Changed Priorities

“Changed Priorities Ahead”. That's a road sign I saw in England. It is the sign that tells the driver that a two way street will become a one way street or vice versa. Changed priorities ahead seems to be what is happening here.

It began with warm weather. I decided to go to camp in a place in the mountains where it would be cool and with the help of the Forest Service picked out Jack's Gulch in the Roosevelt National Forest west of Fort Collins.

The drive was along the Cache las Poudre River, a raging wild white water river. The road was cut into the granite directly next to the river, so there were high bluffs above, the river beside, and high bluffs on the other side. Every so often, some people more insane than I flew down rapids on rubber rafts.

Signs said, “In case of flood, climb”. Simple enough but how to climb steep granite bluffs? With these old knees, in case of a flood, I was a goner. I drove on.

If one were in an accident the choices were two: fly into the river, or crash into a cliff. Pickup trucks pulling campers either came toward me or crept up behind me. I took full advantage of the pull off strips to let drivers pass and go on their breakneck speed, limits be damned!

The campground was not the isolated place I expected. Including the equestrian camp adjacent there must have been a hundred sites. Most were electric, not usual in the forest campgrounds I had been in. There were two camp hosts, one for each of the loops. There were already campers, pop-ups, recreational vehicles and few tents. The host said the campground would be filled by Friday night but he would give me a nice quiet spot in the tent only area.

Yes, it would be quiet there, but I had to lump all my gear along a path. I got busy and did so. Everything in place exactly where I wanted it. Then a young couple showed up with three children and two dogs and set up their tent a few yards from mine. They were glad for their spot, the woman said, because their dogs wouldn't annoy anyone there. What was I? Oh well, I thought.

Then it began to rain, a downpour. I have indeed been a rain goddess on his trip, bringing showers everywhere. When the going gets tough, the tough take a nap. I slept for an hour or so and the rain was over, but now it was windy.

I set up the cookstove and warmed up a can of ravioli. I ate it directly out of the pan and set the teakettle on the stove. The stove went out. I checked and the propane tank was empty. I pulled another out, one that was partly filled, I thought. I was wrong. It, too, was empty. Here I was, miles from anywhere and no way to cook any of the food I had brought along. No breakfast for me.

So I went to my tent early to get a good night's sleep but the wind came up and soon the tent fabric was rattling. I still slept well, probably because of the refreshing cold. I think the temperature dropped below 50 degrees that night.

On the next morning, I rose early as usual. I made cold tea and opened a can of peaches and wolfed them down. Breakfast done, I took my walking stick and went out to do the Jack's Gulch loop hike. Everywhere there were signs that said “No horses on the trail,” so of course, there was horse manure everywhere. I've always liked horses, but their riders could use some training in manners. I took photos of the wildflowers for Gary. I took photos of snow capped mountains and prairie meadows.

Then I packed up and left. This time, for most of the way, the river was on my left, meaning a crash into the granite was unlikely, but the river would more likely be my doom. But no problems of that nature occurred.

I stopped once at a pull off when I saw a ranger and asked his advice on the best way down. He suggested turned at Stove Prairie Road which would give me new terrain...and no river. This route took me through cattle country with high foothills and enormous ranches.

At Masonville, I stopped at the general store to get some granola bars for breakfast (it was almost noon) but opted for ice cream instead. Hey, sometimes you need ice cream to get through a day.

Soon I was in the outskirts of Loveland and found a Walmart to replace those pesky canisters. Meanwhile, I phoned Betty in Golden to see about retrieving the absentee ballot I had forwarded to her. She invited me to stay the night. Whoopee! I grabbed a sandwich to eat then started to Golden down Highway 25. Soon I was in a traffic jam and wound up having to take an off ramp.

Basically, I was lost but assumed that if I would head toward the mountains I would find the way. I also needed 104^th Street. I kept going through stoplight after stoplight. The car was running smoothly, no stalling as it had been for two days in the heat. I finally pulled off at a post office to get some help. I called Betty and found out I was at Arvada and what do you know, on exactly the right street which would eventually lead to a filling station where she could meet me.

I finally came to Carl's Corner, a gas station. I stopped and steam began to come out of the car's hood in billows. Coolant blew out of the bottom in a big puddle.

I called Betty. It was the wrong filling station, but it was the best place to break down. There was a mechanic, who thought it was a hose, but he was leaving for the July 4^th weekend. I could leave my car there.

