Day Four

I learned this morning that “leaving by 7AM” actually means “Be down and ready to stow your bags under the bus by 6:45.”  This was announced at some point but I missed it.  Not too surprising.  I miss a lot of things, actually more and more the older I get.  So I’m making a final sweep of our hotel room to check for possessions, load myself down with the two remaining suitcases, my backpack-slash-purse, and my computer bag, (Paul took his bags and left earlier to go eat breakfast) and I walked into the elevator feeling satisfied that I even had a few minutes to spare.  Good.  I can grab a cup of coffee for the road and still be out to the bus by 7:00. 

Well, I notice there is no one I know in the breakfast area so I look outside at the bus and see all the luggage compartments are closed and they seem to be ready to roll.  Well, I was brought up to believe that it would be better to have a hole open up beneath one and be swallowed alive than to be late.  So, appropriately horrified, I rush to the bus dragging my bags behind me.  Yes, indeed, they are all sitting there waiting on me.  No coffee for me this morning I guess.  This alone would be cause for a whole blog, dedicated to the emotional stress of me not getting my morning caffeine.  I quickly realize that making these people wait one second longer would be even worse than no caffeine.   Then I realize I still have my hotel keys in my pocket, so I run them in.  Passing the coffee pot I grab a cup and rush back to the bus.

“Where are your sisters?” A voice came from the back.  I looked where they had been sitting.  Empty.

“Are you kidding?!”  I couldn’t believe they were even later than me.  “You ARE kidding!  They’re hiding in the back.  Very funny!”

“No we aren’t.” Several people insisted.  “They haven’t come out yet.”

Just then my sister Barbara came rushing out the door, pulling her bag.  She looked as flustered as I felt when she saw everyone was ready to go.  She walked to her seat, then stopped and exclaimed, “Oh, I still have my keys!”  There was general laughter at that and one of the guys volunteered to run them in.  In less than a minute my sister Anne joined us and we were underway.  I filled them in on my new knowledge regarding the “fifteen minutes before departure time” rule.  We all agreed we won’t ever be the last ones on again.  It took me an hour to achieve a normal heart rate again.

Just under two hours later, during which we sang worship songs, led by Paul, and listened to a short sermon by Larry Lamp, we were parked beside the road again.  Investigation by Crist, our resident Amish mechanic whom we were fortunate to have along, showed a leak in a hose and a hole in a pipe, causing loss of fluid.  It was a time to test our mettle and we came through it well.  Five hours later we all knew each other a little better, we had done a little hiking, peed in the woods, taken our turns with traffic control, learned there are a lot of really nice motorists out there, made friends with a trooper, and watched Irene scrub the grease off Dave’s head, arms and legs. And squirrels were added to a few scavenger-hunt lists.

Tony and Lexi, a couple in their twenties, more or less, pulled up to see if they could help.  Tony opened his trunk and pulled out some tools to help the guys fix the bus.  Lexi talked to the ladies and soon discovered she is a relative to Carolyn’s neighbor in Ohio.  So photos were taken and exclamations made.  Those are some long odds, eh?!

After an hour or two of the guys trying to fix the problem with what lay at hand, three firefighters pulled up and ransacked their own truck.  They gave a container of anti-freeze and some other items unknown to me that might be helpful in the bus repairs.  A pick-up came by and took several of the unoccupied guys to fill a large ice-chest with water to refill the radiator.  And eventually a state trooper pulled up.  We couldn’t call for help because cell service was nonexistent.  We lost count of the people that stopped and offered assistance.  Several even volunteered to shuttle us to a café down the mountain.

Eventually it became clear the problem could not be fixed without a torch to do some soldering.  The trooper took Dave to a town “nearby” to get one.  “Nearby” means something entirely different in Wyoming than it does in Ohio.  Spirits remained high while we waited for their return.  The weather was perfect.  The jokes flew steadily.  The hikers hiked.  The singers sang.  Paul sat on a stool and played guitar.  Someone, trying to be funny, put a cup nearby for tips and he made five dollars.

