site.  I parked on the boat ramp, which was sorely inadequate given the low water level I saw.  The bottom I was able to see through the clear water looked to be smooth medium sized boulders.  I raised my voice a little to ask a fisherman 50 yards away how they were biting and he said, "I've got two".  Given the 7,000 foot elevation I assume he was talking trout.  I might have to get a 10 day fishing license tomorrow and get out a fly rod from the basement.  I've got a 3wt and a 4wt that would be perfect for the occasion.  It's time to dig out my vest and other gear.  I'll start with some dry flies and see what happens.  I saw some trout rising along the shoreline, so we'll see what we'll see.  I keep telling myself that I'm pressed for time to get to Yellowstone before the first snows, but I just can't pass up an opportunity like this.

The road to Buffalo has been interesting.

I had entertained the idea of doing some pheasant hunting in South Dakota, but balked when I saw the prices they charge for guided hunts.  A friend who hunts SD pheasant simply walks onto BLM land and starts kicking bushes.  His wife helps in the hunt, but she doesn't shoot and simply walks along for the fun of it helping flush birds.  Turns out the eastern 2/3rds of the state is good pheasant habitat.  When I realized I was too far west and past the prime pheasant territory I just gave up on the idea and kept going.  I was content not to kill any birds.  Hell, I've gotten to the point where I don't like to kill anything, even fish, and even have pangs of conscience when I hit butterflies on the road.  I remember coming north across western Iowa and I could plainly see a large hairy caterpillar on the Interstate that I squished.  I was a little saddened that there would be one less butterfly in the world.  Butterflies are one thing I don't think you can have too many of in this life, right?  Who would argue that, eh?  I had considered stopping over at Wind Cave National Park, but it was too out of the way and I opted to see Devil's Tower, instead. 

Making the turn north to Devil's Tower made me an official member of the "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" nerd club.  There was another draw for me to see the Tower.  I had hunted here back in the late '70s and I remembered lots of deer, antelope and elk along the roadway.  This time I saw turkeys and a few deer.  The population center for the area is Moorcroft, SD about 30 miles away from the tower.  The closer I got, though, the louder the tones became, "da-dee-da-do-dum".  I did love that movie.

I was traveling west on I-90 and about 35 miles from Rapid City, South Dakota when an ear piercing alarm sounded and an idiot light came on in the middle of my dash.  It was a temperature warning and when I glanced at the water temperature it was about 225 degrees.  Being the rookie I am with diesels a pang of doubt entered my mind about the health of my pusher engine.  I slowed the temp came down, but it kept bouncing back up when a grade had to be climbed, even at 45-50 mph.  I called brother Dee who has forgotten more about driving diesels than I'll likely ever know.  He and his Jamaican buddies arrived at a joint consensus that my radiator wasn't doing its job properly.  Given the lack of previous owner maintenance I've discovered I had doubts that the radiator had ever been flushed.  Ten years is a long time in radiator years for a rig that had mostly sat idle its whole life.  Dee put me on conference call with a Rapid City, SD Freightliner Dealer called Eddie's and I arranged to spend the night in their dealer lot on "standby" in their next morning's schedule.  So, I had the radiator flushed with Cummin's flush, which I'm now told does little or nothing.  I'm told the best flush is a 45 oz box of Cascade dishwasher granules and water run at high idle.  I'll do that next if I ever overheat again.  And as a precaution against the calendar I also had them replace my thermostat.  It was late afternoon the same day when I pulled out with my Pathfinder in tow.  Figuring to put the radiator to the test I headed up into the Black Hills towards Mt. Rushmore.  It was a real test according to the service manager at Freightliner and it passed. 

Mt. Rushmore was spectacular in a patriotic way.  The statues were the same as they were when I last saw them in 1958.  It's the supporting facility built up around them that has changed.  Financed by private money a 3 million dollar complex has been built to service the millions of visitors that come each year.  And at night they put on a video show in an amphitheater that holds 3,000 visitors.  At the end of the history lesson they light up the statues and lower the Park flag with the help of veterans viewing the show.  We all sang our anthem and America the Beautiful and got misty eyed.  Who of us does not well up when the national anthem is played?  And who knew the real words to America the Beautiful were, "...purple mountain majesties..." instead of "purple mountains majesty"?  Color me wrong for the last 50 years.

Right before sundown I drove to Crazy Horse, which is the largest statue in the world, albeit the most incomplete as well.  I've got some pics of it to post as well, but those in the know say it won't be completed in our lifetime.  The face looks like Crazy Horse, though, and that's cool.  My vote would be to turn it over to the federal government and get the thing done, already.

Taken at a pull-over on I-90.  Those are the Big Horn Mountains
at sunset.  This is likely the best picture I've ever taken in my life.  It's all
about the available light and the exposure setting and, of course a heavy
DOSE of LUCK!!