So here I am at Betty's. I have to deal with a broken car, a computer that is refusing to connect to the internet, and bookings in Utah on Tuesday. Betty is expecting company so I will have to find a motel for the night. I will spend the day looking for the mechanic that works weekends. I will find a place to post blogs. The libraries are closed, of course.

So as I said, changed priorities ahead. I wonder what they will be.

P.S.  Not as bad as it sounds.  Stay with me on this one.

Wednesday - Southbound

It was hot at Ayres Natural Bridge Park but worse was the wind.  I thought the tent would unravel overnight.  So it was pack up in the morning and keep going.

I had two performances, one in Glenrock and the next at Douglas.  Darn good thing it was so hot because I had the Douglas performance on my schedule as 1:30 and they had it at 1:00.  Because of the heat, I arrived early to enjoy the air conditioning and it all worked out.

With temperatures approaching 100 degrees, of course the air conditioning in the car cut out.  I left the windows open and kept heading south, glad this was desert heat, not the humid kind we get in Wisconsin.

I drove pretty much non stop until I got to a little community south of Cheyenne.  The restaurant there had wireless so I had a very lengthy supper and caught up with my e-mail. I was enjoying the air conditioning, when a big tent next to the window toppled over and made every attempt to go through and whack me with shattered glass.  I screamed and three heavyset bikers rushed out to hold the thing down.  They also moved their bikes which would have been creamed.  I moved to a safer location and stayed for almost two hours.

I always calculate on staying in a motel about every ten days and tonight was a good time.  I found an air conditioned Motel 6 with good rates and disappeared in the room to enjoy some civilization.

I took two showers, one in the evening to cool off and another in the morning just for cleanliness sake.  I took everything out of the car and re-organized.  I gave some clothes I wasn't using to the desk clerk (she was exactly my size).  I got rid of a few other things and moved many things to the back of the car, thereby making the passenger side free to shoot air at me.

This morning, I did two loads of laundry.  While the laundry was in the machines, I walked around the outside of the motel until I found what I was looking for, a guy putting a backpack in his SUV. Where's a good place to camp in Colorado? I asked.  He not only had topographic maps, he had some good advice.  Go to the forest ranger station in Ft. Collins and ask.  I did so and am now on my way to Jake's Gulch, above 8,000 feet and cool!

I am not sure if I'll manage to write a blog tomorrow, I'll be pretty isolated.  Be sure, I am still have a whale of a good time.

Tuesday - Hot and Tired

I think it was 1968 when I first visited the Black Hills. One thing I wanted to see was Devil's Tower, which I had read about during my pursuit of a geology minor at UW-Oshkosh. 

But I was with my husband who was concerned with mileage, at least when it was something I was interested in.

In the early 1980's I camped in the Black Hills with son Chris and figured on driving to Devil's Tower, but our VW bug developed problems and we never got that far.

On a storytelling tour in the late 1990's I came close, but had to hurry on to Nebraska for a performance.

This trip, I finally went. 

Sometimes dreamed of things turn out to be big disappointments.  Yes, it is a monumental symbol of something or other, but there it is.  Looking at a photo was just as impressive, moreso, because a photo doesn't have a bunch of tourists shoving and pushing.  I sat on a bench next to an old guy (older than me anyhow) who said, "Big deal, it's a rock."  He was waiting for his family to come back. 

I volunteered to take a photo of a nice Japanese family.  Visitors from other countries never can get their family all in one photo so they like that.  Then they insisted on using my camera to take a photo of me.  It was the highlight of that excursion.  I was there all of fifteen minutes.  But it's out of the way now. 

The rest of the day was a long drive.  I ran across a wonderful hostess at a visitors' center at Wright, WY who told me of a place to stay the night.  As good as the $3 place in North Dakota?  Better.  This was free, Ayres Natural Bridge Park between Douglas and Glenroch where I would perform the next day.  But first I had to go to Casper to meet one of Gary's friends who worked at a Menards there.  I took his photo, bought two gallons of water, and headed to the park which is indeed beautiful.

I would have taken more photos but I was so tired from driving, I put the tent up in fifteen minutes and crawled in...after throwing $5 in the park donation box.  Worth it.

Conversations

First, apologies for not posting yesterday. Internet connections are getting sparse as I head east. Even the libraries and McDonald's may or may not have connections for me when I need them. I'll try to post twice today.

Second, Gary points out that sage is not used for healing as I wrote a couple of days ago, it's for keeping evil spirits away. I guess it worked for me that way, too.

But about conversations: I like campgrounds because I get to talk to all kinds of people from all over. If I stayed in a motel, I might talk to the desk clerk and the rest of the time there would be television. Libraries and small restaurants are good for conversing, too.

