WInter Solstice

So here it is. The entrance of winter. The nights get longer and the days get colder. Flip flops have been replaced by snow boots and a walk down to the beach now entails shoveling a path down the hill to the entrance. And at the end of that shoveled path is a solid coat of white that makes it nearly impossible to tell when the beach has stopped and the lake has started, that is if you don’t take notice to the docks randomly sprouting up where, I suspect, the edge really is.



Yes, the time has come for taking shorter walks more often due to the threat of possible face frost. Many would say that I’m straight up just not prepared, which as much as I would like to think that I am prepared for anything all the time, I’d have to say that I may have to agree with them in this specific instance. But that’s okay. I’m pretty alright about taking shorter walks more often for now. I mean, you have to be flexible sometimes.
Good outdoor and winter gear. It’s one of those things I come across that takes so long to make the jump and almost every time I just wonder why I didn’t just do that earlier and realize that it is totally worth investing in. And then, although it seems that I should know better, the pattern is just repeated over and over with every piece of “investment” gear I end up buying.
It’s kind of like getting new tires. Everyone knows that they are one of the most important features on your car but it seems like the process gets stalled when it comes to getting new ones. And then when I finally get them I realize that half the problems I thought I had with my car were all due to ridiculously shabby tires and that I was very consciously driving a death trap every time I turned the ignition and attempted to drive anywhere.
Of course, I don’t do that anymore. That one finally stuck.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the emergence of winter. The lack of daylight. The cold. The snow. The chance to hibernate for a little. The snow started a couple of weeks ago and, with the exception of a few days last week, hasn’t come to a full end yet. There are times when just a few flurries are floating by and the skies are spotted with a distinctive blue. Then there are times that it’s tough to see the lake out the back window of our cottage.



They say that this is due to “lake effects,” though I’m a little unsure how to tell the difference between a true snowstorm and a storm that is brought upon by lake effects. This topic may need a bit more research to come up with a definitive answer. You can’t expect me to get this stuff right away…I am only a greenhorn in this area, you know.

So needless to say, with all this sporadic snow activity we’ve had lots of time to get comfortable in the rental cottage. Between taking walks, cooking, playing music, arting and crafts, well, most of our snow days have been eaten up pretty quickly.
I finally finished some knitting projects that I started during the summer. I was a little bit humbled after that first attempt I made at knitting but I guess, not everything can end up the way you want it on the first try.
My second attempt, a scarf of course (the next logical step after a pot holder), came out much more to my liking. I stayed within a thirty-stitch parameter for the entire length of the scarf and even incorporated a couple different yarns into the mix. Not too bad.



With a little more knitting experience under my belt and confidence in my technique (which to this day may still be the wrong technique, but hey, whatever works, right?) I upped the ante and used the same scarf pattern but incorporated into it different stitches and yarns. I was happy with the final product although it wasn’t exactly how I had imagined when it was finished.



This is when I learned about the importance of using yarns that are the same weight instead of my usual approach, which was to strictly match yarns based on color. The scarf ended up a little wavy, the thicker yarn making wider areas and the thinner making skinnier ones, but I use it everyday and it definitely serves its awesome purpose.

One of the most recent projects I finished was a little bit more of a crap shoot, not really knowing what I was going for until I got to a transition point. At first I thought about making it a soft laptop bag (I know, how frickin’ dorky). Then I thought maybe it could just be turned into another pot holder. They always come in handy, right?



In the end I decided on a simple shoulder bag (no, not a purse). I never really planned too far ahead for the next step of the process and didn’t have any real pattern to work off of, which made it fun to make but also meant that I had to redo a few steps in the process too. Oh well, it probably turned out better that way.
I am usually pretty hard on just about everything so I was also a little concerned with the durability and strength of the bag. I gave it a few week trial run to test her out and she passed with flying colors. I use it just about everyday and it seems to keeping up with me pretty well. If this doesn’t redeem my knitting status at least a little bit, well, I’m not sure what would.

Back From The Greatful Undead

So the leaves have finished their cycle and the final display of the last colors clinging to the trees have been shaken off their branches marking the ground with signs of the approaching season.


This is not the only evidence of this annual change though, you can feel the change in the air. There is a briskness that snuggles well into the interlude of seasons, not cold enough to complain about but past the point of having any chance of a warm breeze. During the day you rely on the power of the sun to bring warmth. After the sun drops below the horizon you bundle up. And first thing in the morning, well, you bundle up even tighter, walk outside and give your body a wake up call that coffee can’t even compete with.


And this was just the perfect weather backdrop for Halloween weekend. The night sky was clear, only being slightly highlighted by the half moon hanging low in the sky. We were invited to a costume party on Saturday night and although most of our things are still in storage in PA we did happen to bring our bagful of wigs and makeup (you obviously never know when you might need things like these). So with one day notice (and help from my mother’s old hippy wardrobe) we were able to pull together some costumes to make for some good first impressions.


One of the neatest things about going to costume parties, especially when you don’t know anyone anyway, is the casualness of conversations with strangers. You don’t know them, they don’t know you and to make it even better neither of you really knows what the other person looks like. I talked to a skeleton named Terry for half an hour and there is no way I would ever be able to pick him out of a lineup. I saw a vampire talking to a nurse. Batman talking to a witch. Julia Childs talking to the devil.
And there we were, just a couple of zombies caught in the wrong place at the wrong time back in 1967, shootin’ the breeze on a chilly October night.

Back To Life. Back To Reality.

Yep, it’s back to the norm. Back to schedules and paychecks. Back to alarm clocks and cups of coffee in the car on the way to work. And, most importantly, back to Sunday’s off!

I’ve never had much of a religious affiliation but I have to say that the one thing that I have taken from the Good Book is the observance of the day of rest. Even when we were on the road we participated in this weekly holiday hence promoting No Drive Sundays as one of our official policies. There’s just something about it though, the “feel” of a Sunday that is different than Saturday, even though they share the same weekend label. It’s the day when everything is just okay the way it is. There’s no reason to fuss or stress or rush anything that you do. And to feel no guilt when choosing your path for the day.

If you want to lay around in your sweats all day, immersing yourself in a story so deep that you lose hours of your day to an alternate world of words, there’s nothing wrong with that.
If you want to take a long, slow drive through archway canopies of trees alongside fields that only a month or so ago were blossoming with fruitful life just for something to do, that’s okay too.
Or if you decide to indulge in a refreshing, taste bud awakening beverage with your two eggs and side of home fries, I say why not?