Daylight is burning as they say and I'm off into the Big Horn Mountains again, only this time to take pics.  Stay tuned...  :)

"Houston, we've got a problem..."

Cruising across the vast prairie of South Dakota is an awe inspiring scene.  I stopped at one scenic overlook and it didn't take much imagination to see millions of buffalo stretching to the horizon and Sioux and Crow Indians stalking them from safe hides behind hills.  What laid before me was exactly what we all saw in the movie, "Dancing with Wolves".  It was incredible!  A persistent wind blows across this land pretty much 24/7 and while it is all quite breath taking it's also easy to see that life here in the 1800's would have been challenging.  Still, life here, at least human life, is sparse and only the occasional farm house can be seen along the Interstate.

One thing about the SD prairie is that the wind is always blowing.

The first signs I saw for Wall Drug were in Iowa coming up I-29 from St. Louis.

I had hoped to see pheasant in the cut down corn fields or maybe along the edges of the sunflower fields that were so much of a surprise.  I guess sunflower seeds we buy at the grocery have to come from someplace.  Now we know.  The flowers had already run their course, so there wasn't much color to see, but you could tell the seeds were maturing by the black centers of the flowers.  The only pheasant I've seen to this point have been dead on the side of the road and not all that many of them, either.  I was told that eastern SD is considered Meca to pheasant hunters, but that big rains at exactly the wrong time flooded out the eggs and the sitting birds.  I'm planning on a pheasant hunt in western SD.

About 30 miles from Rapid City I was cruising up and down the rolling hills when an idiot light and an audible alarm startled me from my highway trance.  I didn't recognize the icon on the dash, but soon realized from the temp gauge that my cooling water was overheated.  This was a first for me and I must confess to being somewhat concerned.  I slowed down to 45-50 mph and the temperature started back down.  I called my brother, Walter, and asked him what he thought.  He seemed to think it was a simple matter and that a flush/clean with dishwasher detergent (Cascade) would solve the problem or that maybe a thermostat might have gone bad.  The engine is, after all, 10 years old now and there are life limited accessories that will need to be occasionally replaced, right?  Alternators don't last forever and neither do thermostats and radiators.  I limped into Rapid City and found a Freightliner service center that also does motor home maintenance.  I'm there now having parked overnight in their lot.  I'm hoping they will get to me soon, but it's already almost 11 AM.  Let's keep our fingers crossed that the problem is something simple and CHEAP.  :)  I must say, though, if something like this had to happen it couldn't have happened at a more convenient place or time.  Just west of Rapid City, SD are significant hills that would have been a problem with the engine overheating and, of course, I'm eventually going up and into the norther Rockies in western Wyoming at Jackson.  I'm told those mountain passes are a challenge even for healthy cooling systems, so I would have ended up on the side of the road calling for Good Sam Roadside Assistance, again.  The shop rate here at Freightliner is $130/hr, but at this point I'm assuming they are worth it and that their expert will diagnose and solve my problem quickly.  We'll see.

Mt. Rushmore is only 30 miles away and once the motor home is fixed I'll be heading off in that direction.  It should be interesting.  The Crazy Horse monument is a little further down the road and I'll likely go and check it out, too.

The man whose dream is manifested here.

Washington, Jefferson, Teddy and Abe

Crazy Horse is the largest statue in the world, even in its incomplete state.
Notice the horse head painted on the granite.

This lady park ranger delivered a patriotic speech and we then
watched a Discovery Channel video about the four Presidents.

Six vets took part in the lowering of the flag ceremony.

These are the veterans who answered the call to the stage.  

Current events are just another reflection of the Universe taking care of me.  These events could have been much, much worse, but at this time I see only that I am being given an opportunity to take care of some necessary maintenance that probably should have been looked after years ago by the previous owner.  Let this be a lesson, though.  Generally speaking owners do not take sufficient care of their motor homes not out of neglect, but out of ignorance.  These motor homes are very complex pieces of machinery that require a certain amount of attention if you expect them to perform correctly all the time.  I expect there will always be another issue on the horizon, but hopefully through proper maintenance I'll be able to stay just ahead of it.

It should be my turn soon to pull into the diesel service garage here at Freightliner.  JD

On the road West - FINALLY!!

I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to leave Florida, but here I am getting ready for bed at an I-90 rest area in South Dakota.  I spent my first night just 20 miles from Hobe Sound just happy to be out of Floridays RV Park.  I wasn't sure I was going to be able to leave on Friday, September 14th.  After spending all day organizing and getting "road ready" the motor home had a mechanical malfunction with a jack that wouldn't retract all the way.  And when I started up and tried to pull out of my space the dual tires in the rear sank into the soft surface.  I was stuck, good and proper.  Boy, was I glad to be a member of GoodSam roadside assistance!  I called and they sent out what they called a "mini-crane", which is basically a really big tow truck with a winch.  They strapped onto the chassis and in less time than it takes to type this paragraph they had me pulled out.  Darkness was setting in by that time when I finally pulled out onto A1A.  Less than 20 miles away I pulled into an I-95 rest area and spent the night. 

