Canada in 2014

Roger and Cherri Lange arrived from Adelaide on July 22nd. For Rob and Anne this was already a very special day. It was their forty seventh wedding anniversary. No, silly. They have only been married once.

            Over the next several days there was a lot of catching up accomplished. Our down-under visitors soon adjusted to a new sleep schedule, and to the up-over summer warm weather. Over after dinner games of pinochle we caught up on families and years of memories of past times together.

            Chris, Jennifer, and the boys were able to visit the week prior to Roger and Cherri’s arrival. Jennifer and the boys flew home ahead of Chris, and Chris was able to stay on an extra day due to an airline landing hold at San Francisco. Chris went to school with Elise Lange and he was anxious to visit with Roger and Cherri. The three were able to share a day together before Chris needed to fly home to Vermont.   

            Over a period of a few days, Rob and Roger mapped out a road trip which would introduce the Australians to some of the scenery in Canada’s western provinces. The trip would take a

couple of weeks and it would begin with a stopover in Newberg, OR, and it would end with a stopover in Klamath Falls, OR. These to Oregon cities were important because they are home for common friends met in Adelaide.

            Ben and Kayda Mitchell live in Newberg. Ben inherited their hazelnut orchards from his father. In Adelaide, Ben was an accountant with Price Waterhouse and Kayda was a home economics teacher at Para Hills High School. Kayda and Rob were both recruited by the South Australian Department of Education on short term contracts to aid in filling the teacher gap South Australia had during the seventies. Rob and Kayda ended up at the same school.

            The Langes became close friends with the Mitchell’s through their association with Rob and Anne. It was a must see stop at the Newberg orchards to reunite the six friends.

The motorhome pulled away from Medford on the morning of August 1^st. The drive to Newberg was a comfortable first day trip and we pulled into the Willamette Hazelnut Growers’ parking lot in midafternoon. Ben and Kayda are co-owners of the Growers Association which was established in 1975 to process and sell the nuts produced by member’s orchards.

            Ben and Kayda greeted us outside their home and directed me to park on their driveway. We soon gathered in their ranch home and relaxed over a couple of fine ales. Reunion conversation was active and it was great to find out how well the hazelnut business has been. The Mitchell’s are justly proud of their venture.

            Katie and Michael and their two daughters arrived shortly. Katie is Ben and Kayda’s daughter. Michael is joint plant manager with the son-in-law of Ben’s partner at Willamette Hazelnut Growers. The work of the two sons-in-law has allowed Ben to begin to ease into a retirement mode. We discovered, however, that full retirement is still a little ways away.

            Kayda put out a wonderful dinner for all and we enjoyed the visiting well into the evening. The next morning, after breakfast, Ben took us for a tour of the orchard holdings they are responsible for. We learned a great deal about the life cycle of the trees and about some of the work the Mitchells have done with hazelnut hybrids to overcome pest disease problems.

            This had been a fun visit and we found ourselves back on the road by late morning. Today’s journey would take us to eastern Oregon for a night’s stay in Hermiston.

           

The Columbia River must have America’s corner on power production. Bonneville Dam, of course, is the star of the many dams and power plants along this mighty trough. We took a break in our I-84 drive and visited Bonneville Dam, the original power house, and the fish ladders.

            Construction of the dam began in 1934. The first powerhouse went on line in1937. Today’s annual electrical power production is ~4.5Gigawatt hours. Electricity generation is important, but so are ship navigation and fish migration.

            Rapids in the river caused transportation problems and those were originally dealt with by the construction of the Cascade Locks, upstream from Bonneville. The locks were flooded when Bonneville Lake was filled. A lock system at the dam replaces the step for ships to be able to navigate the river.

             The dam has extensive fish ladders which aid in getting Sturgeon, Salmon, and

other species past the river blockage. Fish spillways are built into the dam to release fish downstream. The massive turbine blades are designed to minimize damage to the ocean going schools.

            We toured the original power plant and the observation windows along the fish ladders. Close and accurate counts are made of the number and species of fish that swims by. Not all of the swimmers were fish, however. We were able to capture a shot of some lamprey which were resting on the glass between steps in the ladder.

           

Interstate 84 took us to Hermiston for the night’s stay at Pioneer RV Park. There was nothing much notable about the park. Hermiston served as a highway junction for us, with access to I-82(US395), which will take us north, past Spokane, into Idaho.

            Coeur d’Alene is in northern Idaho and sits on the northern edge of the large natural lake of the same name. The Blackwell Island RV Resort parked us on the rim of the lake for the night’s stay. The city is highlighted by the lake’s sparkling water and the pine-forested foot hills of the Rocky Mountains.

            Our destination for the next day was to make it to Cranbrook, BC. We would pass into Canada on Hwy 95 at Eastpoint, ID and the Kingsgate Border Crossing. A lot of advanced research had been done regarding what was, and was not legal to possess when crossing into Canada. The 2^nd Amendment doesn’t exist for our northern friends; what is or is not a weapon is well defined. We could not be carrying the pellet pistol which is kept in the RV. We could have the longbow, but not a crossbow. The pistol had been left at home and the longbow was declared at the crossing.

            We were probably that particular agent’s random stop for the day, or maybe she just needed to see the faces that belonged to the two Australian passports  she palmed through. At any rate, we were told to pull over to the parking bay and wait inside until called upon.

            Roger and I left the ladies on the bus. Ten minutes later are name was called and I was asked to retrieve the women and unlock the bay doors on the RV. When leaving the RV, Cherri asked if she could take her purse. The female agent told her yes, but she needed to have a look inside it first. The woman and a second agent went about with latex gloved hands and checked all of the RV’s orifices. We watched from inside the station as one of the agents tried to open the tailgate of the Honda. She did not grab the slot on the door with the latch and thought the car to be locked; a cursory glance through the windows seems to bring satisfaction. The pat down of the RV took about ten minutes and we were released to continue our tour of Canada.

            Cranbrook, BC was chosen as a convenient first city to find an RV park for our

introduction to the country. We lodged at Mount Baker RV Park. Cranbrook became the first major center in the region when Colonel Baker, from Cranbrook, Kent, England, convinced the Canadian Pacific Railway to establish their Crowsnest Pass line through there instead of through the nearby Gold Rush Boom Town of Fort Steele.
 

            Fort Steele, BC is a few km north of Cranbrook on the Kootenay Hwy (95). A visit to the relocated and preserved original town of Fort Steele is our first touristy stop of the trip. Originally called Galbraith’s Ferry, after the gold rush founder, John Galbraith, who

settled at the Kootenay River site in 1864, the town was renamed in 1888. Sam Steele of the NW Mounted Police solved a dispute between a settler and a member of the First Nations. The tension had been heated and its resolution brought gratitude from the town’s people and the First Nations people. Galbraith’s Ferry was renamed after the man who solved their problem. The town was never originally a fort. The fort part of the name came after the NWMP set up a station in the town.

            Walking the dusty streets and  
planked sidewalks of the old town was fun. All of the original store fronts have been kept up

and the building contents have been preserved. We sat through a one act play of a western drama at the town’s theater. The actors played well with the audience and got the children involved with help in solving the mystery. Fort Steele Heritage Town had been a good place to visit.