Although this past Sunday we didn’t really do any of these things exactly the way they were just stated, parts of all those things did occur at one point or another during the day. And as cool as all of that was, I would have to say the best part of my Sunday was the afternoon walk we took with the dogs through forests and along seasonal sand covered backroads that weave in and out of the hills surrounding the cottage.



The conditions were ideal, a day warmer than most, a slight breeze sweeping through the tree tops, shaking the red and orange and yellow leaves, eventually jostling them from their limbs and falling lazily to the green cushioned forest floor.



The colors seemed to pop, exploding out of the page like one of those pop up books I remember as a kid, contrasting against the blue backdrop of the afternoon sky and the steadfast deep green of the sporadically placed pines mixed into the forest landscape.



Like I said, it was definitely one of those days when everything seemed to fit into place without effort. It was definitely a Sunday.

Shifting Gears

So things are here in Michigan are settling comfortably on our end. We're getting to know the area better everyday, learning more roads, short cuts and back ways to and from town. We’ve been trying to get into Traverse City most days, whether its to run errands or just simply walk around the streets to peak into shops. It’s not a terribly large town so it’s not like it takes a long time to figure things out, but it is a real pretty so it’s worth the trip just to walk around.

The downtown area sits in a little coobie hole on the bank of the west arm of the Grand Traverse Bay which flows into Lake Michigan about 25 or 30 miles north of here.


Seriously, doesn’t this picture look like it should have an advertisement for an exotic, and much needed, Caribbean vacation overtop of it. For a fresh body of water it’s hard to beat those colors…and the beach. I swear, that’s half the reason for moving here, just to be able to see this view almost everyday.

Boardman River also meanders through town, spilling into the bay at the edge of town. Some of the river has a slight feel of Amsterdam to it, with boats lining the canals as if they are the primary mode of transportation for those who own them…and probably their primary residence as well. The river is apparently also a decent little fishing spot with salmon as big as a toddler swimming around freely like they own the joint. Though the other day we saw a man fishing on the banks pulling out one of those suckers reinforcing the fact that they don’t indeed own the river after all. But, hey, it’s worth a shot, right? I have yet to get a fishing license, but I have the day off tomorrow so that may be the day. I mean it’s worth it. Especially if there are two foot long salmon cruising casually through nearby waterways, just waiting to be served on our dinner table. Mmmmm…you certainly can’t complain about that meal after a long day of work which, I might add, I just finished…the first in four months. Wow, that feels great to say. Both that I took four months off from working and that I started working again after four months. The whole cycle, for me personally, can be boiled down to a very delicate relationship between the two. Man I loved being on the road but, as sick as it sounds, it also feels good to be back at work, although I am only working part-time so I’m not really sure if that counts or not. But there is a part of RV life that I do truly miss, as there were also those things in stationary house life that I missed when we were in the RV. I guess that's the ebb and flow of life. Is the grass always greener? I don't really believe that it is but I do think that there are times that you need to take advantage of a very real opportunity that confronts you, even if only for a passing moment. I mean, after all, that is how we were able to sell the house and find our perfect motorhome in the first place. I believe that some things are truly meant to be and buying the Ultrastar was, from the first moment I laid my eyes on her, one of those defining moments.

Although we are no longer using her as our primary residence and source of transportation we are lucky enough to have the space to park her outside our cottage so not only do I get to look at that beautiful piece of machinery as soon as I wake up every morning, I am also able to open the door to her loving and welcoming interior anytime I want. To be taken in by her inner beauty. To be devoured in her round curves and the smooth lines of oak wood finish. To sit in her now is just as it has always been, comforting and warm, though we have emptied her out, taking out what we needed for our new home which deep down makes me feel incredibly unfaithful, like I'm cheating on her. I don't like to think of it like this but I feel like we've left her as an empty shell, just as we found her. Lost of a true personality, lost of her own identity. But I know this isn’t the way it really is and that she's not completely finished with what she was meant to do, where she was meant to go. And I don't feel like we're finished with her either. Let's face it…she's a 21 year old workhorse, tuned up and ready to spread her wings and fly on the endless highway whenever we need her to snap onto action.

For now, though, we'll let her rest on a soft sandy cushion under the shade of the pines and enjoy the life of the lakes just as we are. After all, even the most determined of us need to take a break once in a while. And, in our case, sometimes you need to shake out the cobwebs, dust off the boots and kick start the old engine to get it started again. But not without a true appreciation of what you've already been through, where you've been and what got you there.

Back To The Future

So Michigan it is!!! Yes, we decided to overwinter in a place that gets colder, has more snow and a longer winter than PA. And no, we're not nuts. Well possibly a little bit, but I don't think that had much to do with our choice. So we headed back from Wyoming..back to a spot that we spent a week at a little over two months ago. We also did it much faster than we did on the way out, taking only nine days to cover the same ground we just covered in over two months . It was a weird feeling to drive most of the days but once we decided to actually do this we were also pretty excited to get there and see what the scene was like. Although we did rush a bit on the way back (rush by our definition is apparently to drive more than five hours a week), we did get to camp on an island on the Mississippi River and spend a few nights along Lake Michigan on the southern side of the Upper Peninsula, a spot that we missed on the way out.



Opting to spend the winter in Michigan rather than in the southwest like we "planned" wasn't just a split second decision though…well it kind of was but it was a confident split second decision. It really was an area that we both felt we could possibly start something new, with all the things that we like to have around us, some of which we have yet to have in a homebase. Beautiful natural areas right outside our door, lakes just about everywhere you look, the largest freshwater source in the world at our fingertips, a decent job market, four microbreweries, a beach town feel. Well that's our list so far…though it may grow the longer we stay, who knows. For now, we're just trying out something that Kev and I have never done together in the ten years we've been married. We figured we might as well… we've got nothing to lose by trying.

So we have an eight month lease on a small cottage on Arbutus Lake, about six and a half miles south of Traverse City. The lake is actually five small lakes connected together, the cottage sitting on the south bank of the southernmost lake.