By the time they got back clouds were rolling in and just as the last water was dumped in the radiator it started to rain in earnest.  We loaded up the bus, gave the trooper an enthusiastic hand for rescuing us and another hand to Crist for putting everything back together again. He drives a buggy back home but he sure knows what he's doing under the hood. And Dave, our fearless leader, told us all when we were once again sailing down the highway to let him know if we see a bus for sale.  More laughter and the fun commences.

Our scheduled chuck wagon meal with entertainment included had to be cancelled as soon as we were in an area with cell phone service.  We wouldn’t be reaching our evening destination until 9 PM.  A quick stop at a small town whose name I don’t remember and we grabbed McDonalds’ lunches to go.

The scenery was beautiful in its stark barrenness. Occasional washes, now dry, with scrubby trees lining the banks gave way to cultivated fields bordered by more rocky mountain ranges in the distance.  Groups of antelopes grazed, unconcerned with our passing or the horses and cows sharing their fields.  My popping ears indicated the ups and downs of our elevation; eventually we reached the continental divide and the pines increased, along with the green vegetation and meandering waterways.  The majestic Tetons appeared far off on the horizon, bringing out the cameras along with the oohs and ahhs.

The Glory of God revealed itself over and over to this little group today.  It takes much more faith to believe in evolutionary theory than in intelligent design. Such beauty is not coincidental.  Such beauty comes from a mind of brilliance far greater than ours. 

Our hotel was a welcome sight a little before 9PM.  Those beds look very inviting.

Day Three

This morning we said good-bye to my nephew Mike and headed west into a light rain.  One thing I find so special is the short devotional and prayer each morning, presented by someone on the bus as we travel down the highway.  This group of people is proof that living out your faith does not mean being dour, humorless and devoid of fun.

We stopped for our first break at a roadside rest displaying models of Lewis and Clark's exploratory expedition complete with teepees, campfire, and more.  A spectacular view of the great Missouri River, from a hill whose sides were crisscrossed with walking trails and surrounded by forest, invited further exploration but time did not allow.  We finally forced ourselves back on the bus and turned toward the badlands.

I've already used the word spectacular in this blog post but I don't have a better one so I'll apply it again.  Even though everyone knows that photos don't do anything justice, it was useless trying to stop ourselves from snapping shots of everything we could.  

While winding our way through the beautiful, desolate hills the engine light lit up.  This happened to Paul and I at home and I promptly pulled out the owner's manual to see what it meant.  The book informed me that it could be nothing or it could be very bad.  Useless information, really.  Fortunately, on today's road trip we had several mechanically inclined people aboard who promptly investigated.  It seems a pulley thingey came off of something in the rear underside of the bus causing a belt to come loose and fall off.  The fan to cool the engine would not be working without it.

As luck would have it, or much more likely, the mercy of God, hundreds of motorcycles were passing us in the oncoming lane, presumably coming from the Sturges bike rally.  Paul H. flagged down a bearded wonder and asked him to kindly keep an eye out for the pulley and the belt back up the way we had just come.  In minutes he returned with the belt but no pulley.  Thanks to the ingenuity of several guys on the bus the belt was rigged up to work the fan that cooled the engine but we would have no A/C until parts could be flown in two days hence.

Fortunately it was not unduly hot.  However, temperatures in a bus filled with forty-three heat-producing bodies does rise considerably when windows can't be opened.  Armed with effective deodorant and healthy senses of humor throughout made the whole experience quite tolerable.

We arrived at Wall Drug Store, barely late for lunch.  The food was excellent and the coffee hot, black and strong - and only a nickle a cup.  Then back on the bus, warming up nicely while we were gone, and we were bound for Mt. Rushmore. 

Disembarking from a steamy bus into the cool breezes of a perfectly balmy day is a delightful experience.  Had the A/C been cranking away we would not have been able to fully appreciate that cool breeze for the simple pleasure it was.  A quick walk brought us to the lookout patio to see Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln, their granite faces keeping silent vigil over the people streaming to and fro beneath them.  How many of the tourists milling like ants around me had any idea what these men had risked for America?  I couldn't help but wonder.  How many

understood the raw courage, the inspiration, the creative genius, that helped to shape this nation into the greatest republic on the planet? Or were they there just because of the impressive artistic achievement the sculpture represented?