            Radium, BC is properly called Radium Hot Springs. This small city is at the entrance to Kootenay National Park and incorporated in 1991. Hot springs surface many places in mountain ranges, and when they do, they are favored spots for natives to congregate. The radioactive element Radium decays to Radon. Radon was discovered to be present in the hot spring pools used for bathing. Because the air-borne exposure to the radiation is very low, compared to radon found in household water settings, the pools are left open for public use. Radium Hot Springs is at the junction of highways 95 and 93.

We had reserved an RV spot at Radium Valley Vacation Resort. This is a very large RV park and we were fortunate to have a spot which overlooked the Columbia Valley. Each site featured a cabana and decked patio. The pines were loaded with cones and this was a draw for ground squirrels. The sunsets were peaceful to watch from the deck.

 

            The first full day at the resort was spent touring the length of Kootenay National Park. We bought a multi-park pass at the entrance and enjoyed stopping at all of the view points along the highway. By the time we had arrived at the Hot Springs Pools, it was time for an ice cream cone break.

            The Hot Springs Pools are a commercial affair and they consist of two large pools. One pool has hot water for soaking, usually around 39C (104F), and the other is a 2/3 Olympic swimming pool that is usually around 29C (84F).  There is also a small hot-tub size pool called the “Plunge Pool”. This pools water can be hot- right from the source at 44C (114F) - or cold, right from a creek running beneath the pools. The ice cream did it for us. We chose not to use any of the pools.

            The highway through the park is well maintained, but it is a mountain highway. Seeing the sights with the Honda was definitely the way to go. We passed the Continental Divide, passed into Alberta and turned around prior to reaching the Banff turnoff.

            This trip offered us our first opportunity to stop and view parts of the Canadian Rockies. There was a forest fire happening somewhere northwest of the park, in British Columbia. The smoke presented a saddening haze over all of the distant peaks. We will have opportunities to come. A stop was made at the supermarket in Radium and we bought steak for dinner. Tonight was the ladies night off in the kitchen and the cabana came with a gas barbeque for the guys to use. This had been a fun day and we capped it off with a robust game or two of pinochle.

            Freight trains passed through the valley below throughout the night. Distant track clatter and far away mournful cries of the train’s horns were enough for all of us to have

registered at least once during that night’s sleep. Although awakening, the distant noise was also peaceful.

            The second day at the Radium RV Park was filled with a morning of relaxation, some puttering, and some back road investigating. The bow and arrows needed to be exercised. Roger and I found Roush Rod & Reel Club, tucked away in the hillside forest, on Horsethief Road. The club advertised an available archery range. There was no usage charge for shooting the bow and a few shots were made. Two fingers on the bow string hand limited what I could pull. We thanked the caretakers and found our way back to camp.

            There is a lot to see in the Radium Hot Springs vicinity. On the third day Anne and

Cherri packed a lunch and we drove to nearby Invermere and visited Lake Windermere. This was a fun outing. Roger and Cherri insisted on treating for dinner. Reservations were made to sup at Helena Stubs, an Austrian restaurant. We were all treated to a fine meal.   

            Many of the spaces at Radium RV Park are privately owned. For three days we had actually been renting space 96 from its absentee owner. They were visiting their site tomorrow, so we had to move to space 95, next door. Roger and I made the move the next morning.

            This was going to be our last day at the Radium park. Roger and I have discovered that if we are in an area for any extended period of time, and there is a spa in the region, it will get used. The car was gone for the morning and we had the chance to take on a crossword puzzle and watch ground squirrels drop cones from the nearby trees. The neighbor had parked their vehicle under limbs of one of the trees and we heard it getting several hits from falling cones.

          Sunday morning means pancake breakfast is served at the Radium Resort lodge. We readied the RV for travel and re-parked it near the exit gates. All of us ate too much this morning, but it sure was good.

            We re-drove through Kootenay National park towards Banff and Trans-Canada Highway 1. We found our way to Canmore, Alberta and Rundle Mountain RV Park by 1:30pm. Canmore is the ninth largest city in Alberta. The town is in the Bow Valley and about 50 miles west of Calgary. The city was named after Malcolm III of Scotland who was also nicknamed Canmore; Gaelic for “Big Head”.        Coal mining created the initial settlement in the 1880’s and the market for coal was served for over 100 years. Canmore’s economic outlook was dismal, until Calgary secured the 1988 Winter Olympics. Located above 4,500 feet in the Rockies, Canmore was selected as host to the Nordic events. Recreation replaced mining and tourism dominates the area’s economy today.

            Development happens in the Rocky Mountains either on the slopes, or in its valleys. Cities and trains seem a natural pairing for the valleys. The early coal industry developed both for Canmore, and for the Duncan/Lange RV lodging. We planned a three day stay at the Rundle Mountain RV Park. Our site was one row away from the very busy train tracks. We weren’t subjected to train whistles, but the traffic seemed almost non-stop.

            From the Rundle park we planned to sortie out each day and explore hallmarks of this region of the Rockies. The next day we

drove to Lake Louise. Anne and I had camped on the shore of the lake when we crossed Canada on our honeymoon 47 years earlier. The view across the lake, with its milky blue-green water surrounded by rugged treeless peaks, was the same. At the far end of the lake was Victoria Glacier. Nothing else was familiar.

            Lake Louise is a hamlet which is separated into two communities. The main community, the Village, is located at a lower elevation near the Trans-Canadian rail tracks. The second community is located adjacent to the mile high lake and is centered on the Chateau Lake Louise. The inhabitants of the Chateau village are all employees of the Chateau facility.  Tourism in the warmer months and skiing in the colder ones keep Lake Louise busy year around.

            A nearby ski area operates its gondola lift during the summer months. From the

Chateau we caught the shuttle bus to the ski lodge. This was a warm sunny day so we chose to ride to the top of the mountain on the open chairs. Cherri and Anne followed Roger and me on a second chair. Cherri is a bit anxious about the open air heights and she knew Roger would try to rock the chair if she rode with him.

            All areas on the ground where tourists may walk are fenced to keep people and bears away from each other. A black bear had been spotted near post #14 on the lift and we looked hard, but we didn’t spot her. Near the top of the gondola is a valley outlook and a nature center. The center housed stuffed specimens of animals found in the region and featured a two o’clock video presentation prepared by biologists who worked on the mountains. Roger agreed not to rock the boat on the way down and we all rode together on one chair.

 We spent a break period at the ski lodge. Upper levels of the lodge had balconies opening

to the lift facilities below and the extensive slopes above. We sat for a while, sharing cookies and chips, and enjoyed the peacefulness of the mountain’s scenery.

            We returned to Canmore via the Bow Valley Parkway. The Parkway parallels Hwy 1 on the opposite side of the Bow River. Parkway is a bit of a glorified title for the windy two-lane road, but the trip was a nice diversion from the freeway. Not far from Baker Creek Mountain Resort we came upon several cars parked on each side of the road. Folks were out of their cars pointing cameras and fingers at the mountain side. As we drove through the crowd we, too, saw the attraction. Resting on a nearby knoll was an enormous bull elk. Un-nerved by the spectacle below, the elk comfortably lay, displaying its massive rack. Well, that was the excitement for the day.