During the summer the cottage rents by the week so we have all of the conveniences of a summer vacation rental at our disposal…row boats, motor boats, docks, a small beach. Unfortunately we know that there we will only have a couple months to take advantage of it, but something is better than nothing, right?? And we always have ice fishing (beer drinking) in the winter which we have heard is a lot of fun. And don't forget ice skating and cross country skiing, not that I have ever really done either…so if I don't take this opportunity to try it, well, I should just curl up under my blanket and succumb to winter blues. Luckily we already have ice skates that we got a few years ago but never really had the chance to use in PA so that's one hurdle out of the way. Now we just need to pick up some cross country skis and a fishing license, which is cheaper with Michigan residency so yesterday I became an official Michigan resident…license, voter registration, a Michigan plate on my new set of wheels, which is probably (definitely) the nicest car I've ever had.



I mean, I'm 31 years old, don't I deserve it? I even promised Kev that I would do my best to keep it the nicest car I've ever had. Now all I need now is a job. But that will come and, quite honesty, I barely even started looking yet. Luckily it's a town driven on tourism so the service industry is pretty steady and I'm definitely not opposed to slinging coffee again for a while. But, in reality, I'm not really opposed to doing anything for a while to get things going and get our feet on the ground. Who knows what will happen, where we'll end up working, what we'll end up doing. All I know is that we have eight months to figure it out so it's worth giving it a solid chance…and if everything works out hopefully we'll still be in Traverse City next year at this time. And if not, well, the life we lived for the last three and a half months wasn't too shabby either.

Under A Sky So Blue

So Story lies on the eastern edge of the Bighorn Mountains, the easternmost range of the Rockies, in between and equidistant from the towns of Buffalo and Sheridan. Every road in town, except one, turns into dirt a mile or two outside of town and stops abruptly in a dead end. Appropriately so, the one lonely continuous road in town is a dirt road that doesn’t really seem to connect Story to anything that couldn’t be taken through another route. But it does go past the Wagon Box Fight Historical Site, a famous battle in 1867 between the U.S. Army and Lakota (Sioux) Indian tribes who were under the leadership of Crazy Horse and Little Wolf (there is speculation that Red Cloud had also played a part in the attacks though the truth behind this was never confirmed). Although the Sioux Indians had a larger army (estimated at 2,000), the U.S. had recently acquired new weaponry that the Lakota did not know about and could not match. The 9th Infantry, comprised of 31 men and protected only by 14 wagons lying end to end in a circle, survived repeated attacks by the Sioux. It is reported by Captain James Powell that his infantry of 31 killed an estimated 60 Sioux and injured another 120, although there was never a clear establishment of the true numbers of the encounter.

Boy do I get distracted…
Anyway, most of the other dead end roads in town lead to either historical sites or trailheads that enter the valleys of Bighorn National Forest. This has been a pretty convenient situation for us motorhome owners being that it’s not real practical to take down the awning and batten down the hatches to make a mere two mile jaunt to enjoy the trails within the forest. It adds three or four miles of road walking to the excursion but that’s definitely not a bad thing and the dogs certainly aren’t complaining about it.



We’ve all had a great time cruising the trails of the national forest, climbing hills that are higher than anything else we’ve hiked so far and taking in spectacular vistas of rolling dry land hills that seem to stretch the whole way to South Dakota.



Some hikes took us along creeks gushing with mountain melt off.





Some took us along ridges that led into fields of wildflowers and grasses. And there were always those idyllic spots to stop and eat lunch or think about our next move after Story, where we want to spend the fall and winter months. We knew from the beginning of the trip that this time would come, to consider our over wintering options, to consider what is most practical, most realistic for the next six months or so.
We originally thought we’d like to make it to the southwest for the winter season. Maybe store the Ultrastar in an RV Park, maybe get jobs, hang out in the desert for a while. But the way things have gone so far, with us sticking to the goal of going slow and stopping often, has put us in a slightly precarious situation. Here we sit, just east of the Bighorn’s, Bitterroot’s and the Cascades and north of the Rockies, during a time of year that can see weather changes quicker than a blink of an eye. It’s been getting into the low 40’s or upper 30’s most nights during the last two weeks, just an inkling of what to expect real soon as the norm. Yellowstone was even shut down for a day last week due to substantial snowfall. And we know this is just the beginning of a long winter for this region of the country. Do we make a run for it and continue through Wyoming and Idaho and hope that we don’t get stuck in a situation that we can’t dig ourselves out of? Do we zigzag around mountain passes in Colorado and Utah in hopes of finding a clear path to the southwest? Do we backtrack a bit to see what comes of that direction?
A decision will eventually be made and no matter what it is, it doesn’t really matter, because there is really no “wrong” choice here. Like they say, if it’s worth the going, it’s worth the ride.

There's A Story Behind Every Town

A few days at Keyhole State Park and we were off, on our way to a small town just east of the Bighorn Mountains…Story, Wyoming. Some friends of ours from PA moved to this town of 600 people a month or so ago and are settling into the scene seamlessly and comfortably. It didn’t take long to get there and by most other people’s driving standards we probably should have actually gotten there a week ago. But why rush? Especially when there’s so much that is easy to miss in between.
One of the reasons I think this country is great is just when you think you’ve possibly gone through the most barren areas of the U.S. your next drive is even more desolate than the one before. Although we have done fairly extensive traveling throughout the U.S. I had almost forgotten that there is still a lot of wide open space out there that hasn’t been built up with cookie cutter developments and strips malls offering the same things that are offered at the strip mall across the street. And that it doesn’t have to take you half an hour to drive eight miles. But there’s also the other side of things, the fact that in areas this spread out and open, well, you have to drive to get just about everywhere. For me, I think I’m aiming for the happy medium. I’m not exactly sure what I mean by that except that I really like the idea of getting everything you need in the town that you reside and not be forced into going to the SprawlMart stores off the exit ramp on the highway. To have conveniences that are accessible in a downtown area (grocery store, market, place to see music, etc.) but still be able to get to the next town over without too much hassle and without battling bouts of road rage. If anyone knows the town I’m referencing, please let me know because I’m not really sure where it is myself!