This brings me to my first of two screwups of the next 24 hours.

The next morning while getting ready to pull out from the rest area I pressed the bedroom slideout button to pull it in.  I first checked for obstructions and when the slide was just about all the way in I heard a crunching sound that did not sound good.  Sure enough, I had left my laptop case with the laptop inside at the foot of the bed where it was overlooked.  The slide was now jammed.  I pressed the button again to reverse the motor and nothing happened.  My heart sank.  I went outside to inspect the slide and saw it was tight against the coach at the top, but there was a gap at the bottom of about 2-3 inches.  My first call was to Newmar in Indiana.  They offered their ideas and I then called the Newmar dealer I used for my deer damage repair to see about getting into their shop.  I talked to Tom Ansley the manager of the body shop and he said he'd get someone from the mechanical shop to help once I got there.  That was Thursday.  I arrived too late to go to the shop and made arrangements for the following morning.  That night would be spent in the same space at Flamingo Lake in Jax.  The interesting thing is that when I was setting up for the night I hit the button just to confirm the problem still existed.  The sound of the electric motor hummed the instant I pressed the button and the slide went out normally.  The Universe was, indeed, smiling.  I tested the slide a few times and was satisfied that it was fully functional.  With nothing left to worry over I had the evening to enjoy.  I was hot for blue crabs, so I went to the live crab shop and bought half a dozen of the heaviest crabs I've had in a long time.  The blue crabs that come out of the St. John's river have a sweet flavor and are heavier than their salt water brethren because they don't have to hibernate living in the food rich and warmer brackish water in the winter time.  I boiled them 10 minutes and chilled them under tap water to prevent over cooking.  Being on a diet meant no melted butter, but who needs butter when they've got Cajun seasoning mixed in with apple vinegar.  I called Tom the next morning and he wished me luck on my trip.  The second of my screwups was while leaving Flamingo Lake RV Park.  I had every tucked away and the Pathfinder was hitched to the tow bar.  All was good to that point.  But, while beginning my pullout towards the gate a park employee ran up to my side window and motioned for me to stop.  I asked what the problem was and he told me there was a shrieking noise coming from the Nissan.  All I could think was, "Lord, why me"?  I got out to inspect the toad (vehicle towed) and, sure 'nuff, I had left the parking brake on.  I must have been born under a favorable star because I was must a minute away from pulling out onto I-295.  Can you imagine the plume of  smoke that would have trailed from under the Nissan had I not been stopped from leaving? 

I spent the next night just south of Macon Georgia sandwiched between big rig trucks at a truck stop.  Nothing to report of note.  I must say, though, it was nice to wake up that morning "on the road" and still find I was home.  At some time over the last 8 months I had made a transition in my thinking.  The Dutch Star was now more than a mere vehicle.  It had become a most comfortable home.  Just imagine installing wheels under your house or apartment and waking up to a different scene every morning.  It's a really cool feeling and it wasn't difficult to imagine the potential that lay before me.  I was truly on my way now, Yellowstone or bust! 

The next day was spent keeping it between the lines and the scenery just got better and better.  I was in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and watching jaw dropping vistas drifting past my windshield.  I had long since decided that being on permanent vacation had to mean a leisurely pace.  I try to never exceed 60 mph, which I believe provides close to optimal fuel mileage.  Going slower than all the other traffic also has another benefit.  By letting everyone pass me there is a naturally occurring significant gap created between the motor home and the traffic in front of me.  Out of necessity I've had to become very safety conscious and I figured the traffic gap is exactly what I needed.  The Dutch Star weighs in at 32,000 pounds and stopping isn't its long suit.  I've seen an RV graveyard in Missouri and it doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out how those crashed and burned out hulks found their way to becoming salvage.  It would kill the motor home manufacturing industry, but I'd favor states requiring a special license before allowing people like me behind the wheel.  I'm feeling pretty comfortable driving on the Interstates, but it's still a handful and not a vehicle to drive while distracted. 