Back on the bus and on up the road to take a look at Crazy Horse.  No discernible progress could be seen since I had last been here two decades ago. Even so, the huge rock carving of the famous Native American Chief reminded of a once proud people whose legacy still permeates the land surrounding the cliffs.

On the way to Gillette, WY we watched storms in the distance, black and threatening, yet never coming

close.  Jagged shards of lightening reached to the earth, the clouds moving alongside and away without so much as a drop of rain touching us.  This big sky country has a foreign look to someone accustomed to rolling hills and curving country roads. I felt small and insignificant and strangely vulnerable. Usually, at home, when one sees a storm, one also gets to taste it up close and personal. 

,

We pulled in to our hotel, a tired and sweaty bunch just before 7:00. Six of us were walking to a nearby Applebees for supper when another storm decided to give us a taste of what it had to offer.  Again, the brilliant lightening was startling and different from the lightening back home.  It felt like it could reach out and snatch us, and I thought of the legends of Pecos Bill lassoing a tornado.  It felt so close and looked so foreboding. This weather must be fairly commonplace because the locals paid it no mind at all. 

Our lovely hotel sent a van for us after supper.  Since we had started eating it had rained, hailed, rained some more, and showed no signs of letting up.  More than a dozen of us piled into a van meant for a few less people.  General merriment and mayhem ensued.  

I think the heat sent us all to bed early.  No games developed in the lobby tonight.

Day Two

All the people who toured the insemination farm this morning, (or rather procurement-of-the-product-to-inseminate farm), came back to the hotel with varying expressions on their faces.  I decided opting out was the right decision for me although they all assured me it was "very educational and very interesting."  There are some things I am happier not knowing.  I mean, just because I love bacon does not mean I need to know how to field dress a hog.

Today is another "driving day" with stops every few hours for the bladder-challenged and the hungry.  My co-travelers made it a fun day even so.  Funny stories were told, songs were sung, home-made treats passed around and general enjoyment was there for the taking.

I've checked a few more things off my scavenger-hunt list and I discovered a new means of entertainment.  Look out the window and randomly say "Yes!" with extreme satisfaction, then watch the heads turn and hear the groans of "what? where is it? what did I miss?"  If I'm honest, I'll admit I'm usually the one groaning and missing.

A little before 5:00 PM we pulled in to Mitchell, SD.  After unloading ourselves at the Corn Palace we learned a few interesting and unusual facts about corn.  It can be used as a reason for large festivals involving thousands of people all converging on the aforementioned Mitchell and it is also quite the decorative tool as proven by the murals inside, as well as the palace's exterior facade.  I couldn't help but wonder how many other things there are in this country I know nothing about. 

After an hour or so exploring the wonders of corn art we were dropped off at our hotel. Who should be sitting there waiting for us in the lobby but my nephew Mike from WV!  A long-distance trucker, he had heard we were going to be at this hotel tonight; since he was happening through he made his own reservations and spent the evening with us.  It was off to supper at Ruby Tuesday's, just across the parking lot for some mouth-watering food and then back to the hotel for some card games. (Once again, we turned a head or two during supper with our enthusiastic excitement about a U-haul trailer sighting - another scavenger hunt acquisition.)

Tonight, I'm the one still wide awake and Paul is passed out cold. Day two is done.

Bus Trip, Day One

We've never gone on an extended bus trip before.  I mean, isn't that for the geriatric set? And we're, well, ahem, uh, we're still young.  But when our friends (who just happen to own a bus line) asked us to join them and their extended family on a trip to the Canadian Rockies, even Paul couldn't refuse.  He who had always declared he would not consider such a thing just told me a few minutes ago that he was quite enjoying himself.  And so am I.  I brought some of my own family along.  My brother, his wife, and two of my sisters.  Since they all live quite a distance from us it's a little family reunion wrapped in a trip.

