BLOG DELAY

I did way too much today and had all kinds of fabulous experiences and got in very late tonight.

Now I have to sleep.

Stay tuned.....today's events will get posted along with more photos at my earliest opportunity.

HEAVEN IS IN MONTANA

Townsend, Montana

The best thing I brought on this trip is a tiny voice recorder.  I keep it on the console, along with my phone and camera.  Because I have no memory, the recorder is perfect for recording things I see and impressions I have as I drive and provides a means for documenting the photos I take along the way.  Of course it helps if the memory card is in the camera when I am taking pictures -- but that's another story.

I spent most of my day driving across Montana.  Even at 75 mph I didn't make it all the way across.  It could be done, but it would be a marathon drive and that was never my intention.  As I saw markers for the Lewis and Clark Trail I couldn't help but think of them walking and traveling by river through these very same places. When you look at the terrain here it's clear why they stuck to the flat valleys and rivers, rather than traversing the higher hills. It's a wonder they made it. I have a new appreciation for their exploration and mapping of so much of the West. It's been 200 years since they trekked here -- which doesn't seem all that long ago.

In Eastern Montana the corn fields have already been harvested so you only see the golden stubble in the fields.  The day is overcast but it's not raining.  I am wearing my jacket because the temperature is in the low 60s.  Much of the landscape is grey, partly because of the weather, but also because of the drought.  The hills are dotted with sage brush, light bluish-greenish-grey scrubby bushes low to the ground.  It's so familiar from Eastern Washington and Idaho in this almost desert-like country but clumps of trees provide green all across the landscape.  I saw three black cows grazing in a harvested wheat field.  The contrast of those black cows and yellow stubble was really kind of neat. I wish I could have stopped to get a photo, but these scenes happen so quickly at at 75 mph, which is the speed limit here.  By the time I come to a stop, the scene has changed.

Some fields look like alfalfa just beginning to grow; they've probably already been cut and baled a couple of times this summer.  Or the plants could be potatoes -- it's difficult to tell from a distance. Some of the bigger trees here are bluish grey like sage brush but obviously they're trees so I'm not sure of their variety. I go from driving to the tops of plateaus where you can see for a long distance to dropping back down in the valley where the fields are very flat. There are huge long sprinkler systems on wheels that irrigate the fields.  Without the irrigation there is not be enough water to support the agriculture.

The Yellowstone River near Pompey's Pillar

Pompey's Pillar

I stopped to visit Pompey's Pillar, a large outcropping of rock, where Lewis and Clark stopped to view the landscape ahead.  The Yellowstone River, which was their main means of transportation in this area, flows nearby.  Cottonwood trees stand in groves along the banks on one side; tall badlands-type cliffs border the other side.

The Crazy Mountains

The Absaroka Range and the Yellowstone River

I had been watching new mountains in the distance, then I came around a curve and the mountain range filled my view across the horizon near Big Timber.  They are called the Crazy Mountains.  Yellowstone National Park is just south of where I am. The mountains are fabulous and nearly impossible to photograph.  The camera loses the three-dimensional quality and some of the color.  I tried to etch the image in my brain -- I don't ever want to forget this view.  The mountains are a very dark bluish purple with light wheat fields at their base.  The clouds sit on top of the highest peaks. Not far down the road, I see the Absaroka Range on my left. It's difficult to watch the road with mountains like these.

I leave the interstate to drive towards Townsend, my Dad's childhood town.  Even on the two-lane highway, the speed limit is 70.  The road is flat and straight and there is little traffic.  For the first time today I begin to see fields with large herds of cattle.  I am sure there are cattle all across Montana but these are the first ones I've seen from the highway. There are mountains on every side of me -- what a wonderful distraction!!  It's rained a bit, the sun is out, the clouds come and go, sometimes it's windy.  So far no snow.  However, a road sign says there is an area ahead to put on tire chains -- a good reality check.  Snow fences sit just off the highway to catch drifting snow as I head into the mountains. I am grateful I'm not making this drive in the snow.