Examples of recent conversations:

At the museum in Medora, I chatted with a fellow from Iowa who agreed with me that it was dismaying when things from our childhood are displayed in a museum. We particularly noticed the old telephones with the cranks on the sides. Then we began reminisce about party lines. We had eight customers on our country line. Each family had its own ring delivered by telephone operators. Ours was two rings, but the minute we picked up the call, we heard a click and knew that our neighbor, Mrs. Barclay, was listening in. I told the fellow that my father said that when the telephone made it to the farm it saved my grandmother's sanity during the long winter months when they didn't go anywhere. She had free entertainment when a call to anyone came through.

Then there was the woman at the campground from western New York State who said that everyone wished that New York City would form its own state, since all their taxes went there.

Many North Dakotans at the campground worried about the flooding. The State of North Dakota started the year with a balanced budget but this will cost millions. However, on the drive on Monday, I learned that the millions the state has made from oil revenues was put aside in a “rainy day” fund and should cover the costs. I don't like the “fracking” process of getting oil, but I suspect there are few in North Dakota that would agree with me this year.

At Beach, North Dakota, I chatted with two women who drive the lead cars for the big oversized loads of wind powered turbines being put up all over the United States. One of them had now been in everyone of the “lower 48” states, just having added Montana. The blades and parts on enormous trucks were parked all over the truck stop.

At Wibaux, Montana, I decided to stop for breakfast after an early morning start from Buffalo Gap in the rain. The only place open was the cafe at the Palace Hotel. I ordered a pancake, which turned out to be as big as a dinner plate. The cook came out with a batch of hot cinnamon rolls, each one four times as big as a Cinnabon. (I am not exaggerating.) Discretion won out there.

The waitress told me that she and her husband were ranchers who had been snowed in six times during their dreadful winter, but that they had just gotten their first computer. She went on Facebook right away. She said it saved her sanity, being able to connect with the outside world. I thought about my grandmother and her party line. Have things changed so much?

At Glendive, I ran into a pair of schoolteachers from British Columbia who told me what to expect as I headed west and I told them about the Palace Hotel sweet rolls and the Buffalo Gap campground.

I went on to the Glendive Library which is in a former bank which was round, for some reason.  It makes a perfect library with stacks with good sight lines so that the librarian at the desk can see everything that is going on.  At the back the bank officer's offices made perfect work spaces.

At Circle, I feasted at a salad bar at a cafe next to the grocery store and talked to the farmers. I mentioned that the winter wheat didn't look bad but they said that wasn't going to last because the wheat is still in mud and mildew has formed. The wheat will rot away. They had no plans to plant this summer. Look for higher food prices.

At the Circle library, Emmy told me that the cattle are getting fat on the grass but during the winter, the antelope and deer died of starvation. Even worse, the only place they could get away from the snow was on the railroad tracks. There would be herds of deer sheltering there when a freight train came through. As many as twenty at a time were slaughtered. The government usually required a report for each deer killed but this year, they said, don't bother.

The turkey vultures circled over the land as I drove. They must have been in vulture heaven when they migrated from the south and found so many deer carcasses emerging from the snow.

I headed south with the plan of staying at a national forest near Ashland, but at a Miles City restaurant, a family that lived that way told me my car would be traveling over rain damaged roads with deep, deep potholes. They steered me to Broaddus and the RV park, where I was assigned a tent spot next to the corral. The horses came over to watch me put up the tent and a friendly cat decided I was wonderful. She tried to climb into the car then the tent. I didn't think my Rascal would approve and shooed her away.

And that ended Monday.

Sunday in North Dakota

I woke to rain yesterday morning.  Instead of sitting in a tent, I drove west to Beach, North Dakota, the western most ND city on H. 94.  I liked what I found.  It was a sensible little small town with no pretensions other than being no. 1 -- the no. 1 exit off the highway.

There was a visitors center with wireless and plug ins and plenty of maps and brochures that I needed to consider for my next day trip. I ate lunch in town and talked to folks about farming, always interesting.  I found out that the winter wheat, which looks so nice and green, is rotting at the roots.  No hope for the farmers there. 

On my way back to the campground, I considered the exit sign that promised food and beds.  Certainly not at the campground, so I took the dirt road and found Buffalo Gap, which is a motel for riders, with corrals for the horses, a restaurant, a bar, and quite a few customers at the bar.

Next I decided it was time to go drive the loop through Theodore Roosevelt National Park.  Seemed like a good idea until I found how many miles it was, that there would be few places to turn around, and that the gas tank was riding on empty.  