We left before 7:00 this morning for a day filled with conversation and much laughter.  It helped that we know most of the people on the bus.  Even though we're not "blood" they made us feel at ease and welcome.  And Paul is finding out how nice it is to simply climb on board and not worry about a thing.  No crazy GPS to tell us to "make a u-turn" as she recalculates.  No decisions on which hotel to book and where to eat.  It's all taken care of.  And the whole lot of us are involved in a scavenger hunt which I have no hope of winning but which I find highly entertaining none-the-less.

Six of us were seated around a stone table outside a restaurant called Culver's, enjoying a delightful supper, when someone said, "Is that a white limousine?"   All heads in earshot turned to the vehicle in question, including, I'm sure, the people who were not on our bus.

"It is! It's a limo!" Someone else shouted.  "Awesome!" said another.  "Yes!  A limo!  A WHITE limo!" The high level of excitement told the people at the next table we didn't get out much.  One would have thought we were on a mission to catch a rare sighting of an endangered species.  Well, we were, kind of.  It is one of the things on our scavenger hunt list and it's not like we're headed for LA or something.  I mean, we're in Wisconsin in the middle of farm country. And what's more fun than knowing you're confirming your insanity to people you'll never see again anyway?!  The bumblebee in the flowering bushes and the crow descending from a nearby tree brought forth similar excitement. 

Having been awake since around three AM, and edging ever closer to the "geriatric" genre myself, I knew an early night was my lot.  Paul still hasn't returned from the rowdy card games ensuing in the hotel lobby/breakfast room.  I'll have to hear about it in the morning.

Tomorrow there's a tour scheduled at a nearby farm to learn more about artificial insemination.  I'm passing on that one.  And then it's on to the corn palace.  I have no idea what that is but by tomorrow night I will.  I may even score some photos.

Tulips in May

I'm spending a few days with my sisters and several of my sisters-in-law.  We came to Holland, Michigan to see what all the hoopla is about.  It's about tulips.  Reds, pinks, whites, purples, yellows, oranges, variegated, solid. And they are beautiful.

We braved the confusing traffic laws of Michigan (turn left on red after stopping?) and the even more confusing directions, or lack thereof, from the locals. We eventually found a park worth seeing and a tulip farm not far away.  It felt like a vast distance, though, by the time we had traversed the length of Holland countless times.  And that was just to find the information center.  We never did find it. We found signs.  But not the fount of information they promised was close by.  

After eating breakfast at the local IHOP, I inquired of the young man behind the counter how one gets to downtown Holland. He laughed and said, "Good luck."  He offered nothing further.  I determined in my heart to be nice to the tourists when I return to my heavy-tourist-traffic hometown.

How rude! I thought of the unhelpful young man.  By the end of the day I realized his answer was much more profound than rude.

Persistence pays off however; eventually we did find a place proclaiming itself to be a Chamber of Commerce.  Well, at least one small sign in the general area of the parking lot proclaimed it. I had begun to think anything more than obtuse clues must be illegal here. We entered the unmarked building through the only door without "private" on it and followed a hallway around a few turns to a single, short wall holding brochures.  The friendly lady staffing the place, seemingly single-handed, told us of several possible places to visit.  She was right on all counts although we became hopelessly lost when searching for the tulip farm. 

Eventually, with the help of my GPS and the Chamber lady's map, we did see a spot of color in a field behind some buildings along the way.  After several more wrong turns and a dead-end street we discovered there was a way to see the flowers up close and personal. The lack of signage was sufficient to suggest another Area 51.

Feeling victorious in our discovery, we plunked down $10.00 each, entered a gate from inside a nondescript building and passed behind a tall, weather-beaten wall to behold a sight worth every penny spent.

Boasting over five million tulips, a number of blooming trees in varieties I cannot name, Dutch windmills, wooden benches, lush grass, and even a few bison, (I know. . . you didn't see the bison coming), we wandered around in a world set apart from the dismal-looking storefronts unenthusiastically beckoning tourists on the other side of the wall.