As I cross the mountains into Townsend I am in almost total evergreen forest.  Up until now, most of the trees have been cottonwoods and other deciduous, some with leaves beginning to turn.

The highlight of the day was meeting 95-year-old Louise, Dad's childhood neighbor in Toston, Montana.  Her niece, Terey, and Terey's sister-in-law Nora came as well.  Louise initially said she didn't remember much of Dad's family, then she told me about Dad, his sister Frances, his brother Jim, and his dad Will. Pretty amazing since she is five years younger than Dad, they lived a mile away, and they weren't neighbors for very many years. We talked about the work horses, the house and  barn.  My stories fit with some of the remembrances of Terey's brothers who had met my parents back in the 1960's.

My only regret is I didn't bring early pictures of Dad's family and farmstead with me.  I was so concerned with getting all of Mother's things in the car, that I simply didn't think of bringing his archives for purposes of connection and conversation.  And I wish I had looked up some of the pertinent dates before I left which would have helped us put the pieces together.  I will know better for the next trip -- which I am hoping will be next year.

I am meeting Louise in the morning for more conversation.  What a sharp, delightful lady!!

MEANDERINGS

This post is a compilation of stuff that didn't fit any place else.

Notes to friends and relatives:

• Adam:  2070 miles, 27.4 mpg.  Most of the interstate driving is at 75 mph.  I have the econ button on, but the speedometer bars are half green, half white.  I am sure a slower speed would be more fuel efficient.  The car is doing well.
• Charlie: at the Heritage Center in Bismarck I saw reference to the Metis and thought of you.  I looked for a book on the subject, but according the research librarian, one does not exist.
• Fred:  the local lambchops with rosemary and garlic sauce were fabulous in Miles City.
• Shawna; I hope your students are enjoying the photos
• Myself:  return to North Dakota to visit the Lewis and Clark sites and horseback ride in the badlands

The C'mon Inn in Fargo, ND:  I was skeptical of the hotel, just because of the name, though it looked o.k. on the internet.  Turns out this chain is in Montana as well.  The rooms center around a two story atrium with trees and tables and lounge chairs and hot tubs.  An indoor pool is just off to the side.  A simple buffet dinner was available to all guests. I totally enjoyed the pool and hot tub! I was pleasantly surprised with the entire place.

Fargo was my first night by myself since I left home a week ago.  So, I took the opportunity to restock my snacks and veggies in the car.  The only problem was I didn't see anything that looked like a grocery store or had a name I recognized.  I finally asked at Culver's while I was enjoying my frozen custard with raspberries.  The clerk rattled off the name of a couple of stores, but also pointed to a Wal-Mart nearby.  I opted for that, since it had groceries and I didn't have to struggle to find it.  Besides the grocery stores not being recognizable, most of the gas brands are different as well. And across North Dakota, any gas stations are few and far between.

In Miles City, at the recommendation of the B&B owner, I had dinner at the Rib and Chop House.  As I scanned the menu, intending to try something local, I found fried green tomatoes, Louisiana jambalaya, and gumbo.  Not exactly what I had in mind.  Most of the other things were the same as what I can get at home:  steaks, pork chops, shrimp, ribs, and such.  The menu said the lamb chops were local; being a lamb lover, that seemed like a logical choice.  The chops were sizzling hot, with a fabulous garlic and rosemary sauce.

In the cities and towns I've been in so far, I find most of the stores are exactly the same stores we have at home.  In a way, it seems more and more difficult to find regional differences in some things.  The hotel and restaurant brands are mostly the same as well.  The advantage is you know what to expect.  The disadvantage is that the experiences are always the same. I am staying in B&B's for the main purpose of meeting people and learning more about the local areas.  And for dinners I am determined to eat in new places.

We're caught up now!!Another post will follow shortly.