            Our hostess at the Rundle Mountain RV Park was Tracy. Tracy is a want-a-be actress/model. Tracy hosted a rack, a bit different than our elk’s, and she was proud of that and of her role in the park. She shared with Roger and me the nature of the diversity of the

various park residents. Topped with a large white cowboy hat and wearing a loose fitting blouse, she explained that most of the campers were there for longer stays. Many worked in Canmore and were in the park until they found permanent residences. Tracy’s discussion interrupted the crossword Roger and I had been working on, but it was an interesting diversion. The ladies, by the way, had driven off in search of sustenance to stay off the wolf for the next few days.

            Our final full day at Canmore was to sight see the greater Banff area. Our first stop was at nearby Lake Minnewanka. “Water of the Spirits” in Nakoda, Lake Minnewanka

is a glacial lake fed by the Cascade River and at over 17 miles long it is the longest lake in the mountain parks of the Canadian Rockies. Peoples have inhabited areas around the lake for over 10,000 years. We shared the humor of the lake’s name when translated into the vernacular of Roger and Cherri’s native Australian.

            We enjoyed lunch at nearby Two Jacks Lakeside Campground. Ground squirrels knew where food was, and one stood tall as it ate a portion of red cherry, which accidently fell off the picnic table. Following lunch we drove to Johnson Lake. On the road between the lakes we came upon a small herd of mountain sheep. The sheep were undisturbed by the passing cars, nor by the

occasional vehicle that got stopped while one of them casually inspected its path across the highway. The sheep were female; all of them displayed shorter, pointy horns. There were several non-horned youth. They stayed close to their mothers and their food source.

            From the lakes, we drove the windy, switchback Mount Norquay Road to the ski lodge at its top. This road was fun for its tasking turns, its cliff side vistas of Banff and the valley below, and for the small herd of mountain sheep which was resting and grazing at a road side pull over.

            The next stop was downtown Banff. Banff is the community with the second highest

elevation in Alberta, after Lake Louise. Banff is a resort town and one of Canada’s most popular tourist destinations: hiking, biking, skiing, and hot springs provide recreation year around. We found a place to park at the head of Banff Avenue. From there we strolled past the Alpine style fronted shops along the avenue. A rest break was called for when we discovered the Banff Avenue Brewing Company. We enjoyed a fine mug of IPA from the second story balcony.

            Fernie, British Columbia is on our way back to the States. One of Fernie’s distinctions is that it is the only Canadian city that is fully encircled by the Rocky Mountains. The Crowsnest Coal Field, opened in 1897 by William Fernie, was the genesis of the small community. We had our GPS programed to Snowy Peak RV Park.

            Thirty miles north of Fernie we pulled into a large rest stop which highlighted Island

Lake. Cherri discovered a hot food vendor at the far end of the lot. It was lunch time, so we all enjoyed our first Smoky Hotdog, served directly from the chef’s trailer oven. A secluded grassed area, with a couple of picnic tables, gave us a comfortable setting to look over the small mountain lake. We pulled into Snowy Peaks at 1:30pm.

            It was about 110 miles from Fernie to our re-entry into the States at Kingsgate Border Crossing by Eastport, ID. The border agent wasn’t interested whether we carried any weapons on this crossing. His interest was centered on what kinds of fruit and vegetables we had on board. We rattled off several

species, but that wasn’t good enough. I was asked to pull over to the inspection stall for an on-board kitchen search. Agent Fox donned a pair of latex cloves and welcomed himself aboard. We all sat aside as Fox dove into the cupboards and refrigerator in his quest to search out unwelcomed Canadian harvest. Several veggie items were still in their factory packaging.

            The confiscation process set us all back for a while. There was no advance publication of what could not pass south over the border. Agent Fox shared with us a government screed which spelled out villainous foods, and the consequences of not accurately declaring you had them with you. If Border Agents weren’t so darn honest, and helpful, we could see how one’s incomplete declaration process could turn into a vast money maker for America.

            Driving from Fernie through the Moyie River valley, we had come upon our first rain for the trip. We had budgeted the day’s driving wisely. Our next stop was at, wait for it, Hi Dee Ho RV Park in downtown Ponderay, Idaho. After less than 65 miles, we pulled in at 1:45pm. Ponderay is only 50 miles north of Coeur d’Alene. We had wanted to re-stay at Blackwell Island RV Resort, but the sites were all booked.

Roger and I drove to the Walmart to re-stock with libation. Roger noted that a 4L box

of Merlot wine in Canmore was priced at $44. However, on the U.S. side, a 5L box of Franzia Merlot was just $14. From a cost benefit perspective, it was good to be south of the border.

The drive tomorrow was going to be a long one. We packed up early. The story is long, but in order to get our caravan back onto the highway, without having to make a U-turn, we needed to pass through the McDonald’s parking lot. Having yet to eat, we did not pass up a McBreakfast.

While Roger and I waited for the ladies to bring our bags of egg burgers, we witnessed the passing flash and roar of a lawn mower. This happened on the Les Schwab lot next door. Roger got out to investigate. The mower, with its modified John Deere engine, was capable of zero to 50 mph in less than 200 feet. The machine was used for riding-mower racing.

While next door, Roger learned there had been a bad wreck south of Ponderay which would hold back traffic for a couple of hours. We mapped out a bypass route via Hwy 2, passed Spokane, WA, down through Hermiston and across I-84 to Pendleton. This was going to the lady’s favorite night’s stay for the trip. Anne had booked us into the Wildhorse Resort & Casino RV Park. We arrived a few minutes before 4pm.

Roger and I got the walls extended and the services all hooked up. The ladies had called for the Casino shuttle. Within a few minutes they were gone. Our desire was to rest

and do nothing for a while and we would meet them for buffet dinner at the Casino. A little before 6pm we located them in the non-smoking slots area. Each claimed to be holding her own with the betting. The buffet was “all you can eat”, and we all did exactly that. From dinner we retired to the park for a few games of Pinochle.

The next day, and our final night in the coach, found us at Mountain View RV Park in Metolius, OR. Metolius dates back to the early 1900’s when it was founded as location to build a railroad depot. Located between Madras and Redmond, Metolius serves as a bedroom community for the larger cities. Our site at the RV Park was a nice pull-through. The most exciting feature of the park was the fact that

showers cost 25 cents. We enjoyed relaxing for the afternoon, dinner, and some rousing Pinochle.

Scheduled for today was a stop at the High Desert Museum, south of Bend. A breakfast stop was declared at the Peter Skene Ogden State Scenic Viewpoint, where the highway crossed the Crooked River. The Crooked River Gorge was impassable prior to the completion of the railroad bridge in 1911. At 320 feet above the river, this bridge was the second highest in the U.S. at the time. It is a steel two-hinge arch span with a total length of 460 feet. It was just 4 months into the bridge’s construction that the first train made its passage. Half of the rivets holding the bridge together were installed after trains had been using it.

The High Desert Museum sits on 135 acres of pine covered forest south of Bend. Indoor and outdoor exhibits of animals of the area, and Native American and pioneer history

help make this museum unique in its methods. We were treated to live Porcupine, Owl, Badger and River Otter presentations; each very well done. It is sad, but the same with all significant museums, there is just too much to take in with just one visit. Anne and I have been here several times over the years, and each time it seems all new again. The museum is a must see stop when traveling Hwy 97.

Anne and Cherri found themselves in the garden reaping the crop of tomatoes. Roger helped me back the RV onto its parking pad and we were officially finished with our 2014 Canadian Adventure by 4 o’clock. It was time for a tinny, to celebrate and relax in our homecoming.