Anyway, back to Story. So we pulled into town just in time for the start of Story Days, a community celebration of town pride. There were plans for festivities all weekend including a dutch oven cookoff, a parade, food and craft stands, and live music. A pretty good scene for a town of 600. Well we missed the cookoff on Friday night though judging by the responses from the crowd the prepared foods were pretty impressive. There were lots of comments along the lines of “there’s no way the (insert food) was made in a dutch oven. I don’t believe it.” If that’s not a testament to the quality of the food that was offered, well I don’t know what is. I, myself, have never used a dutch oven but as far as I’ve heard you can cook anything to perfection in them. The atmosphere at the cookoff was real inviting, even for strangers like us. Bluegrass music resonated through the air and laughter was escaping from people everywhere you looked. You could tell this community had something going on.
Although we missed the cookoff on Friday night, we made sure not to miss the parade on Saturday morning with its eclectic representation of antique cars, the 7th calvary drum and bugle corps, cowboys shooting guns and a float created by the Story Women’s Club (which our friend Caroline was a part of).




There was a great mix of designs and organizations and fun was to be had by everyone during the parade. The winner for the best float went to the Story Book Tails (although we were rooting for Caroline, of course) which, I have to say, was a pretty awesome creation.

In addition to this being a big weekend in Story we also had tickets to see The Gourds (Austin, TX good-fun band) at the Babcock Theater in Billings, Montana on Saturday night. So we hit the road during the late afternoon and made our way two hours northwest towards Billings. Apparently the city of Billings doesn’t have the best reputation and, being that crystal meth detox centers lined the street on our way into town, the reasons behind this accusation were clear. But a town is a town is a town and we weren’t there to cast judgement or develop a concrete opinion of the area. We were there to see The Gourds!!






And being that we only ever saw them in PA, well, it was neat to see what a Montanian crowd was like (for the record, there were a bunch more hippies here than the PA shows we saw, but I could have expected as much). Overall well worth the two hour drive there, as well as the two hour drive home after the show (although I didn’t drive so I was able to catch a few zzzz’s in the back seat) and, as always, we look forward to seeing them the next time they’re playing a gig near us, wherever we may be.

And It Only Took Us Four Weeks To Get Through...

So we drove north from Custer, through Hill City, passing signs for Nemo, Silver City and Mystic, and finally making our way through Deadwood and out the northern side of the Black Hills. After four weeks in South Dakota we made the lunge and decided to jump the border, to get out while we could. Enter onto the stage…Wyoming.



Our first stop in Wyoming was Keyhole State Park, adjacent to Keyhole Reservoir and just a hop, skip and jump from Devil’s Tower.









It was a nice enough park, nestled snugly between large swathes of dry grassland, kind a like an oasis in the desert. There were no showers or flush toilets, but there were lots of swimming spots all around the reservoir. And herd upon herd of pronghorn scattered all across the open grassland. I guess seeing pronghorn in this area of the country is no different than seeing white tailed deer on the eastern side of the U.S. But the fact remains that the east coast doesn’t have pronghorns so no matter how common they are here, I’m still impressed with their presence. Unfortunately they are also extremely skiddish, alert and watchful so snapping a decent picture of them (especially with our entry level camera) is nearly an impossible task. Actually the closest I got to one at all was lying dead on a rock slab along a trail we were walking. It wasn’t as gross as you would imagine a decapitated pronghorn to be and I actually got a couple real cool shots but I’ll spare you some of the gore and only show the least offensive ones.

Oh, I Forgot About The Hills

So after three weeks of not seeing a decent stand of trees, we made it to the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was amazing how much we both missed the something as simple as a forest. Remember how I said it was so easy to forget what it was like to camp after being sedentary in Avon for two weeks? Well, it happened that quick with landscape too. And hills…well, I’m almost embarrassed at how long it’s been since I saw something that was higher than just a “rolling hill.” For that it’s easily been almost two months. But it was well worth the wait for the ponderosa pines and bur oaks. And the buffalo and mule deer. The big horned sheep, rattlesnakes and prairie falcons. Oh yes, it was well worth the wait. And the Ultrastar made it seamlessly through the windy, steep roads of route 16A. And through the tunnels with a height of twelve feet four inches. By the way, our thanks again to Dennis and Dix at Jurren’s Repair. We definitely couldn’t have climbed the hills to get here without them.
Yep, so the first day we were at Custer State Park was saw seven big horned sheep, four mule deer and lots of buffalo (of course). There was even one that came through the campground right before dusk and had no problem laying down and taking a load off at the bottom of the hill from our camp. We got some cool video footage but, sorry, no good pictures.
We decided that we couldn’t settle for just getting teased by trails that actually had hills to climb with a two night stay so we extended our visit for a third night to take advantage of the beautiful terrain. Friday morning we woke up to a bright shining sun, drank some coffee, ate breakfast and hit a seldom use utility road for a great six mile hike. We didn’t see a whole lot in the form of large wildlife (two dogs don’t exactly attract that type of thing) but we did see four nice sized buck, though I’m sure we didn’t see even a fraction of the animals that saw us. We ended the day as awesome as it started…with a fire roasted homemade pizza (and a small stromboli for the freezer) along with a side of greens topped with gorgonzola, red onion and raisins.


Yeah, we’re roughing it out here on the road. Roughing it smoothly I’d say!

These Black Hills sure are beautiful though. Craggy rock outcrops (rockin’out with your crop out) jutting out between magnificent stands of ponderosa pine. I know these pictures aren’t the best for showing off the beauty of it, but they will have to do.





There is quite a bit of brown needle evidence of mountain pine beetle infestations in bunches on the hillsides though. How the beetle works is the larvae burrow into the tree and feed underneath the bark in the spring, hindering nutrient flow throughout the tree. By late summer the beetle has depleted the tree of nutrients, the needles turning from green to red to brown and eventually killing the tree. While driving through the Black Hills we saw much evidence of entire hillsides that were completely wiped out due to infestations.