LEAVING FARGO, ND

Yesterday's rolling hills of western Minnesota have begun to flatten in eastern North Dakota. It's 61 degrees so fall has already come to these parts.  The fields are dotted with rolled hay, other fields have been plowed in preparation for winter. 

When the GPS says "stay on the road for over 400 miles" I know it's a long day, but I'm not thinking about it being long.  I'm thinking about appreciating what I see: the vastness of the sky, the vastness of the cornfields, the people who live out here and farm these fields.  We all benefit from their work so why wouldn't I appreciate where they are and what their life is here because we all need what they do.  So I'm thinking about the beauty of the prairie flatness, the trees scattered here and there, and the humongous sky that is absolutely cloudless and pale blue. 


Ponds, some small, some large almost like lakes, are scattered among the fields.  Near Medina I saw a cobalt blue pond surrounded by golden yellow fields -- absolutely spectacular.

If I had my box of crayons today I would be using cobalt for the ponds and small lakes, goldenrod for the fields, lime green for fields of new growth, desert sand for the hay bales, bronze or copper for the drying corn stalks. Some fields look like corduroy with wide strips of chocolate and camel, created by the harvesters' paths. And there are acres upon acres of sunflowers.

North Dakota State Capitol

I spent not nearly enough time in Bismarck, seeing the capitol and the heritage center before continuing the journey west. Before long the terrain began to include hills and buttes and outcroppings of higher places.  The wind began to pick up and the sky filled with small puffy clouds and the wind is picking up.

At Medora, in the Theodore Roosevelt Park, the scenery changed again, becoming more dramatic:  the painted valley, the colorful badlands, rough and rugged and steep and mountainous. Minerals and metals in the earth create the colors and patterns.

Near the Montana border, I passed an exit sign that said, "Home on the Range."  Now you know it's a real place -- not something made up for a song many years ago.

Once I crossed into Montana I am running with the trains in a very flat valley, with low hills on each side and the Yellowstone River.  While there's only a sign telling me I have entered a new state, it's also evidenced by the change of terrain.

Wild horses in the badlands

CROSSING THE PRAIRIES

North Dakota

I have a new shirt I am initiating today, though I bought it several days ago in Nashville, IN.  The running horse is configured of white flowers on my latest Life Is Good shirt.  While I wanted it in blue, it didn't really matter -- it's the horse that counts.  I am that horse as I drive another 450 miles of prairie, across North Dakota and into Montana.  There is a lightness of being out here and it's more beautiful than I imagined or remembered.  The rolling hills are sometimes bright green, sometimes yellow, sometimes tan with drying corn stalks. Round bales of hay are scattered in a few fields. Small ponds nestle among the fields, and clumps of trees shade the farmhouses. I only wish it was possible to stop along the interstate to take a few pictures.  Two-lane roads make picture taking much easier -- slower speeds, more leisurely driving, and less traffic. 

I've been gone nearly a week and haven't thought about home. So far no one's commented on my accent or figured out I am really from some place else.  While there are days when I have to cover many miles, especially when there are few sites that catch my attention, the pace is mine.  I can stay longer, like I did in St. Paul  on Tuesday to enjoy a two-hour tour of The Cathedral of St. Paul.  A fabulous place, full of art and sculpture.  Every piece claims it's own significance and meaning for Catholics.  It didn't matter that I left St. Paul three hours later than I had planned or that I had lunch at 4:00 in the afternoon; I still got to my hotel in ND before dark.

Here's what I know: this trip is what I am doing now.  In the weeks before I left my sole focus was to complete my manuscript. When I am back home in October I will return to my piano practicing and lessons.  But, right now I am traveling, soaking up the scenery and the conversations and the experiences, and it feels very right. 

Below are a few photos of St. Paul's.  The dome above the main nave is more than 300 feet high -- the Statue of Liberty would fit inside with room left over.

One of the rose windows. The surrounding windows

 represent stars.