  

 

 

 

 

A Journey to forget

Trip to Fort Wayne, or how to describe a Cluster ¥€£#

Tuesday, December 17, we are booked via United departing Medford at 6pm, then through San Francisco and Chicago, bringing us into Fort Wayne at 8am, on Wednesday. This was a "red eye" trip, but we were anxious to see the kids.

Around noon, on Tuesday, I happened to log on to United.com to check the flight's status. All flights to SFO have been cancelled due to fog in the Rogue Valley. Promptly, we called the 800 United number and began a long, painful process of finding an alternative schedule. Yes. There is a United flight leaving from Eugene at 6am on Wednesday. Great. We could hot foot it to Eugene, stay the night with cousin Chris and David, and scoot out to the airport early in the morning.

Seats were available, but wait, what about the return to Eugene, instead of to Medford?  We had to be able to drive our car home. The 800 operator at United put us on hold while she conferred with others about the return dilemma. That's when we got disconnected.

Anne suggested we drive to the airport and talk one-on-one with a United human being. The line to the counter was quite long. A lot of other Medfordites had also just been misplaced. Anne waited in line, while I found a large marble stone which had been fashioned into a quiet area sitting spot. From the stone, I recalled 800 United. Drat's, the flight out of Eugene no longer had available seats.

By the time I received the depressing news about Eugene, Anne had progressed to the front of the service line. I thanked the 800 lady, hung up, and joined Anne. The agent at the counter was yawning from fatigue. They had been working a long, no break day due to all of the fogged out trips. None the less, we were greeted with a smile and, "How may I help you?" That was certainly a good start.

"Let's see now. The soonest, and nearest flight we can get you on will be flying out of Klamath Falls." All of the flights leaving Medford, assuming no more fog, were booked solid beyond December 20.  We told the agent, yes. Book us.

This is Tuesday evening. The flight from Klamath Falls (LMT) to Portland, Chicago, and Fort Wayne wasn't leaving until 6am, Thursday. We were given itinerary stubs and told to present them to United at LMT to exchange for boarding slips for our flights.

We left Medford at 2pm the next day for our hour and half drive over the mountains to Klamath Falls. Anne had booked a night for us at the Maverick Motel, on Main Street. We would rise early, drive to the airfield, and begin our real journey. First, however, we Google mapped our way to the terminal to exchange the schedule stubs for our boarding passes. Whoa. Nobody home. The next available assistance will be at 4:30am, tomorrow. Well, at least we now know how to get to the airport. Not a wasted trip.

Klamath Falls airport is home to Kingsley Air Force Base. Kingsley is a training base for F-18 pilots. Although United was a no-show this afternoon, the USAF is always good for putting on a presentation.

From the airport we drove to the city's visitor's center so we could pick up a city map. Anne was also eager to find out where the Kla-Mo-Ya Casino was located. The logic seemed to be: we haven't eaten dinner yet, and all casinos have restaurants. It was a 50mile round trip to Chilloquin, but the meatloaf and mashed potatoes were worth it. We were both tucked into bed with our books by 7pm Wednesday night.

We wanted to be at the airport by 4:30am, Thursday. Both of our phone alarms sounded together at 3:45am. This is a plus for travelers. The Klamath Falls airport has free parking, for a month. That should do us.

The two United  agents served two queues, one for PDX, and one for SFO. After an awfully lot of one-finger keyboard pecking, Anne had boarding passes for the Portland and Chicago legs. I had a pass for the Portland leg. At PDX, I needed to get my boarding pass for the Chicago leg. When we arrived in Chicago, we would both then need to front up to an American Airlines counter to pick up passes for the last leg of the trip to Fort Wayne. This was working ok. I had a window seat in 23F, and Anne was found in 27D for the long flight to Chicago.

At ORD, in Chicago, we had nearly two hours to hike the three terminals to the American Airlines gate our flight to Fort Wayne was to depart from. We both had very achy legs by the time we found the gate. We presented the United schedule stubs for the flight to the American agent. After a period of keyboard pecking, the agent conferred with his desk mate. They had found the passenger entry that had been made by the United agent in Medford two days ago, but our seating hadn't been confirmed. We were told there were no remaining seats on the plane. They couldn't rebook us, because it was United's responsibility. We needed to walk back one terminal until we found a United counter, and agent.

Luck was with us, we came upon a United customer service desk. There were no flights remaining from Chicago to Fort Wayne. "Where would we like to fly to instead?" After much cajoling we called Matt to ask which of the choices we had for Indiana cities was closer to drive to for him to pick us up. Indianapolis was the pick. That flight left in less than an hour, and we were booked.

The United agent recommended we take the shuttle to the C terminal, to save us from the long trek. The shuttle line was just across the corridor, but the wait may be as much as 15 minutes. I asked the shuttle attendant how long it would take us to walk the distance. He told us it was a 20 minute walk. So, we waited. The shuttle got us to the correct terminal and we hustled to the gate. We were late, but the doors were still open. The gate agent tried to scan our new boarding passes, but they wouldn't read. With his right hand, he just waved us through the doors. Apparently, this man had been through a bad day, too.

We were assigned seats 24C&D. The last seats, in the last row, but we aboard for the 35 minute puddle jump to Indianapolis. Matt was on the road, and he would meet us in a little under two hours.

Thursday had been a long day, but it wasn't over yet. We needed to stop at the Fort Wayne airport to pick up the bags which flew unattended on American from Chicago. It is against FAA regulations to have bags on a flight which are unassigned to a passenger, but that hadn't come up in any conversations with agents.

Fort Wayne International Airport baggage claim doesn't have an office which holds unclaimed baggage. We were told we had to go to the airline's ticket counter, where they could help us. The ticketing was just around the next corner.

There was Delta. There was United and Allegheny, but there was no American. I asked the agent at the Delta counter where we might find the bags which had come in on American. He asked us, "What was the name?" I thought the question odd, but I told him. "I think I saw a couple back there", he said. Within two minutes the agent was dragging our bags through his rear door.

It never would have dawned on me to inquire at the Delta desk for bags which came on an American flight, that had been non-booked by a United agent, whose planes weren't flying out of Medford two days earlier. We were happy to be reunited, and Anne was pleased I hadn't tried to explain to the Delta man how he had ended up with our luggage. As rigid as airport security is, I was surprised we weren't asked to show our claim tickets. I take that back. After the "cluster €£¥%" this trip had been, nothing about flying today surprises me.

Man, it was great to see Matt, and the family, and to be in the comfort and security of their wonderful home. This was going to be a joyful Christmas, after all.

Bottle Buddy

What to do with wine and beer bottles? Bottle Buddy can help turn them into collector glassware, suitable at least for the Man cave.

 

 

        

Start with some scrap wood, a length of ~3/4” o.d. pvc, wood screws, glass cutter, clamp, small strip of old inner tube, and some wood glue. A small turnbuckle may be useful, too.

The box measures ~14” long x ~5” wide x ~ 4” high. Blocks were added underneath to permit the clamp to slide beneath.

Center the holes for the pvc at: 1” from inside of back; ~2 ¼” apart; and ~5/8” above inside floor.

Drill holes with ~7/8” bit. This will prevent holes from binding the turning action of the pvc. Cut the pvc so a half inch extends from each end of the box.