The management solution in Custer State Park is to keep the stands at a low to medium densities, hence creating stronger trees that may be able to defend themselves against the beetle attacks (due to the human influence of fire suppression tree stands have a tendency to grow in high densities causing beetle outbreaks to proliferate). Although the mountain pine beetle is a native species to the forests of western North America, it has provided its share of damage to these forests. In years past infestations were seen as a part of the forest’s system of self-management, a way of thinning out the weak, unhealthy pines to make way for the larger, more dominant pines within the forest. But the beetle has since then reached epidemic proportions for pines forests all over western North America, climbing north and into higher elevations. A primary concern, though, is not so much the impact they have had on ponderosa pine, as devastating as it has been, but the impact they are having on lodgepole pines. This pine species is a keystone species in these forest ecosystems, coevolving with Clark’s nutcracker in a mutualistic relationship (although keystone species should refer to a predator, it is sometimes referred to a non-predator species that appears to be critical to the processes within an ecosystem). You see, these pines cones do not open on their own accord. They either require high heat fires to spread their seeds or those trusty nutcrackers to use their long pointed beaks, seemingly adapted for this sole purpose, to break apart the cone to pull out the seeds and carry them to caching sites that, incidentally, favor whitebark pine establishment and growth. On a side note, these pines cones are also a primary energy source for grizzly bears for successful overwintering. The lack of this major source of fat (in pine nuts) could be problematic in that the grizzlies will try to substitute more meat in their diet to build up for the winter months, possibly creating harmful encounters with humans. So this isn’t just a simple story of the process of how one species impacts another but how a cascading effect could potentially destroy primary habitat and nutrient intake for crucial animals within the system.

Okay, the ecology lesson is over…for now.

Into The Great Wide Open

The first drive that we took was only about an hour and a half northwest of Avon to Platte Creek Recreational Area along the Missouri River.



It’s not that we didn’t trust the Ultrastar to do well on a longer drive but we thought that we might as well baby her after such a long stay in the hospital. We were both still a little tense on the drive, not playing any music along the way in order to keep our sense clear for anything that seemed abnormal. We were actually on the edge of being hypersensitive about the vehicle. But, seriously, can you blame us? Even though she ran like a dream the first two months of the trip she also ran sub-par for the ten test runs we took after she started to show symptoms of sickness. I hate to say it but it may take a few drives to once again build up my confidence in the girl. But we both know that she will overcome and shine through like a beacon in the night. Anyway, she made it there fine. She actually made it there great…as great as she had gotten everywhere that we’ve been so far (well, with the exception of Avon I guess).
It’s amazing that in only two weeks you can settle into a different lifestyle and so quickly almost forget about what you had been doing for the time before then. We had been away from camping for so long that we almost forgot how much we love to do it. And love it we sure do! Although we were very grateful for the spot at Jurren’s Repair and really enjoyed our stay in Avon, we were both relieved to be out in the open air beside the Missouri River.



I mean, after all, it is the reason we sold the house and bought our twenty-eight feet of love. For the opportunity to be out in this beautiful country of ours, talking with people from all walks of life and taking in all of these natural areas that were all designed just for our enjoyment. How lucky are we!!

I don’t know much about the might Missouri River except, of course, that Lewis and Clark and the forty-three others in the Corps of Discovery canoed the river going upstream a little over two-hundred years ago. At some point, though, they split into two groups, one to follow the Missouri to the headwaters and one to travel west by land. Unfortunately they had no idea that a few large mountain ranges lay in their path, throwing a wrench into their plans and extending their journey quite a bit.

Anyway, so we’re finally back into the groove, sitting around a blazing fire under star blasted skies (I know I already brought up the whole starry night thing but it really is a spectacular sight). Also two friends of ours, who are also on a two-plus month U.S. road trip and on their way to Duluth, Minnesota, were in the area, making Platte Creek our rendevous sight. It was awesome to see them especially being that they were only the second set of familiar faces we’ve encountered so far. Even though it had only been a little over two months since we had last hung out, there were plenty of stories to be told on both sides. They got much farther than we have since June, spending time in the southwest, cruising through California to the northwest and back east over the Rocky Mountains. Of course stories of Avon were forefront on our minds but descriptions of the Appalachian Mountains and shorelines of Michigan were not ignored. Originally they had only planned to stay until Sunday but we were able to, quite easily, convince them to stay with us until Monday (ever since the tire blowout in the U.P. on a Sunday we have designated Sundays as “no travel” days). So Monday morning we wished each other good luck with big hugs, said our good-byes and each headed off into opposite directions.

Our goal for Monday was to get to Badlands National Park, a three hour drive west. We were originally going to stay off the interstate (another little goal for the trip), but being that this was only the second run after Avon and the interstate has mile markers (just in case), the interstate it was. It was a real nice drive though. I mean, I guess it’s kind of a boring drive in that the exits are pretty far apart and there’s not much of anything in between. But there are always those wood billboards with hand painted descriptions of all the upcoming attractions every hundred feet or so to keep you entertained. The General Lee. The 1880 Town. The Badlands Petrified Garden. The World Largest Prairie Dog (not real, of course, but they do say it weighs six tons). And you can’t miss the signs for Wall Drug, the mother of all tourist traps.




Apparently the way it got so popular is that when people were making long journeys across the dry, hot land of South Dakota, Wall Drug advertised FREE ICE COLD WATER, a temptation not many people could easily pass by. So to this day they still offer ice cold water to those who stop in (and as far as I know it’s still free).

Anyway, the drive went really well and the Ultrastar ran like a gem, suppressing 99 percent of our breakdown paranoia (I think that no matter what vehicle you drive on a trip like this you almost always have at least a small part of you ready for it at any time). We still didn’t play any music during the drive (keeping those sense keen!) but I told Kev that on the next run we’re ROCKIN’!!
So, like I said, the land across the middle of South Dakota is pretty barren, beautiful yes, but definitely barren. Long segments of rolling hills followed by stretches of flat grasslands with interruptions of sunflower fields snuggled comfortably in between.




Then every forty miles or so you’ll come across a small town of a couple hundred people to break up the monotony. But being that they are so small you drive past them quicker than the blink of an eye and then back into the great wide open.
I used to get a little uncomfortable with big open spaces, kind of like the opposite of claustrophobia (there has to be a name for it, I just don’t know what it is). I always chalked it up to living in an area where even if there aren’t a ton of houses (which is a hard feat in southeastern PA) there were hills to obscure seeing things even a few miles away. It gave me a sense of security whereas the open space left an opportunity for vulnerability. After being forced to be in Avon for a couple of weeks (I hate to say it that way, but it is kind of true) and having the time to take in the openness, I don’t have those feelings anymore. I’m not saying that Texas and parts of the southwest still don’t freak me out a little, but I’ll save my issues with that for another time.

One of the neatest things about driving into the Badlands from the east is that you’ve just traveled through hundreds of miles of open grasslands with nothing else in sight. You turn south onto route 240 from I-90 and all of the sudden enter into a whole new world. This is no exaggeration either. It seriously looks like a planet that Captain Kirk and Spock would beam down to from the Starship Enterprise.





