The North Cascades

After posting last night, Ruthie and I took Odie out for one last walk. We discovered that our hotel backed up to a lovely riverside park and greenway with paths on both sides of the Spokane River. We saw skateboards, motorized scooters, bikes and pedestrians enjoying the mild evening and beautiful views. Part of the greenway included an exhibit of bronze sculptures recounting the people who built Spokane including this coal miner and a statue of one of the nuns who literally helped build

the first hospital. 

In a post from last year's trip to Canada, there is a picture of a statue in Rockwood Park, in St John, NB, to the industrial workers who were killed "building the nation". As someone who lost her husband to a workplace accident in a state that didn't seem to care, I found that statue deeply moving. I found it heartening here to see workers recognized for their role in creating Spokane and a rich addition to this already wonderful space. The lovely park and the cool evening air were a pleasant transition from the stress of the parking garage incident, which, by the way, ended well this morning. With Ruthie's guidance, I cleared the last three pipes--by barely an inch--but we did it and without having to let air out of the tires or remove the overpacked roof rack. Whew.

After four days of hard driving on the Interstate, we spent today driving two lane

back roads, including several scenic highways, across northern Washington State to Bellingham, about 30 minutes from where I am to pick up the trailer mid-day tomorrow.

We left Spokane on US 2. I'm not sure what I was expecting but it was not the incredible rolling farmland west of the city. And, while I did expect some wilderness, I was startled at how sparsely populated the countryside became just outside the city and everywhere else we were today. The farms were huge. We saw very few farm houses. We saw endless fields of grain and equally large areas tilled but not planted. We passed through areas where the fields were interrupted by lava flows and where farmers simply plowed around outcroppings of volcanic rock. But where we did see residences, the farms and farm buildings were well maintained and neatly kept.

Grand Coolee

The further west we got, the more arid the land became. Ruthie took this picture trying to capture all the textures of the land around us. We passed Grand Coolee Dam and later, Chief Joseph Dam which was surrounded by miles of fruit orchards made possible by even more miles of irrigation line. To conserve space and water, the trees were planted extremely close together and many were simply grafts supported by rows of fence wire like you might use to support beans here.  But the trees were incredibly prolific and we passed industrial scale packing houses up and down the road.

Irrigated patches of orchard 

The road followed the Columbia river for quite a while. The river itself was clear and clean. Power lines left both dams and traveled to the horizon. The town across the river from Coolee Dam is named Electric City. Orchards and dam maintenance appeared to be the only viable employment although we did see rafters on the river at one point.

Chief Joseph Dam

The further west and away from the river we traveled, the more arid the land became until it was nothing but sage brush--until we approached the steep, fir covered slopes of the North Cascade Mountains. 

We took the North Cascades Scenic Highway to and through the North Cascades National Park. It is impossible to capture the grandeur of these rugged mountains topped with glaciers. We had fun trying, but you just need to make this drive and see 

them for yourself.

Today was the first time we encountered any holiday traffic this trip. The drive through the park was spectacular and the traffic appeared light, but once through the park, apparently we got caught up in the stream of folks heading home after the holiday. That said, we are safe in Bellingham, waiting on instructions for picking up the trailer tomorrow. The trip home will be an amble. We are ready for a break.

Life being about the unexpected...

About two and a half hours west of Billings and just west of Bozeman, at the town of Three Forks, is what seems to be Ruthie's favorite place on the planet. We've been to Montana twice and have been to Wheat Montana three times now. If she can figure out how to get us by on the way home, it will be four. And I don't blame her. It's a pretty special place. It is a grain elevator, flour mill and bakery. It's the bakery part that brings us back. Cinnamon buns the size of pie plates and delicious. Ruthie got into hers in the car then worried if she put her mask on, it would stick.

I got a BLT on a flaky croissant that melted in my mouth, followed by an equally light and flaky cherry turnover. So the day started really well....THAT we expected.

A bit later, when I got sleepy driving (that, too, was expected), I pulled off at the next exit to trade drivers. There wasn't an immediate on-ramp so we had to drive through the little town of Deer Lodge. What we didn't expect was a wonderful lesson in history. The kids and their dad, and now I by association, are big railfans. Much is made of the completion of the first

transcontinental railroad with the golden spike driven in at Promontory Summit, Utah. Apparently, the last transcontinental railroad was completed in 1909 and the last spike driven in Deer Lodge, a mile and a half east of the golden spike. It was fun finding an article about it online and sending it to Ben.