Predrill all holes and use a countersink to keep screw heads flush. The left end is cut lower to prevent interference with long-neck bottles.

                                                                                                           

The glass cutter is mounted in a movable piece of wood. Drill a 1/8” hole in the center of the flat of the cutter’s handle. Drill a hole, ~3/8”, at 1” up on block of wood. Then drill a hole from the top center which just intersects the first hole. The second hole can be small enough for the head of a wood screw to slide through. Pre insert a wood screw into the hole of the cutter and remove it; to cut a thread pattern. Assemble the cutter in the hole. Leave a ~1/8” gap beneath the head of the screw and the flat of the cutter’s handle. This gap will permit up & down movement of the cutter head; needed to adapt to differences in bottle diameters.

A third, counter sinking hole is added to the block. This hole is used to insert a wood screw far enough for its end to protrude from the underside of the block. This added “pin” will help position the block before it is later clamped to the box.

On the rear of the cutter block screw, and glue, left and right side pieces of wood tight to the edges of the cutter handle. This is important in minimizing sideways wobbling of the head.

Cut a 1” wide x 6” long strip of stretchable rubber and fold it in half. Punch holes through the ends to allow the ends to be slipped over the rear of the cutter handle.  At the center fold, punch a small hole through which the end loop of a small turnbuckle, of “S” clip can be inserted.

With the rubber attached to the handle, clamp the cutter block to the top of the box. Where the block is clamped depends on how tall a glass is to be made. If a 12oz glass is desired, then use a measuring cup to fill the bottle with 12oz of water. Allow a ½” or more extra height, and mark the bottle.

Now where to clamp the cutter block is made easier.

With cutter block clamped in place, stretch the rubber to attach its turnbuckle, or S-clip to the top of the clamp.

 

The rubber strap is meant to add downward cutting pressure on the head and thus free both hands to carefully turn the bottle. The cutter head is lifted so a bottle can be inserted onto the pvc rails.

 

With the butt of the bottle pressed against the right hand end, gentle spin the bottle on the pvc rails towards the rear wall. As the bottle nears a full turn the etch line will come up from beneath. Continue turning until the etch lines meet, no further. If the cutter head is not easily etching the glass, tighten the lifting pressure with the turnbuckle. If the pvc rails do not spin freely, that is not a worry as the bottle will still rotate easily.

 

 

Etching the bottle is the first step. Next the etch needs to turn into a fracture line. The etched bottle can be immersed into a container of hot water, hold for 15 – 20 seconds, and then hold under cold tap water. A crisp snap may be heard, if not, repeat the hot then cold water. After one or more cycles, the top will part from the bottom without any tugging.

The next step is to make the rim of the new glass safe to drink from. An easy approach is to use a flat table sander fixed with an 80grit, or finer belt. Hold the lip to the moving belt, and with moderate pressure gently spin the glass back and forth. Inspect the lip. Continue sanding until the lip shows no clear glass and is uniformly dull in shade.

Next, use wet & dry sand paper of ~120 grit and work over the outer, inner, and top. This takes the edge from the lip. Continue with finer grip paper, if desired.

When satisfied, and washed, try to slip the new glasses onto the shelf in the kitchen. If you encounter a high degree of spousal rejection, as was said at the beginning, they can always be used in the Man cave.

 

 

This is a set of glasses cut from large ale bottles. The glasses were measured to hold a pint of ale. 

America's Southwest - 2013

I have been mentally preparing for my second competition at the Huntsman World Senior Games since last October. I have practiced my archery daily, and I have improved. Anne, too, is prepared for the doubles tennis games she will play with her partner, Judy. Over the many years they have played together at these contests, they have done well.

The first day’s drive towards St George, Utah, took us from Medford to Fallon, NV. Fallon is a small city on Hwy 50 southeast of the I-80 freeway and hustle and bustle of Reno. Fallon is a military town and is host to the Fallon Naval Air Station. This had been an eight hour day in our Freeway Cloud and both of us were ready for a break.

Fallon RV Park is at the northern fringe of the city, well presented, and convenient to the highway. The early evening sky was just beginning to darken as we registered and found our way to site 22. On previous trips to the SW we had stayed in Fallon. In a car, the time to reach Fallon is only about five hours and the busy home of the Naval Air Station breaks the trip to St George in half.

Reservations had been made to stay at the Willow Winds RV Park in Hurricane, UT. The Senior Games are held in and about St George, but unless one books an RV spot a half year early there are no spaces available within the city limits. The city of Hurricane, pronounced locally as Hurricun, is eight miles east of St George on I-15, and about ten miles south of exit 16 on UT-9. 

The Virgin River was the source of water for the cotton fields Brigham Young was going to develop in this western Land of Dixie. I-15 doesn’t faithfully follow the course of the Virgin River, but the early Latter Day Saints did. Nestled by the river and at the base of a large range of mesas to the south, the valley was a perfect place to form a new settlement. I don’t think the city’s name was any accident. The winds often blew stiffly and would rock the RV late into the night.

We pulled into Willow Winds on the fifth of October and we stayed until the seventeenth. Although we were a ways away from our sporting activities, the park was a good hub for us. All we needed to do was account for an extra half hour travel time in our schedules.

Anne and Judy were occupied with their matches on the same days I had my archery. Anne dropped me off at the archery field at around 0830 and then drove to Judy’s home in Sunriver, off Exit 2, west of St George. We arranged to have me recollected around 1630, after I had finished each long day of shooting.

Anne and Judy were defeated in a tie-breaker during their grab for bronze. Anne had played the last minutes of their match with a pulled calf muscle. She didn’t complain about her pain at the time, but I know if she had been able to work her court with a focused mind, they would have worn home metals.

I, with an honest outlook, saw no metal in my future on the field. Day one was organized for practice and setting sights for the 60, 50, and 40 yard ranges. St George lays at about 3,500 feet elevation. This is only 2,000 feet more that I have been shooting, in Medford. I noticed that my arrows were striking the target a few inches high. Two thousand feet isn’t much, but the lower air density can cause this effect. I shot several ends at each of the three range distances and established new sight settings.

Day two was spent in the southern Utah sun for eight hours. The field had 32 targets set up. Each target had four archers assigned. The four archers shot in pairs, an A line and a B line. The archers took five minute turns at hitting their assigned targets. After both lines have shot their six arrows, they all walk to the target to score the end and pull their arrows. As soon as all the archers have left the field, a whistle is blown and each archer shoots six more arrows. Thirty arrows are shot at each of the three target distances. When 60 yards is complete, the teams bring their target butts up to the 50 yard marker. At the new distance there is an end shot by each archer as practice. Thirty arrows are then shot before the target butts are pulled to the 40 yard line. I was dragging my quiver by the time Anne picked me up.

Day three on the range was greeted with winds of 20mph, gusting to 28mph. I, and most of the other archers, had never experienced shooting in these conditions. We mused about how no archer, excepting those who may have fallen subject to ancient military courts martial, would have been spending such a day shooting arrows. Needless, I didn’t shoot well this day. Miller Time seemed very slow to come and I was glad to have my year two of the Huntsman World Senior Games under my belt, along with the contents of a cold tinnie.

At this point neither of us had any scheduled expectations. Anne brought out her sewing machine and I read and putzed around the rest of the week. Patti Stanalonis was flying in with her softball team, from Albuquerque, on Sunday. We stayed through Wednesday so we could watch a few of the games her team played while on their way to a well-earned Bronze for this year’s work.