Just out there in the middle of nowhere, sitting unsuspectingly amidst the barren lands of South Dakota. Absolutely remarkable!! Unfortunately dogs are not allowed on any of the trails in the park (bummer) so we were restricted to traveling along the main roads throughout the park. It’s not like it mattered though. There was beauty everywhere you looked, no matter if you were walking on roads or trails or just sitting outside the RV watching the bluebirds and magpies playing in the fields…or just snatching up whatever the last campers left behind.

Part Four: On The Road Again

It’s amazing that we have been in Avon for almost two weeks and I have yet to bring up the stars out here. Growing up in an area that, even though parts of it may have been rural, the residual light pollution from surrounding cities always had an effect on the amount of star coverage in the sky. And quite honestly, living in Lancaster city for the past six years, well, the nights that I could pick out even a handful were few and far between. Out here in Avon, South Dakota, even with us being camped out beside a garage that has floodlights shining on us all night long, we’ve been seeing the Milky Way almost every night. Some nights it simply just takes your breath away…feeling yourself get lost in the vastness of the night sky and the open land that supports such a magnificent scene. Some nights it can almost bring you to tears…

So, although it has been a test of our patience to get this vehicle working we have also had a great opportunity to check out an area of the country that we never really gave the time to before.



During all the trips that we have taken together eastern South Dakota has always been an area that you drive through as fast as you can to get to the next spot on the map (like Ohio). Usually the Black Hills if we were coming from the east and home to PA if we were coming from the west. But sometimes there are other forces at work in these situations and all you can do is go along with the plan. Not to say you should throw your hands up in defeat but instead let what is supposed to happen just happen and see what comes out with the wash. I think that this general attitude has really helped us enjoy the fact that, although we are both antsy to get back on the road, this may be a good opportunity for us to explore some uncharted territories for us. At least that’s what we keep saying to ourselves so that maybe we won’t go a little insane with the helpless feeling we’ve had in dealing with our situation.



Dennis wasn’t ready to give up on us though. He still had a few more ideas up his sleeve and was determined to figure this out. As you might remember, when we first pulled into town almost two weeks we had Ray replace the fuel pump, which he did. But he replaced it with an electrical pump and bypassed the mechanical one that the Ultrastar was designed with. The next idea was that maybe the new pump was not working adequately for the 454 system (pumping too much fuel) so we ordered a new mechanical pump, scheduled to arrive on Tuesday afternoon. Dennis cleared out appointments for Wednesday promising to dedicate his entire morning to us. Being true to his word, he was underneath the Ultrastar first thing the next morning. So out with the old pump and in with the new one. He also wanted to check to see if the timing was where it was supposed to be (which it wasn’t, making a huge difference in the strength of the idle) so that it would ready for test run right after lunch. Once again Kevin, Dennis, Nola, Russell and myself jumped into the Ultrastar and took her out on the road to see if we would once again be disappointed. It was starting to get hard to keep our hopes up but there was no reason to spread any feelings of defeat or pessimism in the group. As usual she drove great down to the five-mile mark where we made our turn around and headed back to town and up that crucial hill that on every previous ride had been her breaking point. Holding our breath, we ascended. And the clouds parted. And the angels looked down upon us and serenaded us with saintly voices that seemed to echo within each of us as continued our way back to Avon. We made it…she purred the entire way back to the garage with no incidences, no hesitations, no stalling. After a week and a half we could all finally let out a sigh of relief. We pulled into the garage, jumped out and immediately celebrated with high fives and hugs around. We did it!!! We got the old girl up and running and ready to hit the road…finally. Within an hour somebody from town who had seen the RV running nicely on the road had called Dennis to congratulate him on his success.
By the time we had finished congratulating ourselves and jumped off the clouds that seemed to be walking on, it was too late to hit the road (plus we all naturally wanted to have a few congratulatory drinks) so we decided to wait until Thursday morning to head out. Later that day Dennis, Dixie and a few other farmers suggested that we actually stay until Friday morning due to a weather forecast that consisted of severe thunderstorms and an excessively hot heat index for Thursday. We’re not ones to argue nature and we do have a fairly unlimited amount of time so we thought, hey, why not?
Well the farmers were right. Thursday was pretty brutal and driving conditions would have been miserable for us as well as the motorhome. The weather was much better suited for a drive on Friday morning so we finalized any loose ends, packed up the Ultrastar and geared up to hit the road. After exchanging phone numbers and email addresses we gave our final hugs and everyone wished us lots of luck and good times.
In the end we drove out of Avon with a damn good tune up for the Ultrastar with a new fuel filter, fuel pump, spark plug wires and ignition module. We got the timing adjusted, the spark plugs as well as the carburetor cleaned (twice), and a once over (many times) of the entire system. Kevin and I drove away with an awesome experience in Avon, South Dakota and many new people that we can now call our friends. Thank you to everyone who supported and helped us throughout our stay. Avon will always have a place in our hearts.