In addition, Deer Lodge is home to the Montana state prison. An older version of the prison has been turned into a museum. We didn't stop to go

inside, but it looked intriguing. The town was also full of charming old buildings and nice shops. Very worth a stop in a time after pandemic.

The rest of the trip was almost uneventful. Western Montana and Idaho are full of mountain ranges and lovely scenery. We drove through Lolo National Forest just north of where Lewis and Clark (and last year, we) crossed the treacherous Bitterroot Mountains at Lolo Pass. And the Interstate followed the first wagon road to cross the Rocky Mountains to the interior of the northwest. The Mullan Road was built by US Army troups under the command of Lt. John Mullan. On July 4th in 1861, Mullan and his troups celebrated the nation's birthday on a mountain they named July 4th Summit. I-90 now passes through July 4th Pass, and today, so did we.

We made it to our goal for today--the Doubletree Hotel in Spokane. We're staying at Hilton properties because of their sanitation practices and this was the only one in the area that took pets. It's at a huge convention center and parking is in a garage beneath the complex. We managed to get well into the parking garage before

realizing that the thudding we heard was our rooftop carrier striking the pipes (fortunately flexible, as is the carrier) for the fire system. THAT was totally unexpected. Ruthie flagged down the security guard who helped us navigate to a spot near the exit with no damage to pipes or truck, but we have three left to pass under to get out in the morning. Fingers crossed.

The idea of purchasing this trailer seemed so simple at first. The Escape folks helped me find exactly what I was looking for and at a very fair price. The owners of the trailer are lovely folks who have been very helpful. But this whole process has been fraught with the most ridiculous complications and frustrations. When I got the news that the paperwork was complete, I foolishly presumed we were home free. It appears that the Universe is funning with me still. I will pause, choose to grin, and proceed. We have been blessed to get safely this far and all other obstacles have eventually been resolved. As a friend's bumper sticker reads, "Oh s___, another learning experience"...Stay tuned.

North by Northwest

Virginia road sign

It's July 3 and I'm writing this from Billings, MT. We left out July 1 and have had 3 long, hard days on the road. The Virginia DOT enjoined travelers to behave this holiday weekend with this humorous sign and we have enjoyed other, similar admonitions from other states.

On I29 through Iowa, we found ourselves on the Lewis & Clark trail again, following the Missouri River. When we got to Chamberlain, SD, we stopped at a rest stop and were met with this magnificent statue honoring Native American culture and particularly their women. The statue, named Dignity, stands 50 feet tall. The diamonds in her star quilt are hinged to allow air through. She is smiling and strong as

Dignity

she overlooks the Missouri River. 

Ruthie and I have been discussing our Lewis and Clark trip of last summer. We stopped following the L&C trail at Lolo Pass in Idaho and then headed south before turning home. This time, while not specifically following Lewis and Clark, we will be heading on to the Pacific Coast as they did and not far from where they ended up. We will make the trip west in 5 days and maybe take a couple of weeks to amble back home. Meriweather Lewis was from Virginia. He and Clark took over a year and a half to make their round trip. They faced all kinds of weather, unfriendly natives, swarms of insects, waterfalls, supply shortages and all manner of challenges. I'm doing my best not to fuss about excessive fanny fatigue and dry skin from hand sanitizer. It's an amazing country and I'm grateful to have the chance to see it like this, but I'm feeling my age and not regretting a bit wanting to buy a more comfortable camper and choosing to amble once I have it.

Indiana

In addition to the endless grain fields and enormous sky, we've seen some fun things on the road. As folks moved west, Quakers in particular, took their home town names with them and used them again. 

We've seen road signs for familiar towns back home and

Iowa

other eastern communities we've recognized, including Pittsboro where I used to live and Pekin where my son and future daughter-in-law now live. But the best sign we've seen was for a saloon on a back road in South Dakota advertising Cheap Drinks and Lousy Food. Since they were literally the only option for miles, the locals had little choice. At least they were honest. 

Another South Dakota road sign read, "In wine there is wisdom. In water there

Honesty as best policy in action

is bacteria. Wobbly Bobby Beer".  It left me wondering whether to worry more about drunk drivers or drinking the water. Fortunately, we appear to have been kept safe from both.

A peculiarity of Montana is the coincidence of restaurants and gambling casinos. We noted this on our visit last year. Nearly every restaurant we visited or drove by last summer had a casino in the restaurant (not the other way around). Growing up Methodist, gambling was frowned upon so I'm no expert on casinos but I have to say eating my apple pie just around the corner from the slot machines was disorienting. But nothing beat the picture Ruthie took today as we scooted towards Billings. Do not ask. I have no clue.