Glen Canyon Dam

Thursday morning we pulled out of Willow Winds and drove south and east towards Chinle, AZ. We planned to arrive at Cottonwood Campground at Canyon De Chelly (pronounced Shay) later in the day, set up a base, tour the canyon the next day, and drive the remainder of the way to Albuquerque on Saturday. We over shot our turn off and drove a few miles beyond before we could find an opportunity to turn our large RV and towed Honda CRV around. We asked directions to the campground from a Navajo street vender and quickly found our way to the park; the directions hadn’t been posted for the campground when coming from the Chinle direction.

There was no one manning the check-in booth when we arrived at Cottonwood. We selected site 41, paid our $14 daily fee and pulled in. Cottonwood has over ninety paved parking slots. Number 41 was large enough for us to pull directly into. The campground had few visitors the two days we were there. It is nicely kept with plenty of shade trees protecting the all-natural landscaping. The daily fee of $14 was pleasant, but no hookups came with it. The RV’s diesel generator powered the microwave for dinner preparation and saw us till the 2030 campground quiet hour when we had to turn it off, along with the TV.  

With over 17 million acres, the Navajo Nation encompasses the entire northeast quarter of the state of Arizona and spills over into New Mexico and Utah. Vast areas of pristine wilderness, majestic canyons, high mountain meadows, dry deserts, flatlands and blue skies characterize the land of the Navajo people.  

Canyon De Chelly is two vertical walled canyons carved some 800 feet into a high desert mesa of Arizona beginning a couple miles east of Chinle. The canyons spread out to form a Y-formation with the base anchored on the map at Chinle. There are two rim drives with pull-over lookouts offering spectacular vistas of the agriculturally worked base of the canyon; home for many of the area’s Navajo.

Each rim drive, one to the northeast and one to the southeast, has eight lookouts. From some of the lookouts one can park and then walk trails to the edge of the wall. On the far side, often quite high on the opposite cliff, one can see ruins of ancient wall dwellings occupied by the ancestors of the basin’s more modern timber framed citizens. History of human habitation within the canyon dates back to times BC.

The SE rim drive was the more convenient one from the Cottonwood Campground. In fact, it was on this rim where, the day before, we had used one of the lookout pull-overs to re-direct ourselves to the RV park. The lookouts were sprinkled along the rim drive over a distance of 14 miles. We took our time and checked out the views from each one. The most spectacular stop was at the last one where we were able to stand at the rim and look eye-to-eye with the top of Spider Rock.

We have all seen the TV commercial where a woman stands at the top of a spire, gleefully spinning around while waving at the abundance of sights to see when using her Visa card. The top Spider Rock is her stage. Believe me. She did not reach the top by ascending the nearly 800 feet of this sheer vertical and smoothly sided stone without rotorcraft assistance. A fantastic sight, the stone stands beside a shorter off-spring in the middle of the Canyon De Chelly basin. It is amazing to consider that the weathering process, which carved this beautiful canyon, had come to such a well-defined mass of erosive resistance when it came to this plug of stone.

Walking the gentle trail along the edge of the canyon at the Spider Rock lookout was the height of our visit to Canyon De Chelly. Most of the lookout parking lots had one or more vendors displaying their hand-crafted jewelry on blankets they had spread over the hoods of their cars, or pastels they had painted on small slabs of sandstone and placed neatly on the ground near the edge of the sidewalk. The paintings depicted traditional Navajo icons, or scenes remembering a feature of the canyon. Yes, we found some jewelry, and a painting that couldn’t be passed up.

We didn’t have time to also tour the northeastern rim lookouts. We were satisfied we had seen much of the best there was to see of the diverse canyon’s sights.

The next morning we were early to pull away from the campground. Our intent today is to reach our friends, Patti and ‘Stan’ Stanalonis, in Albuquerque by the middle of the afternoon. This leg of the trip was only a couple hundred miles and we weren’t in any great rush. I have learned that fuel economy is maximized with the Horizon diesel pusher when the 350hp Cummins’ rpm is kept at its ‘sweet spot’. For us, that was just shy of 1500 rpm, which happens when our speed was kept at 55 mph. This has been our cruising speed, back road or freeway.

Most of the off freeway travel through Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico is over high desert plateau highways which have been carved straight as arrows between one mountain ridge to the next. The road’s gentle undulation creates opportunities for the 6-speed automatic transmission to shift into and out of a lower gear range. This, in turn, permits the Cummins a short window of higher revolution and destruction of our previously achieved miles per gallon records. On cruise control, and with a steering wheel gently gripped by a hand braced with softly contoured leather armrests, the miles drifted by at between 8 and 10mpg

There is, however, much to be desired about the outback’s highway construction. Many of these roads have been newly resurfaced. Some, however, as were the ones we found ourselves on this morning, must have been worked upon by a tribe of the Navajo who go by the name: Clan of the Road Painters. This clan’s vocation is to spread streaks of tar onto the highway and seal cracks which have formed due to the ever expanding and contracting substrate below the pavement. The result of this clan’s hard labor is hundreds of miles of brain numbing vibration interrupted by short respites of newly resurfaced roadway.

Albuquerque Central KOA Campground is immediately south of I-40 at the Juan Tabo exit. We were assigned to site 121 and in a few minutes were set up for a week’s stay.

Albuquerque’s roads are laid out on a rectangular grid. This architecture makes it a very convenient town to navigate. Juan Tabo runs north and south for several miles. Patti and Stan’s home is just 3.2miles north of the KOA, off Comanche Road. I abhor metropolitan traffic environments. I have to admit, however, the driving experience in Albuquerque is very non-threatening.

We have been friends for many years and we wouldn’t think of traveling in the SE without visiting Patti and Stan. Stan and I couldn’t have been in better hands. Anne and Patti mapped out excellent ideas for things for us to see and do while we visited the southeastern part of New Mexico.

Anne and I decided that since we may never again travel so close we should visit Carlsbad Caverns. A three day trip was mapped out that would take us to The Inn of the Mountain Gods at White’s City, a few miles outside of Ruidoso, NM. We would stay at the Inn following the day’s drive to Ruidoso. The next day we would drive to Carlsbad, spend the day visiting the caverns, and return to the Inn for a second night. The third day we would return to Albuquerque, via Alamogordo.

We met at Patti and Stan’s for breakfast and packed the back of Anne’s CRV for the journey. Stan drove the first leg south on I-25 which took us past Socorro, where one could turn off if he wanted to visit the National Radio Observatory VLA Telescope. Last year, when I caravanned in the Vanaroo with Dave, Joy, Chris, Jennifer, and the boys, we got to visit the very large array observatory. It was definitely impressive.

San Antonio is eleven miles south of Socorro and Stan turned eastward on Hwy 380. Four miles from San Antonio we came to a traffic stop. At 1100 there was going to be a missile launch from somewhere near Gallup and the missile was programmed to land in the White Sands desert. Hwy 380 takes one past the White Sands Missile Range and Trinity Site, which is home of the first explosion of an atomic bomb. Police officers dispatched from the White Sands’ base set up roadblocks for the routine missile reliability tests. The roadblocks leave deserted a 16 mile stretch of Hwy 380 for the flyover. The launch had been delayed half an hour so we got to visit with the officers and inspect the roadside desert flora.  Drats. None of us spotted the flyover.