Looking up at the dome

HEADING NORTH

Along the Mississippi River

My last evening in Clinton we went to the Mississippi River because I wanted to see it before I left town.  And I was recovered enough that I even cared about such things.  We spent an hour watching a tug boat with 15 barges maneuver under the highway bridge and through the raised railroad bridge as it headed down the river.  The angle made it tricky – at least that’s the way it appeared to us on the shore – to miss the bridge supports while making a turn and missing the shore on the other side of the railroad bridge.               

Today, Monday, is new territory for me – new roads, new scenery, and Mother’s only remaining relatives.  We’ve met once or twice more than ten years ago, but Mother was with me then and she carried the conversation.  I was only along for the ride then.  Now I am on my own.

I spent the morning driving the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River to Minnesota. The high bluffs are unique to this part of the river.  I was often travelling with the trains as they made their way along the river.  It felt much like travelling the Columbia River on the way to Oregon:  a big river and long trains.  The only difference is the dams; here they are lower, smaller, less concrete, no powerhouses or fish ladders.  I must have passed at least six dams, stopping at one just to check it out and watch a small boat go through the locks.  I never lose my fascination for boats and lock.

The winding two-lane road wandered above the river and through tiny town with populations less than 1000.  There was little traffic and the day was gorgeous.  After following another vehicle for several miles I finally decided to pass him.  When I pulled into the left lane and was even with the other car, I spotted a long-necked goose strolling across the highway in my lane.  A car was approaching me in the far distance but I had plenty of room.  I said a couple of bad words at the goose, the goose took no notice, and I had visions of feathers and legs and blood and guts scattered across the hood of the car.  I swerved to the left, hoping to miss the goose, the goose flapped his wings a couple of times, took a couple of quick hops, and continued strolling across the highway. Tragedy averted for both me and the goose.

I pulled into Hastings about 1:00 with a plan to visit Mother’s cousin Walter at his nursing home.  He passed his 100^th birthday in April.  He and Mother always talked about the fact that he was six weeks older than she was.  I was a little concerned about introducing myself to him and making sure he understood who I was.  I certainly didn’t expect him to recognize me after such a long time.  When I was a block from the nursing home, Richard (Walter’s nephew) called to say he was planning to go with me to visit Walter. His call was the gift of the afternoon. Richard and I have met, the last time being at Mother’s 90^th birthday in Salem, Oregon. We met at Perkins, had a bit of lunch, chatted about our relatives, then went together to see Walter.  We’ve all certainly aged in the last ten years but it’s good we still recognize one another.  Walter was having a good afternoon so conversation was good.  He let me know he had been waiting a very long time for me to get there!!  At times he confused me with Mother, which I expected, but it was o.k.  At other times he remembered I used to be in the food business and asked about my brothers.  He drifted in and out of sleep, but it was more like he was gathering his thoughts for the next thing he wanted to say.  His humor was still there, and he didn’t mind saying he didn’t understand something I said.  I am sure I talked a bit fast for him.  When I left I held his hand, gave him a hug, and said, “This is from Dorothy.”  He seemed to like that.

Richard and I drove on to Caroline’s, Walter’s daughter, for an evening of visiting and dinner.  My only time of meeting Caroline was back in the 1980’s when Dad and Mother and I, and Fred and Sarah, made a motorhome trip across the country.  We shared roasted salmon, cowboy beans, corn on the cob, and angel food cake smothered in fresh strawberries.  And we shared family stories, for hours.  Richard has researched the family history for the last ten or twelve years, has traveled to Germany to find our roots there, and has compiled the information and photos in a book he calls a “work in progress.”  We talked together about how to manage the boxes of family photos and letters that are in my garage.  Now that I have his book I can mesh my information with his.  We all have pieces of the puzzle, but between us we believe we have a complete picture.  But we are also painfully aware we should have asked more questions about our families.  We could have, but we didn’t.  When you’re young you don’t care about such things.  Perhaps it’s the curse of our later years:  we should have asked, we didn’t ask, and now it’s too late.  Mother was the last of the Kloepping family, so the name is gone – except in the stories Richard and I write and the gravestones we have visited.