 

We are off early tomorrow for Spokane via Wheat Montana. I can only hope the giant cinnamon buns are as good as I remember them. Please keep us in your thoughts as we continue. The broker emailed to say all the import paperwork was in order. The last big job is picking up the trailer and navigating safely home.

Chapter II

Soon to be LibraryAnn II

So a new chapter begins. As happened to many folks, COVID put an end to our travel plans this summer. The uncertainty about how the virus is spread along with the unwillingness of some to follow public health advice left me leery of continuing to use public bath facilities at campgrounds. And lots of our Canadian reservations were cancelled because of travel restrictions. So Ruthie and I decided just to cancel everything and take a pause to reconsider how we might safely travel. 

LibraryAnn has a wet bath but I'd never tried using it as it is sooooo small and I'd only just had the hot water heater upgraded. So Ruthie and I booked a weekend at Fairy Stone in Virginia to see if we could camp without using the public bath house. We discovered a couple of things. One is that the wet bath works just fine now that I have a reliable hot water heater. The other is that our holding tanks were full after two days. Most state and federal parks do not have sewer hookups--a problem as these are the places I most enjoy meeting up with family who will also need to avoid the bath house. And as I got to thinking about it, now that my family is growing, the 4 person dinette didn't allow us to all share a table, either. As much as I've loved learning to use the old girl, it was looking like I'd outgrown her. 

I began a search for a larger ultralight molded fiberglass trailer I could still pull with my truck. I have always admired the all-season Canadian made trailers and I contacted the Escape company in British Columbia hoping to find a used one. They don't sell used trailers but they put me in touch with a customer needing to sell their 2016 fifth wheel Escape 5--just the trailer I was wanting! It has a bigger bath, bigger holding tanks, MUCH more storage and has a U shaped dinette we can all share. I cannot even attempt to describe the gauntlet I have run trying to import this trailer across a closed border. That said, Ruthie and I are on our way to Sumas, WA, hoping the import broker really has accomplished all the paperwork so that we can pick up LibraryAnn II on

July 6 and bring her to her new home. 

Oh, and did I mention I've adopted a little rescue dog? Odie travels with us, exploring the rest stops and learning hotel manners. 

My trusty Scamp is in the hands of a couple from Archdale. The husband is a retired truck mechanic who will see to it she has many good miles to come. Ruthie, Odie and I are anxiously awaiting word from the broker as we head west to meet our new friend.

Another season ends

Pickin' in the Pines

It has been a very full season despite some cancellations due to weather and a cold. I estimate I've driven the intrepid gal 13,000 miles this summer. While the scenery afar has been lovely, the best part of any of the trips has been the company of family and friends. And this very special season ended with two very special trips.

My son works for the Millstone 4H Camp and Conference Center in Ellerbe, NC. I cannot tell you how important 4H was to both my children, both in terms of developing their skills and interests, and in developing their work ethic and character. It was like having an army of parenting support after their dad died. My gregarious son has friends across the state from his 4H

Chatham Rabbits

involvement and continues contact with many of those good folks through his employment, first at the Betsy Jeff Penn Center, and now at Millstone. It's like one big statewide family. So, of course, I was glad to buy a ticket to Millstone's annual fundraiser for camp scholarships, Pickin' in the Pines. Mark your calendar for the third Saturday in October. Your ticket gets you a meal of the best BBQ I have ever had, as much craft beer as you care to consume, and three hours of local bluegrass from a variety of groups including, this year, the Chatham Rabbits. And if you don't care to make the drive home, you can rent a cabin and stay over. As Ben is the property manager, he wrangled me an RV site. The event is typically outdoor, but rain threatened so it was moved indoors and under tents.

Hungry Mother Park Creekside Entrance

Ben spent the afternoon hanging lights to cheer up the place against a very overcast sky. Turns out, the rain was light and spirits were high and they made enough to send a passel of kids to camp.

My last trip of the year was to Hungry Mother state park in Virginia with my friend, Cathy Holt. We took the boats, hoping to paddle despite knowing that the lake would be lowered for bridge repairs and the weekend promised rain. We've had such crazy weather here, there's not been much color. Virginia more than made up for it. At the last minute, Ben and Sydney chose to join us. We ate well, walked the glorious woods, and ambled home early when high winds threatened. We managed a good visit, though, and

Cathy trying my walking sticks

enjoyed a "found" day of quiet at home on Sunday. So I leave you until next spring with the pictures below. Have a cozy winter, wonderful holidays, and hopeful new year! See you on the road in 2020! (as always, click on any picture to enlarge it)

Deep woods

Old friends are the best

On the lake loop trail

All together

Our neighbor's "pet"

Happy Cathy!