The next days drive would be a combination of country and city driving.  Approaching St. Louis was interesting because I passed an exit on I-64 that read, "Lebanon/Moscuta/Scott AFB".  We had been stationed at Scott from 1958-1962 and we had lived in Lebanon nearly the whole time.  I was tempted to pull off and go and see the 'ole homestead, but I resisted.  Been there, done that.  Instead, I drove headlong into the maze that is the St. Louis highway system.  I wanted to take a picture of the arch, but it went by too fast.  I was shocked at what I saw of east St. Louis on the west side of the river.  It looked like what I imagined parts of London or Liverpool looked like after the Nazi V-2 bombings.  Block after block of red brick commercial buildings stood vacant and in a sad state of dilapidation.  This was old, original St. Louis close to the river where so much commercial boat or barge traffic took place.  It doesn't take all that much imagination to envision how it used to be back in the day.  Turn of the century St. Louis must have been quite a thriving place, but the next century wasn't being so kind.  I've never seen a section of town more in need of being torn down.  You have to see west St. Louis to see progress and affluence.  I can't remember what the city is famous for, except Budweiser and Cardinal baseball.  I do remember attending the circus as a child.  I wonder if the circus still comes to town?  Driving north out of the city with its horrible, cracked pavement highways I finally broke free north of town.  I don't normally take note of airports I drive by, but the big airport there has runways that are built in rolling hills.  I've landed light airplanes on hilly runways before and it's actually quite fun in a challenging kind of way.  The important thing is to fly the airplane parallel to the contours before setting her down.  I could just imagine how it must be to land an airliner there and I smiled.  I  was smiling a lot of late.

I would make it to southwestern Iowa the next evening.  The scenery had changed pretty dramatically.  I was now in corn country, but disappointed at the view.  It's one thing to hear news reports about a drought and quite another to see it first hand.  Mid September is corn harvest time across the mid-west and the corn should have been 7 feet tall.  What was passing before me looked to be about belt high.  I don't know if the crops were a total loss, but the combines were out cutting it all down in giant swaths of perfectly even rows.  There is a kind of beauty and symmetry inherent in the process that you just don't see anywhere else.  I suppose cutting a lush lawn that had grown too high would be somewhat similar.  The cool thing about corn harvest time is they run the combines 24/7.  Passing in the night I could see islands of very bright light out in the middle of the fields shrouded in dust kicked up by the machinery.  It was eerily beautiful and a most unusual sight for these city eyes used to street lamps and higher density population centers.  The next morning I spent enjoying a movie along with my morning cup of coffee.  I would get a late start because I recorded the movie, Beaches.  If you've not cried at the movies in a while then you've not watched Beaches lately.  I'm always amazed at the crap that comes out of movie studios, but Beaches is certainly the exception.  My brother the professional writer tells me that tear jerker movies are basically formulaic and not all that difficult to write.  Be it as it may, I'm still a sucker for a good tear jerker plot. 

Tonight I'm in a rest stop just outside of Lyle, South Dakota.  My slides are out and I'm watching "The Rainmaker" on Dish.  Tomorrow I expect to be taking pictures of Mt. Rushmore and driving through some beautiful countryside to get there.  From there I'll get back on I-90 and drive to Wind Cave National Park and stay the night.  I don't know what to expect there.  This will be the first National Park for me on this trip and I'm a little excited.  I bought an annual pass that is supposed to gain me entrance into all the nation's National Parks.  This area of South Dakota is known for its Indian tribes; Crow and Sioux headquarters are here.  Driving over the rolling hills I can just imagine millions of buffalo stretching to the horizon and Indians hunting from the high ground following the giant herds across the prairie.  It must have been an awe inspiring sight.  It's no wonder that the Indians are so resentful.  They lived for literally thousands of years in harmony with the land and in less than 50 years in the 19th century everything they valued was stripped away from them.  I'm going to be visiting Custer's last stand in Montana and even before I get there I feel a great empathy for the Indians who were so wronged by our US government.  It took massive rationalizations for White America to stand mute while the indigenous peoples were systematically slaughtered.  But, that's an old story and I won't belabor any points that could be rightfully made on behalf of the Indians.  It's just a shame that a once proud people have been reduced to being on governmental welfare for the last 150 years.  Most injustice in this world is beyond the control of mere individuals.  I guess all we can really do is recognize when wrongs have been done and accept responsibility as should be dictated by our social conscience.  Some complain that the Indians are not entitled.  I say they deserve everything they've gotten and more.  We've not only displaced whole civilizations, but we've turned them into tribes of drunks predisposed to alcoholism.

I've been looking at 10 day weather reports for Grand Tetons National Park and Yellowstone and it looks to be a sunny week coming up with highs in the 60's and lows in the 20's.  I guess that's the kind of temperature range you see in the mountains.  I'm just hoping against hope that it doesn't snow early in the northern Rockies.  I'd hate to get caught ill prepared for snow.  I considered going a more southern route on I-80, but then I wouldn't get to experience the vista of the approaching upheaval of the Grand Tetons.  I'm told this section of the northern Rockies does not have any foothills.  Down south out of Denver you have to pass over the foothills before you get to the big mountain peaks.  Up in Jackson the big peaks just erupt out of the prairie.  It's something to look forward to, for sure.