Our only scheduled stop today was to be at the Smokey Bear Museum located in Capitan. It had been after a fire in the Capitan forests that a Ranger had found Smokey the Cub clinging low on a tree trunk. Smokey had suffered some small amount of injury during the blaze so the Ranger took him to a shelter for healing. Smokey was later flown to the Washington Zoo, in Washington D.C. It was while he lived at the zoo that Smokey Bear became the World’s icon in the effort to prevent man caused forest fires. Smokey lived to the age of 26 and was buried in a garden spot at the Capitan museum. This had been a fun and relaxing break in the day.

The city of Ruidoso is a few miles south of Capitan. The city is carved out of rolling hills which are part of the Mescalero Apache Tribe’s reservation. Ruidoso is a wintertime skier’s haven, hosted by 12,003 foot high Sierra Blanca Peak, and a year-round artisan village akin to that of Taos. The shops of Ruidoso were going to be must see for Anne and Patti.

The Inn of the Mountain Gods Resort and Casino is a few miles out of Ruidoso and close to a small town called White’s City. The very stately resort popped into sight suddenly when rounding a bend in the curvy mountain road. We were assigned close-by rooms on the 7^th floor. Each room had a balcony overlooking the mountainside golf course, an adjoining lake, and a distant view of Sierra Blanca Peak. After unpacking the ladies dismissed themselves for a quick checkout of the casino. Stan and I chose to share a couple of tinnies while resting ourselves in the sun warming his balcony. We shared work experience stories and enjoying the magnificent scenery. 

As dinner time rolled around we found ourselves at the casino’s buffet. The meal selection choices didn’t strike us as being as diverse as we had looked forward to. We were in agreement that this would be are last meal at that restaurant. A few slot machines needed to be tested on the way back to our rooms. We all enjoyed an early turn-in to ready us for a busy day tomorrow.

The drive to Carlsbad took us over more mountains and across more vast savannahs.  We passed through small roadside villages such as Hondo and Tinnie, which was my personal favorite; Roswell and Artesia are both large cities at crossroads with major New Mexico highways.

The name Roswell is synonymous with UFOs. An airborne object crashed on a ranch near Roswell, New Mexico, in June or July, 1947. Explanations of what took place are based on both official and unofficial communications. Although the crash is attributed, by the U.S. government, to a U.S. military surveillance balloon, the most famous explanation of what occurred is that the object was a spacecraft containing extraterrestrial life. Since the late 1970s, the Roswell incident has been the subject of much controversy and conspiracy theories.

Religion, politics, and Roswell are areas of conversation guaranteed to solicit audience participation. So it happened that many miles of this morning’s three hour drive to Carlsbad were swept away unnoticed, consumed with our own theories of what really may have happened near Roswell.

During the late 1800s Eddy County, New Mexico was largely know as cattle country.  In 1902, Carlsbad Caverns were discovered. How the caves were actually discovered is a bit disputed, but the most accepted story attributes the finding to Jim White. As the story goes, Mr. White was looking out over the rolling hillsides adjoining his share of Eddy County and he spotted smoke rising in the distance.  White set off to investigate the cause of the dark spire. When he arrived closer he could see that what appeared to have been smoke was actually a vast number of bats escaping a hole in the ground. The rest is history.

The caves, located in the Guadalupe Mountains, are now known as Carlsbad Caverns National Park. Jim White spent many years investigating the vast network of caves. He is attributed to naming most of the rooms in the caverns and to bringing the Carlsbad Caverns to national attention.

We arrived shortly after 1300. Guided tours for the day had ended but we could still do a self-tour of the Big Room. The Big Room is a natural limestone chamber which is almost 4,000 feet long, 625 feet wide, and 255 feet at the highest point. It is the third largest chamber in North America and ranks seventh in the world.

A little while ago, some 250 million years, the area surrounding Carlsbad Caverns National Park served as the coastline for an inland sea. Present in the sea was a plethora of marine life, whose remains formed a reef. In time, the sea had evaporated and the reef was buried under sediments.

The Park sits in a bed of limestone above groundwater level. During cavern development, however, the limestone bed was within the groundwater zone. Deep below the limestone are petroleum reserves (part of the Mid-Continent Oil Field). At a time near the end of the Cenozoic, hydrogen sulfide (H2S) began to seep upwards from the petroleum into the groundwater. The combination of hydrogen sulfide and oxygen from the water formed sulfuric acid: H2S + 2O2 → H2SO4. The sulfuric acid then continued upward, aggressively dissolving the limestone deposits to form caverns. The presence of gypsum, a byproduct of the reaction between sulfuric acid and limestone, is a confirmation of the occurrence of this process.

Once the acidic groundwater drained from the caverns, speleothems (where is John Mignone when you need him) began to be deposited within the cavern. During the last million years erosion processes occurring above ground created the natural entrance to the Carlsbad Caverns. Exposure to the surface has allowed for the influx of air into the cavern. Rainwater and snowmelt percolating downward into the ground picked up carbon dioxide. Once this water reached a cavern ceiling it precipitated and evaporated leaving behind a small calcium carbonate deposit. Growths from the roof downward formed through this process are known as stalactites. Additionally, water dripped onto the floor of the caverns contained carbonic acid and generate mineral deposits when it evaporated. Growths from the floor upward through this process are known as stalagmites. Different formations of speleothems include columns, soda straws, draperies, helictites, and popcorn. Changes in the ambient air temperature and rainfall affect the rate of growth of speleothems, as higher temperatures increase carbon dioxide production rates within the overlying soil. The color of speleothems is determined by trace amounts of different minerals in the formation.

Hold on there, Bob. That’s a little more geology than we really needed to know. The short version is that the Big Room consumed an hour and half of walking on well railed paths which took us past spectacular stony things cleverly highlighted in the, otherwise beyond just dark, cave.  The vastness of this cave network is unbelievable. The park contains additional networks of caverns White never knew existed. Many of those caverns are closed to public viewing and are reserved for scientific research only.

It was early evening by the time we returned to the Inn of the Mountain Gods for our last night’s stay. In the morning we were going to drive to Alamogordo on our way home to Albuquerque. We had worked hard while in the Caverns today and the beds were welcomed.  

Alamogordo is the gateway to White Sands Proving Grounds and home of the New Mexico Museum of Space History. Inside and outside of the museum is displayed the history of the World’s missile and rocket development. From Copernicus to John Glen and beyond: artifacts and descriptions of achievers in the rocket sciences from all corners of the globe are presented in this four story building.

As one sees when visiting places like the Smithsonian buildings in Washington, there is just too much to take in on one time-limited visit. The Museum of Space History is the same. Knowing such museums exist, and having had a glimpse of them, leaves one the opportunity to have reflections on the true greatness of man’s inventions; born out of both curiosity and survival.

Jack and Margie Mortley are very dear friends of Patti and Stan. Jack is the person I had bought the Triumph Stag from in 2006. Anne and I wanted to have an opportunity to visit with all of them together. Anne decided she would like to use the crock pot to prepare a chicken-chili dinner on Saturday and have them share it with us in the RV.

The meal and the evening were great successes. Jack and Margie also have a motorhome and they enjoyed looking ours over and sharing a few of their travel experiences. I asked Jack what special cars he still had in his barn and he told me of a classic Saab he wouldn’t mind selling me. We all pretty much agreed that the sale wouldn’t go through.