Peace on earth

Hungry Mother Lake from the beach

Fall pallet

Columbus Day?

Tin can banjos for sale

I have mixed feelings about the controversy between Columbus Day and Indigenous Peoples Day, but I'm pretty clear that having a national museum closed on a minor holiday when folks might actually have the day off to visit is a really dumb idea. Particularly when the choice to remain closed is not evident on the website. It was Google and Yelp that informed us, not the site itself nor the message on their answering machine. Sigh.

Ruthie is moving and I have had a week of contractors behind me and a week coming up so we decided we'd claim a "found" day and head home. On the way in to Cincinnati, we stopped again at the lovely town of Metamora,

Lunch!

IN to visit the shops, pet the draft horses, shoo the ducks and admire the only wooden aquaduct still functioning in America.

We were hungry and when we asked around we were directed to The Smelly Gourmet. The menu was pretty limited to a ribeye sandwich with caramelized onions which was pretty good. But the real discovery was their "hull-less" popcorn. Apparently Smelly's (we didn't ask) nephew, in deference to folks suffering from diverticulitis, developed and now cultivates hull-less varieties of popcorn. I have

Main Street

brought a bag home to try but if the caramel corn I had for dessert was any indication, I may be mail ordering my popcorn from now on. The stuff was good and my dentist should have no complaints. I took the picture of their wall of tin can banjos for my son who used to enjoy making them and teaching his fellow 4Hers how to make and play them. At $32 a pop, he might should get into making them again.

My grandmother Burnside's family came from Metamora, the Gordons. Any history of Metamora starts with their incorporation in 1838. My late friend and

Little Free Library

amateur historian, Bill Dow, years ago sent me an article about a Scottish experimental community by the name of Metamora. Wish I could find it. My Gordon ancestors were mentioned. Indiana, at one time, was full of experimental communities--communes long before the age of hippies. Residents shared property and all worked for the community good, until they didn't and my great something grandparents moved away

Horse drawn canal boat

and in 1835 build my grandmother's house. I have asked several times, and searched the Internet for the history of Metamora before 1838. Either the town is ashamed of their hippie past or the Scottish community was located somewhere else, but family lore has it as the Metamora we visited. The shops and scenery are fun and we make a point to visit whenever we are in the area. That said, the state of the buildings and the merchandise for sale indicate the difficult economic situation of the local farmers that might visit for a Sunday afternoon to ride the canal boat or the

How a canal crosses a creek

steam train with their grandkids.

We did enjoy the good food. And we bought some stone ground cornmeal from the water-powered grist mill. We didn't buy any chatchkas this trip but I suspect we'll be back to support them as we can. They are working hard to keep this town of 188 going. And they do bother to keep the correct hours on their website...

Mill dam at the start of the canal

Searching again for Fall

Jordan Lake courtesy Flickr

You may recall our search for fall colors last year. My ordinarily lovely maple trees went straight to brown last fall. We'd had flooding from hurricanes last year. This year, it is wicked drought. It's a little early for fall color at home but many trees are just brown. It's disconcerting.

Ironton Bridge

Last weekend, I booked a campsite at Crosswind Point at Jordan Lake. I was hoping to catch up with the Randolph Ramblers club. Apparently, no one but me booked for the meetup so folks went their different ways. I don't regret the weekend, though. On Friday night, I paddled at sunset with my friend, Cathy who lives nearby. Ruthie joined us after dark for supper. And Ruthie and I hiked and paddled on Saturday. Ruthie is in the middle of moving, Cathy was just off traveling and then having company for a week, and I have been dealing with contractors and we were all three exhausted. The peace of the woods and the water is always healing, something we depend on. It was painful seeing the woods around us so

Near West Union, OH

stressed by the tremendous heat and dry weather this late into the fall.

This past Thursday, Ruthie and I headed up to the Fiberglass RV Rally we'd attended last year in Brown County State Park. We left town on the heels of Hurricane Matthew last year. This year we arrived in Indiana in gentle rain, but the drought has affected the midwest, too. Despite the rain, the fire risk remained elevated. That

Rural Ohio church

said, we are seeing the beginnings of fall here.