At the end of the night, we agreed we have to get together more often – but it’s always a matter of long distances.  We determined the three of us are second cousins so we have to stay in touch. Since Caroline and Richard are both in the St. Paul area, it makes more sense for me to travel, then we can easily meet together.  I suspect Richard and I will be corresponding by email during the year as I begin to dig through the archives in my garage.  He is certainly doing his part with the family history; I have to do mine.

On Tuesday morning I found my way to the Walker Art Museum, only to discover my favorite blue horse painting is not on display right now.  So I enjoyed the outdoor sculpture garden and am ready to head for Fargo, North Dakota.

The Best Laid Plans....

Clinton, Iowa

The drive to Iowa continued as planned.  I got up close to the giant wind turbines east of Peoria.  I have always seen them from a distance.  This time they were next to the interstate and were humongous.  Previously I have seen single blades being transported on extended trailers.  The blades are so large only one blade fits on a trailer and special highway escort is required. Seeing a whole field of them bordering the interstate was fabulous.


Saturday morning Sarah and I made an early run to the farmer's market to buy eggplant, cherry tomatoes, peppers, eggs, chocolate fudge, and cantaloupe. We stopped by the local bakery for pastries to take home for breakfast.  The fried cinnamon roll was wonderful.

 Later in the morning we watched a women's collegiate soccer game in the wind and sporadic drizzle.  The home team lost but it was great to see their game on a regulation field this year.

At my request we had lunch a Culver's, the home of the ButterBurger and the best frozen custard I've every had -- though we decided to save the custard for another day.  The burger was fabulous, just the way I like it, with everything:  cheese, onions, mayo, the works.  I even skipped the fries, just to totally enjoy the burger. After lunch we took a tour around Clinton.

And then it hit.  My digestive tract wasn't feeling normal.  We had planned to attend a second soccer game at 4:00 but on the way, I told Ed I needed to go home.  By the time Sarah unlocked the front door of the house, I dropped my jacket on the floor and made a mad dash for the bathroom.  The awesome Butter Burger was way better going down than coming up! I don't believe Culver's was the culprit -- it was just the last thing I ate.   Long story short, I stayed in bed, except for an occasional trip to the dining room for a few sips of Green Tea Ginger Ale, and to lay my head down on the table.  Sometime in the evening Sarah suggested we take my temperature:  101.8.  At that point she announced, "Mom, you're sick!"  Now, it was official. I took Tylenol to relieve the aches and pains and returned to the bed for the rest of the night. I slept well with no more intestinal disruption but the fever persisted at 4:00 a.m.

By this morning I was back in the land of the living, though I skipped church and napped on the couch for most of the morning and afternoon.  I continued my diet of gingerale, saltine crackers and Tylenol and have continued to improve throughout the day.

In the meantime, I was thinkingabout how to rearrange my trip if necessary.  I certainly don't want to take illness to others, especially Walter who is 100 and has his own health issues.  If necessary I figured I could skip the visits in Minnesota and Montana, as long as I am in Oregon the week of September 10.  Sarah and Ed graciously invited me to stay on as long as I need to until I am well.

I have been sick during travels before.  I can say for sure that being sick, while never my choice, is better when you are with family who cares, who will check on you, and will fetch the thermometer and gingerale as needed.

Late this afternoon, I was able to do my laundry and straighten out my car and feel I am ready to go in the morning.  Dinner will be light -- potatoes and banana and crackers.  I am determined not to tax my system after yesterday.

As of this moment, I will be departing early in the morning, to travel the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi River north to Minneapolis and St. Paul, with a stop in Hastings to visit with Walter, Mother's cousin.

Stay tuned......