Part Three: The Storm

It was now Friday, our one week anniversary of our arrival into Avon, South Dakota. I think we were on a roll from putting in some work hours the day before so we woke up ready to help out with some clean up around the garage. We moved tires, cleaned up old containers of used oil and cut down some small trees that had the capability of imposing impending doom on the structure of the garage. The next idea for the Ultrastar was the possibility of faulty spark plugs and since we only bought the RV two months ago we had no idea when the last time any of these issues had been addressed, possibly never. The plugs were a little dirty but in good shape though the spark plug wires were not so pretty. So we ordered new wires, bound to come in by noon, and cleaned the plugs. After lunch everything was reassembled and we ready for test drive number, I don’t know, ten. You guessed it…it was a no go…again. We told Dennis that if he wanted to throw in the towel we understood and we’d figure out something else. There are GM dealers in Mitchell (home of the infamous Corn Palace), about 5 miles north, and in Yankton, about 35 miles east, that we could try our hand at to relieve him of some frustration. Luckily he said that if he sent us on our way and we ended up breaking down fifty miles down the road he would have reoccurring nightmares of putting us on the road when the vehicle was not ready to go. I don’t know about Kevin, but this was a relief for me considering that I wasn’t sure if the Ultrastar would even make it to either of those places. Plus, at this point, we’d rather just keep working with Dennis instead of having a new mechanic to go over the same exact things that we covered in the past week. We’re bound to figure out what the problem is sooner or later, right?? I mean what can you possibly do in this situation? It’s not like we’re stranded in a strange place feeling like we absolutely have to get out. The town itself is extremely comfortable especially considering that up until a week ago I had never even heard of it.
I am starting to feel bad for Dennis though. In a town of 600 it doesn’t take long for people to start popping their head in the garage to add their two-sense into the situation. There has been a lot of “do you know what I would do? I would just…(insert any one of the numerous pieces of advice we’ve heard)…I bet that would solve the problem.” Oh and he’s also heard a lot of “you haven’t got that thing running yet? I thought you’ve done this before.” So I guess at this point Dennis would get a lot more flack for abandoning ship that if he just couldn’t find the ghost we’re chasing. Either way it looks like we’re spending another weekend in Avon.
This also means that we got to stick around for Old-Fashioned Day on Saturday evening, a tradition in Avon that has been going for over 100 years. The event was put together by the Avon Chamber of Commerce and I would have say that, judging by the turnout, this year was once again a success. It was set in the park (a place we called home for a short time last weekend) where there was a free pork sandwich dinner compliments of the meat locker, a dunk tank for the kids and music provided by the one man band who played an accordion along with pre-recorded musak on the back of a trailer. There was also a car show beside the park on Main Street (no judging, no trophies, just for show) but being that this is a farming community there were just about as many tractors lined up along the street as there were cars. We had a good time talking to car owners and community members alike but it was just kind of funny though. Here we are in the middle of southeastern South Dakota going to weekend events along with the whole town like we have lived there our entire lives. This repeated scenario has made me giggle inside a few times over the last week.

On Sunday we were invited to a 5:30 supper at the house of a farmer we’ve gotten to know the last week. He figured that we could probably use a break from the motorhome to enjoy some of the luxuries and space of a real house for an evening. Earlier in the week he had given us some sweet corn he grew and, by gone, it was probably the best corn I have ever had in my entire life so there was no way we were going to deny his gracious offer.

On Sunday afternoon there were rumors flying around about a storm that was west of Avon and heading our direction with the potential of a hail storm as damaging as South Dakota had experienced earlier this season. People quickly moved vehicles into garages and under carports and took cover in the security of their houses. Right around 4:30 clouds began to overtake the sky giving everything a greenish-blue hue, a sign that hail may be on the horizon. The wind picked up from the northwest then the rain began to fall with the flashes of lightning and the claps of thunder not far behind. Before long we were in the midst of a true South Dakota summer storm. We watched from the windows of the RV as the trees at the edge of the property twisted and turned, swaying aggressively this way and that way seeming to bend to the brink of their capacity then quickly being thrust in the opposite direction.




The rain poured horizontally in sheets, pounding the sides of the Ultrastar like an angry mob with overwhelming strength rushing to war, forcing her to sturdily hold her ground against the tough opponents. Wind gusts took a hold of her, rocking her from side to side and front to back (and not the “if this RV’s a rockin don’t come a knockin” type of rocking). It was enough to make my heart pound a little heavier and quicker realizing that these eighty mile per hour winds were easily overpowering our five ton vehicle. All of the sudden I felt as small as a tiny speck of sand on one of those beautiful vast Michigan beaches we stayed at just a short time ago. Lucky for us (I repeat, extremely lucky) we were stationed on the east side of the garage, well protected from the west and not getting the full brunt of the actual storm elements, though there was still no shortage of excitement. We were both pretty sure that if we wouldn’t have had the protection there was a good possibility that she would have been on her side by the end of the storm. By 5:15 the rain had begun to subside, the wind had calmed and the sky changed from green to yellow. Once we saw the garage cats come out from underneath cars into the open we knew the coast was clear, the storm had passed to the east. We walked out of the RV, hearing a constant grumble of rolling thunder in the not too far distance, and realized the line of damage that the storm had left in its path. There were trees down on almost every block making many roads impassable.



Ponds had formed in people’s yards and electricity was lost throughout the entire town. Before long the community was out with tractors and pick-up trucks clearing debris from the streets and checking up on friends and family. Garage doors were blown in, wires were hanging from poles and a barn across town was almost completely obliterated. There was talk of a funnel touching down in a few spots but I’m not sure if there was any conclusiveness to the rumor. All I know is that this was the most intense storm that we have encountered on this trip and all of the sudden we felt fortunate to be broken down against a garage in Avon rather than camping in the middle of nowhere with no protection from the storm.
In the end, supper plans did go on, though the meal was postponed until 9 o’clock. The electricity was still out but the Van Derpen’s had generators to sustain meal preparations and even watch the evening news to see the aftermath from the storm. We sat down and ate a bountiful meal of fresh zucchini, tomatoes, jalepeno poppers and beef from their own cattle feeling fully satisfied and stuffed with homegrown love.

Part Two: Small Town, Big Heart

Ray was set up and ready to work on the Ultrastar by 7 a.m. on Saturday morning so Kev and I set out to check out the part of town we missed the day before. By late morning we had visited most of the businesses in town for one thing or another. At 11 a.m., after Ray had replaced the fuel pump, blew pressurized air through the gas tank and cleaned the carburetor, we took her for a test run only to still experience the hesitations. Which leaves us in Avon, South Dakota on a Saturday afternoon with a vehicle that is still running sub-par and no one to continue working on it until Monday morning. Looks like it’s back to drawing board and the community park for us!!



We didn’t much mind though. There are much worse places to spend the weekend and, besides, it just isn’t worth rushing something that isn’t ready to go. So we did what anyone would do, kicked on the AC for the dogs and walked to the pool to do some much needed cooling off (another hot one--89° at 8:30 a.m., 95° by noon). Also just what the doctor ordered. All showered up and refreshed, we went back to our air-conditioned oasis in the park and made dinner with meat from the meat locker and veggies from the greenhouse. Buy fresh, buy local, right? Tonight was also the Open House at the newly built Avon Fire Hall...