We raced up to Huntington WV to spend the first night. The trip really began for us when we crossed the Ironton-Russell Bridge at Ironton, OH on the Ohio River. My favorite route to Indiana is on US 52 which runs along the Ohio River through old river towns from near Huntington into Cincinnati. In addition to the river views, the towns are full of historic buildings

Grant's Birthplace

and old homes we so enjoy. This year, there was a lengthy detour which took us away from the river but through other old communities we'd not visited before. It also took us past the entrance to Edge of Appalachia, a private nature preserve of 20,000 acres protecting  the biodiversity of fragile ecosystems at the base of the Appalachian escarpment. And we passed President Grant's birthplace.

Grant Memorial Bridge

We had lunch at a Frisch's Big Boy, a memory from childhood. The rain started after that and continued into the night. We had a small panic at the camp site. The electricity did not come on when we plugged in. It was after 5p and getting dark and expected to drop into the 30s. Kudos to the Indiana State Park system. We called the ranger station and an electrician appeared and replaced the circuit breakers in the park's electrical box serving our site. Our relief at having heat was considerable. To celebrate, instead of cooking,

Guess who?

we headed up to the Abe Martin Lodge for their fried chicken buffet and amazing cobblers. We slept warm and well last night.

We did see some fall color. Brown County's moniker is "The Little Smokys" and they do resemble our Appalachian mountains back home. Most of Indiana is flat--a gateway to The Great Plains, but the glaciers stopped here in southern Indiana, leaving this ridge of hills with impressive vistas and intimate winding roads. There are lots of log cabins--old and new--including old barns and newer vacation homes. The town of Nashville, IN is a resort and artist's community. We poked around Nashville in the morning. After lunch we enjoyed an engaging visit with some of the

Abe Martin Lodge

fiberglass campers gathered here for their small, annual rally.

There rally organizers planned a pot luck supper at 5p which left us just enough time to go hunt down a couple of covered bridges. Indiana is home to 98 covered bridges, including 14 built before 1870. There is an unusual two lane covered bridge at the entrance to the park (RVs go in through another entrance). We located that, then set out to find the

The Little Smokys

1808 Bean Blossom Covered Bridge. I was glad for the practice driving Lemhi Pass last month, the road was steep and narrow. We made it just fine, though I wondered at the effort a horse would require pulling a wagon. And I guess those old Model Ts were pretty tough, but I was glad for a modern truck and did use the 4WD down the grade.

You may recall Decision Point on the Lewis & Clark Trail. It's a national historic site where the Marias River joins the

Log barn

Missouri, so named because the boys had to make a decision which way to go (apparently a common problem throughout their trip whenever a new river joined up with the Missouri). Many of our stops on the Lewis & Clark trail were these river confluences with historic markers playing up the drama. Somehow, our intrepid heroes always figured which way to go. So we were tickled to see a sign to Hesitation Point inside

Door to the Nashville Arts Guild

Brown County State Park and had to see where it went. It's actually a trailhead to a vista on Kin Hubbard Ridge which we may hike tomorrow. Kin Hubbard was a humorist who created cartoons and sayings based on his old mountain man character, Abe Martin. Brown County State Park and the Abe Martin Lodge were dedicated to the memory of Kin Hubbard whose dry wit entertained Hoosiers for years. I have enjoyed my grandfather's old Kin Hubbard books and though it's been a while since I read them, I vaguely recall Hesitation Point being the vista where a fella took his girlfriend to propose. We can only hope their success matched that of Meri & Bill.

The pot luck was great. TOO much good food, lots of friendly folks, including a

Sidewalk at the Arts Guild

woman who reminded me last year she wanted to buy my Scamp when I was ready to sell and made sure I had her phone number again. The heat is on, the trailer is cozy and we have had our bit of fall color.

Tomorrow we head down to Cincinnati via Metamora, IN. We'll poke around the old shops and viaduct in Metamora, set up camp in North Bend, OH and spend Monday exploring the Underground Railroad Museum in Cincy. Levi Coffin, a member of New Garden Friends Meeting in Greensboro, just up the street (Friendly Avenue, no less) from First Friends, where I now attend, was called the President of the Underground Railroad. The museum in

Brown County State Park North Entrance

Cincinnati is located near where slaves crossed the Ohio River to freedom until laws were tightened and the Canadian border became their goal. I know a little of the history but am looking to learn more. Max Carter of Guilford College gives walks and talks through the New Garden Meeting and Guilford College campuses pointing out where the railroad passed through there and how escaping slaves were hidden and directed on to the next safe place. We'll make the trip home from

1808 Bean Blossom Bridge

Cincy to Greensboro in the course of a day and be grateful we don't have to make it by dark and on foot. That said, I look forward to reporting on what more we learn on Monday.

Hesitation Point