We did our best to capture the breathtaking display with our cameras and cell phones but it was inadequate in the extreme.  Nothing but a first-hand visual experience could suffice.  And even then it was sensory overload.

Tearing ourselves away at last, we piled into the big van on loan from my nephew.  We cruised streets lined with more tulips and streets with tulips planted down the middle.  It seemed we had picked the perfect week to come.  The lady staffing Area 51 told us this was the best season in ten years. From the flowering trees to the lush grasses to the brilliant plumage of the tulips I believed she was telling the truth. 

Like sponges that had soaked in all we could hold we returned to our rental house situated within a five minute walk of Lake Michigan.  Several of us headed toward the lake on foot only to realize that just because something is touted in the advertisements as "only a five minute walk away" does not mean access to that something is available anywhere in the vicinity.  I always wonder if the people spouting the glowing promises for vacationers honestly think the aforementioned vacationers will not notice their discrepancies.  Oh well.  It was a fine day to enjoy a stroll and enjoy it we did.

Our directional misadventures notwithstanding, we all enjoyed our day to the full. And even though our blatant tourism status had to be obvious to anyone within sight of our meandering vehicle, not once did we hear a horn blow or an impatient word from anyone.  I'll take friendliness over directional accuracy anytime.  Holland is a beautiful place and I'd love to visit again sometime. I might investigate some of those mysterious traffic laws first though.

Florida, 2013

So it's already day seven of this vacation and I've only managed to write about it once.  It's just that we are way too busy having fun!  And I haven't even been to the beach yet.  I can't remember ever being in Florida for a whole week without being to the beach.  But it's just been too cold.  I'm not complaining though. I don't think I've seen this much sunshine since the last time I was here.

My cousin Dan has faithfully, per my request, convinced me to walk the bridge connecting Sarasota to Bird Key with him on a daily basis.  Or, if not the bridge, then a place called The Mound.  A very large "mound" of dirt, seeded with grass and set aside as a bird sanctuary.  From the top one can see for miles in all directions.  I'm counting on Dan to see that I arrive back home fit and weighing less than when I got here.  So far the odds aren't in his favor.  The calories I've taken in since my arrival defy description.

Two days ago we went to the famous Strawberry Festival in Plant City, Florida.  There we gorged ourselves on, what else, strawberry shortcake and strawberry-filled donuts.  With the unusual cold this past week and with a stiff breeze blowing we were all glad for whatever jackets and sweaters we had along.

Between eating episodes we checked out the many booths displaying a wide variety of things from whirlpool tubs to homemade jewelry.  There were also many entertainers to choose from.  Some, like the talented Mel Tillis were worth the time.  Others, well, this festival is as far up the ladder as they are likely to go.  But it's all good.  There's nothing better than rural America at it's finest.

Yesterday we joined the crowds in Pinecraft bidding farewell to folks returning to their homes in the chilly north after their time in the sun.  Pioneer Trails managed to make it look easy with four huge motor coaches leaving at the same time.  Many gathered to say good-bye or just to watch the fun.  The really big buses were parked side-by-side in a small church lot that I would never have thought big enough to hold them; the drivers pulled out smoothly without running over anyone.

Today we went to the Arcadia Rodeo.  This was my kind of entertainment.  Starting with six and seven-year-olds bareback riding on wooly little sheep and ending with the bull-riders who obviously have a death-wish.  There was barrel racing, steer-wrestling and of course the clown.  With a sold out crowd it was loud, fun, patriotic, and refreshing.  

When all the little kids were called into the arena a crowd of at least a hundred gathered.  Then some calves with bandanas tied to their tails were let loose amongst the children.  The object of this game?  Get the bandanas off the calves.  Well mayhem reigned, the kids had fun, the calves, not so much.  I found it a little sad that I was more impressed this is still allowed in this litigious society than I was with the actual game at hand.  And I couldn't help but wonder what unhappy individual would make it a thing of the past.