...with a free pork loin dinner to go with it. Although we weren’t hungry (due to the awesome dinner we had eaten a few hours before) we did get to meet and greet and check out the fire engines and new facility. Naturally, afterwards we made our way up the block to the Cove for an evening night capper or two. We ran into a couple of people from the night before and met quite a few not so familiar, one of these being a mechanic located on the west side of town, Dennis. Before long we were talking vehicle issues and Dennis immediately started brainstorming, trying to possibly pinpoint the problem simply going on the description of its behavior over the last few days. He told us he had a few ideas and to come over to the garage at eight on Monday morning to check it out. It’s not like we didn’t like Ray or the work that he had done on the Ultrastar but we figured that if he had already spent six hours working on it and the problem wasn’t solved (it was actually a bit worse) we might as well get another fresh set of eyes on it. Everyone that we talked to were friendly and sympathetic (we heard a lot of “I can’t believe you broke down in AVON of all places!) and accommodating to our situation. It’s like someone told us when they found out we had to stay the weekend, “I guess you might as well just plan on making this an annual vacation spot from now on.”


Sunday’s in Avon are about as quiet and laid back as you’d expect. Nothing was really open except for the gas station/restaurant out on route 50 and the grocery store (but only for a few hours in the morning). After two days of trying to keep the dogs occupied while people were in and out of the vehicle trying to diagnose the problem (which meant walking in circles and meandering through the streets of Avon like a four pack of lost puppies) we didn’t mind being able to actually hang out in and use the RV for a whole day. After taking a dip in the pool and showering up we went back to the park for another amazing dinner, this time preparing some ground venison compliments of the O’Reilly’s in Minnesota. Just as we sat down to eat we saw a truck pull up with none other than Julie and Mark from the Cove bringing us a house delivery of ice cold Bud Light (their beer really is the coldest I may have ever had) and a vodka tonic. I guess they figured that if they would have been open on Sunday’s we probably been down at some point so they brought the bar to us! Now that’s hospitality you’ll only find in Avon, South Dakota.

Monday morning was brought in with heavy rain and lightning and thunder to compliment the dreary start. It was one of those mornings which unlimited cups of strong coffee still couldn’t shake the weary wake up call. The Ultrastar started right up, like it was what she was waiting for all weekend, filling us with optimism on the possibility of a quick fix and an early start on the road. That optimism quickly, again, turned to frustration and disappointment when she stalled and sputtered the mere four blocks to Dennis’ garage. But what matters is that she made it there and Dennis was ready to give her a once over first thing. He got the idle regulated almost immediately, no longer threatening to stall while idling, a huge relief for us. So we took her out for a test run holding our breath the first minute or so. We drove five miles east on 50 with no problems, no hesitations, no hiccups. We turned around at a sign that we originally saw three days prior when our vehicular desperation began.



As soon as we started to climb the first hill back to town she got that bogged down feel again. Back to the garage to reexamine any elements that may have been overlooked or missed. Again, out came the air filter, which was pretty dirty but not enough to cause the symptoms. Next the carburetor. Dennis opened up it up and saw some residual dirt and gunk floating around in there so he gave it a thorough cleaning in hopes that this may have been the impedance that it affecting the drive. Back in everything went and out for another test run down route 50…problem still not solved.
Back to the garage. Back to square one.
At five o’clock, after a couple more hours of brainstorming and tinkering it was time to call it a day and partake in a cold beverage or two. Dennis and his wife, Dixie, offered for us to plug in and stay outside the shop for the night until we get this whole mess figured out. We were thankful for the offer, not really knowing where else to go (there is a motel a few blocks away out on route 50 but being that we live on a House On Wheels, well, it seems a little wasteful to stay in a motel when we have everything we need right here). Like I said, we were very grateful for the offer…besides it’s pretty neat seeing the ins and outs of the garage, not to mention the awesome yard around the garage.



The place is a goldmine for photo opportunities. Perfectly rusted vintage vehicles, which have all have some sort of an ultimate plan for restoration.



Weeds growing up around them as if the Earth was taking them back into possession.



Trees with trunks four inches in diameter squeezing through other vehicles changing the shape of the trunk so as to fit through the gap between the back bumper and the body.



And did I mention the cats? The litter upon litter that reside outside as well as inside the garage? I’m talking young ones, old ones, big ones, small ones, calicos, black and white, grey and white, orange and white, all black ones. Seriously, there were at least three litters born this summer alone. Most of them have names, which everyone knows is the first mistake when you already have too many cats. Apparently last year a virus of some sort swept through and within a weeks time there were over thirty quick casualties. The hit took its toll but with the new arrivals this summer the population is not having a problem rebounding. It’s fun to watch them scurry around the yard, jumping in and out of abandoned cars, playing with the multitudes of crickets. In the morning you can tell when Dennis and Dixie are coming down the street to come to work. A group of cats all start running up the street to greet them, running in circles and jumping around showing off their excitement for them to arrive. Plus they know, of course, it will soon be feeding time.

So onto the vehicle saga. Tuesday was already booked with appointments at the garage, though Dennis was more than generous with assessing this enigma within an enigma in his brief time between incoming vehicles and tires. Still no solution. On Wednesday a few more ideas were addressed, all to no avail. As soon as we got that engine warmed up and tried to test drive we just kept running into the same issues. When we tried to put the pedal to the floor for more power it just seemed to drop out. Then it would just have a hard time idling even though we would let it sit and idle for ten minutes without a problem before we’d leave for the test run. We tried a new coil. No change. Like I said, an enigma inside an enigma stuck inside the Bermuda Triangle.
On Thursday Dennis had some time in the morning to work on the girl and Kev and I just so happened to fall into some side work, power washing a garage and building a raised flower bed for Dennis’ mother, Carol. So Dennis had the morning to go in and out of the Ultrastar as he needed and we took the dogs to the job site and put in a day of work, the first in two months. It actually felt pretty darn good to be preoccupied from the whole situation. Plus we got to make a little to put back into the RV and, quite honestly, the raised bed turned out real nice.






Just a little something for Avon to remember us by, I guess.

Dennis replaced the ignition module that morning so while we were waiting for the stones that would fill in the bed to be dropped off we took her back out on the road, fingers crossed. UUGGHH… what the hell could be wrong with this thing? We all know it’s going to be one of those fixes that will seem so obvious once it’s discovered but now it just feels like we’re chasing a ghost. We pulled back into the garage without success on this attempt feeling frustrated, confused and searching for solutions. The stone was dropped off and it was probably perfect timing to exert some overflowing energy by hauling 3000 pounds of stone by hand with only buckets to carry it in. We were already starting to feel emotionally drained from this whole experience so we might as well drain ourselves physically too. And, like I said, the bed turned out pretty darn nice.