I tried to hurry things along, but the others doing the loop kept stopping to look at bison, prairie dogs, and other critters and there was no way to get around them.  I could see myself running out of gas, which took some of the pleasure from the scenery. 

Still, I had to take a photo of the Badlands, didn't I?

And what about a herd of wild horses?

I made it to Medora, filled up with gas.  As I drove into the campground I looked over my shoulder at ominous clouds.  A fellow in a pickup with a camper back drove in behind me and yelled, "It's been following me from Billings!"

In the next 12 minutes (I timed myself), I packed up all my gear, all while cooking ravioli on the campstove.  I finished up the meal just as the rains came. 

It was another night sleeping in the car but before I turned in I did my bookkeeping for the first week of my tour. After deducting costs from what I've earned, this trip has cost me just over a dollar. Not bad,considering I first began to tell stories on Thursday. 

Buffalo Gap and Medora

 The Buffalo Gap campground connects with the Theodore Roosevelt National Park with its own trail, the Buffalo Gap Trail. I never took it that far. With a pulled right leg muscle (making the right leg match the left so no limping), I was hurting, so I limited myself to a three mile hike. It would have taken another six miles to get to the main park trails. Still I was able to get into the grasslands and walk between the rain-made wildflower display and the occasional buffalo turds which are sizable.

I took photos of the flowers for Gary to identify when I get back. He's the botanist, not me. A gentian perhaops?

Everywhere there is sage, even at my campsite. The scent flies up with every step I take, reminding of powwows. Sage is lit then, creating the “good smoke” that is healing to the spirit.

There were fences here and there, since the grasslands are leased out to ranchers. The rules are simple: if the gate is open, leave it open, if it's closed make sure to close it when you've passed through.

This is Big Sky country, with cumulus clouds hovering over me. I thought about my mother then. She grew up in Hebron, North Dakota. She told me that when she moved to Wisconsin, all those trees made her claustrophobic. She said she expected people to leap out from behind them. Me, I have the opposite opinion. I was walking through broad grasslands and not a tree to piss behind. Highway 94 was nearby and I was not in the mood to give truckers a display.

Later, I talked to a neighboring camper, a North Dakotan as most of the campers are, and she told me that when she visited her daughter in Massachusetts, she was driven down roads with forests on either side. “You can't see anything,” she said.

In the afternoon, I drove into Medora, with an eye to internet access and groceries, since I had no fruit or vegetables. The internet access came easily at my first stop, the Billings County Courthouse Museum, which also serves as a visitors' center. It served as the original courthouse. When the county built a new courthouse, the old one was converted to a museum. It is complete with old safes that held documents and a jail where one can have one's photo take, “for Christmas cards” as the attendant put it. She and her mother regaled each visitor with tales of Medora. She directed me to a chair to the upstairs and there I wrote and published yesterday's blog. I took time to look at the museum as well, but I may have to finish the tour on my return trip in July.

Next, I wanted something to eat. Just around the corner the Medora Lutheran Church was holding a hamburger grill. For a donation, I got a cheeseburger, beans, and chips. I could have added in a bar and a soft drink but I really am trying to keep my weight down on this trip. Right behind me in line were Mary and Dan, the Buffalo Gap campground hosts. They host here in Medora in the summer than go to New Mexico in the winter. Dan was the director of Turtle River State Park (where I didn't stay because of rain) for seventeen years. Great hosts!

The rest of the time in Medora was less successful. The only place to buy groceries was the convenience store. A can of green beans was $1.79. The lettuce and carrots were old. I bought two apples. Next I went to a restaurant and ordered a side salad. The small bowl of wilted lettuce topped with sorry shredded cheese came to $3.49.

The town was crowded with tourists of the worst kind, who rush around buying silly souvenirs made in China and are rude if they aren't first in line. No smiling at them, this is serious business they are about. Do any of them ever hit the trails? If they did even a cursory drive through the park I would be surprised.

I went to the park visitors' center and asked if there was a place I could plug in my computer and work, but no, they couldn't help me that way. My computer's battery was about to go dead, so I went into the restroom, plugged the computer into the outlets for those who use hair dryers and spent some quality time on the toilet. Hair dryers use much more electricity than computers so I felt no remorse.

I finally put Medora behind me and went back to the campground which was nearly deserted. I sat in my lawn chair with my feet up on a stone and read an excellent novel, every so often looking up at the sunny buttes. It was sweet, sweet solitude.

It is too late for me. I will never make a good little tourist.