The best part of this week has been the time spent with family and friends.  I am blessed to have cousins that would make a shipwreck a fun time.  As long as we could manage to get to land in one piece of course.

Well, I must be off.  Paul had just made more strawberry shortcake which requires eating.

South 2013

We left around quarter past seven in the morning for our month-long Florida stay.  We’ve both been anticipating it for months. Our kids think we’re lucky.  I think we might be old.  Well, maybe both. The plan is to relax, rejuvenate, and ready ourselves for all the work ahead in the coming months.

I hear tell of people who never go on vacations and I must say I don’t know how they do it.  I would be a burnt-out little heap of ashes if I couldn’t get away from it all once in awhile.  This is not to imply that my everyday life is devoid of good things. But even nonstop busyness of the good variety can lead to exhaustion.  I mean, Jesus, Himself, needed a break now and then and I’m surely not as well equipped to handle stress as The Almighty.

So we were merrily sailing down the interstate and I did the usual “Oh dear I forgot to bring (fill in the blank)” every so often.  Not to worry, I didn’t forget anything I can’t live without.  My biggest concern is the grandchildren I had to leave behind in the frozen northlands.  The eight-year-olds I will miss incredibly but they’ll still know who I am when I get back.  How long are the memories of one-year-olds?  I tried to convince my children to put large photos of me on the ceiling above the babies’ cribs but they just looked at me like maybe I should head to a sanatorium instead of the beach.

Snow fell intermittently until half-way through West Virginia and we virtually giggled at the prospect of sunshine and warmth in our future.  There’s something that happens after four months of grayness, rain, ice, snow, and bone-chilling cold.  This winter was worse than most, at least in my humble opinion.  Every few weeks we’d get a day or two when the temperatures shot up to the fifties or sixties and the sun shone brightly.  Then, when you had almost convinced yourself that Ohio winters really aren’t that bad, things would deteriorate rapidly and the temps would plummet to freezing.  It was kind of like putting a steaming bowl of soup in front of a poor freezing soul and when he or she lifts the spoon with frozen fingers to take a bite it’s filled with chunks of ice.  Give me a steady pristine snowfall any day.

We split the driving and I mulled over the extreme danger of freeway travel during my turn.  It really is amazing we aren’t all killed.  Especially in those tunnels.  Sandwiched between big rigs.  Four lanes of heavy traffic, all treating the speed limits like silly suggestions, is, well, just crazy.  I debated how many miles over the limit I could set my cruise without heavy risk of delays and fines and off I went. And I discovered there are several things that really irritate me.  

·         People who drive in the far left lane with no thought for the impatient psycho breathing down their tailpipes.
·         People who brake for no reason while driving in the far left lane.
·         People who weave in and out of traffic from all sides with mere inches to spare front and back.
·         People who drive pick-up trucks with really large wheels and darkly tinted windows doing the aforementioned weaving.
·         People who tailgate when I am obviously blocked in on all sides.
·         People who stay in the far right lane when all left lanes are empty and other people are trying to merge.

I really think all driving tests should involve a one-hour stint on a major interchange during rush hour.  And to make it really interesting let’s make that in Atlanta or Chicago or St Louis or LA.  All survivors pass the test.

At least I had no trouble staying awake.  And my prayer life was thriving.  Between repenting for my comments toward the incompetent and pleading for protection from the incompetent. . .well I was busy.

Paul had his seat back as far as it would recline and was snoring softly, then he finally sat up and announced he hadn’t slept a wink.

When we reached the Carolinas we saw blue skies and fluffy white clouds.  And a little bit of green vegetation.  With all my whining about the dead, dull look of Ohio winters, let me hurry to add that part of what appeals to me about life in the north is the changing seasons.  How could I really, thoroughly appreciate springtime with leaves and flowers bursting forth once again if I had not endured the total lack of any signs of life for months on end?

We stopped for the night at a small town called Yemassee, SC.  Well, actually it was more like a spot beside the freeway with a few hotels.  But our hotel was clean and we staved off starvation with some fast food.  All in all, a good day.