Patti and Stan had us over the next day for a brunch. Anne and Patti dashed off to visit a quilting outlet store at least that was their story. Later in the afternoon we were called and told they were having a wonderful time at the Route 66 Casino and that they would meet us later at a Nob Hill restaurant. That was ok. Stan and I had been watching NFL football and we were happy to let them buy us dinner with their winnings.

The restaurant on Nob Hill, in an original section of Albuquerque, is located on Central Avenue. Central is a section of the old Route 66 highway. A softball friend of Patti’s is a singer who was performing tonight with her band. We had a wonderful final meal together. But now it is time to return to the KOA and prepare for tomorrow’s early departure towards home.

We planned on a fairly short drive for our first day heading northwesterly back to Medford. I was only a couple hundred miles to Durango, CO. The initial miles took us through some very familiar territory. We exited I-25 at a city called Bernalillo, NM.

When I caravanned with Dave, Joy, Chris, Jennifer and the boys a year and half ago we had stayed at an RV park in Bernalillo. This park was alongside the Rio Grande river and if afforded us a great couple of days. Further along Hwy 550N, during that same trip, we had found a remote BLM trailhead parking area located several miles up a bumpy dirt road near the Zia and Jemez Pueblos. That, too, had been some great camping.

The highway beyond the Jemez Pueblo was new territory for both of us. It was an anxious drive for me today. All of the highways to this point were ones I had traveled alone, or with Anne, more than once in the last few years. Breaking new trails in a Vanaroo, or a sedan, is not too bothering. If you miss a critical junction, you just do a U-turn where convenient and correct your error. When you are piloting a 40 foot behemoth with an additional 12 feet of ride-along towed behind, U-turns are no longer an option.

Anne and I had carefully gone over the route to Durango. I circled critical intersections on the map and Anne faithfully kept an eye peeled for flags of change. The passage through Cuba, NM had been no sweat. The highway triangle associated with Bloomfield, Farmington, and Aztec was a bit of a worry. If you could magnify the road map way big, you may notice that at Bloomfield there is a very small jog to the right on Hwy 550N, before it goes on to Aztec.

We came to just one stop light in Bloomfield. This was at a very busy intersection, and one at which new concrete turn lanes were being built. The construction led to greater congestion than normal at this traffic light. We look carefully for signs that may suggest a route change, but we saw none. I crossed the highway when the light turned green.

We were instantly driving into a very residential section of Bloomfield. This was clearly no longer Hwy 550N. After a few blocks, and a lot of driver profanity, we found ourselves at a stop sign labeling the roadway to be Hwy 550N. Anne cleared traffic to the right, and I cleared to the left. When I pulled out there was a pickup on the right. This is when you can’t stop in the middle of the road and let the vehicle go by. This is when you gently pull into your lane confident the other driver sees you and that he knows where his break petal is located.

Option 1: There had never been a turn right for Hwy 550N sign at that stop light or, Option 2: The construction process had seen it removed.  Either way, we hadn’t found the residential section of Bloomfield to be that hot, and we had made it back on track safely. There were only a few dozen miles left before Durango, and the rest of the drive went well.

Durango, CO is located in a river canyon and is approached from high above via Hwy 550N. The road offers non-guard railed glimpses through shoulder foliage of the city nestled way below, while the pathway brings you in a swooping downhill, full engine brake drive around a continuously blind corner. The road then straightens out and flattens into a typical urban setting.

I had programmed the address to Alpen Rose RV Park into my batphone. The phones GPS guidance system has served us well. We didn’t question the directions we were getting from the phone until it led us down narrow; tree shrouded 12^th street and announced we had arrived. There was no RV campground anywhere near the city hall buildings on 12^th street. When I looked at the instructions I had given the phone, I discovered it had dropped the park’s street address and had just left Durango, CO.

The second time with the GPS was a charm. Alpen Rose is a beautiful RV park. We learned upon checking in that this was the last night the park would be open the rest of the year. We got all set up and had time to watch the sunset over the nearby cliffs. We drove downtown on Main Street to find a nice place for dinner.

Durango is a city of 18,000. It is home for a university and has a booming tourist trade during the summer. Nearby there are several notable ski slopes so there is good business during the winter months, as well. Parking spots were slim on the street this evening. We found one a block away from where we wanted to eat. Most of the shops were still open and they all looked fun to browse in. The restaurant was a busy Tex/Mex pub and we both enjoyed our choices.

Tomorrow we needed to cross Utah. The selected route would take us through Moab and up to I-70W. On I-70 we would drive to Richfield’s KOA campground, off Exit 40. Utah is famous for its rock monuments and we pulled over several times to take in these natural wonders. We would like to travel back to Moab, stay for a while, and try to consume some of its beautiful surroundings.

Back at the RV, I studied maps to see where we could drive tomorrow. Ely, NV looked good, but it wasn’t very far on our crossing of Nevada. We had stayed in Fallon on our trip south. There weren’t many options between the two towns. We decided to drive early to Ely, have a comfortable lunch and a nice break, and then trek on to Fallon.

There are a lot of mountains running north and south between Durango and Fallon. The Cummins diesel put in a good day’s work. From high desert plateaus covered with sage-like scrub, over snow shouldered passes reaching near 8,000 feet, back down to what looked like endless square miles of barren, untended mud flats, we took in a lot of wonderful north western America today.

The sun was approaching the highway as we drove US 50 west into Fallon.  We had passed a sign when we first joined Hwy 50 in eastern Nevada. The sign read: Highway 50, the loneliest highway in America. I think it can hold its head high. The RV has terrific automatic sun visors but there is a 4” gap between the windshield post on the side and the edge of the visor. The highway and the sun had aligned themselves such that I had to try to constantly dodge my head left and right to keep the sun out of the gap. This wasn’t the kind of conditions I wanted upon entering downtown Fallon. But, that’s what we got.

We cautiously passed through town and found the RV Park at the city’s northern fringe. They had the reservation Anne had called in yesterday, but the woman who had taken the data had miss-dated it and we were told it had been canceled. No worries, there were plenty of spaces available.

All RV teams form a natural routine of duties when setting up, and when taking down. We have started to find a comfortable grove. I went outside to connect power, cable, water, and sewer while Anne extended the sides and arranged chairs and the kitchen. When I came back inside, she asked me, “Was I ready for my beer?”  Yes, she is a fantastic traveling mate.

Tomorrow would take us across northern California and then into Oregon. Anne asked if I would like to drive into Fallon for dinner and a stop at the casino. I was pooped and declined. She would bring back some dinner for us. I would take a bit of time to rest and enjoy my tinnie.

Anne held the flashlight while I disconnected the CRV from the tow hitch. She got the keys and reported that there was no power in the battery. No problem. After the last time the battery had been zapped by something while we towed the CRV, we had bought a pair of 16 foot jumper cables.  The long cables would comfortably reach the rear batteries of the RV. Anne popped the hood and I showed her how the cables were connected. The car started right up.

Before she backed away, Anne said she noticed she had left the glove box open and her theory was that it may have drained the battery. Towing the CRV has caused a low battery twice, so far. I definitely need to talk to the Guaranty RV folks when we get home. There may be something amiss with the wiring package they had provided when they installed the car’s front towing hitch.