Colorado Bound - Day One

September 24^th, 2018

This is the first time we have arrived at the Pioneer Trails office in the dark to leave on a trip.  A sign that Autumn really is here.  Summer has been extra warm and long this year and I’m actually ready for my favorite season to show up.  The past day or two has been cooler but the leaves have yet to change color.  I’m guessing by the time we get back home they will be making a lot of progress in their annual metamorphosis.

It’s a smaller group this year; only twenty-four of us making our way toward Colorado to enjoy the aspens we’ve heard so much about.  The truth is, I enjoy the journey as much as the destination on these trips.  It always takes a day or two to unwind and shed life’s stressors – a process that is vital for me.  I do not understand how anyone can rejuvenate without getting away, literally as well as figuratively, from work and normal life for a respite now and then.

Most of the day was cloudy as we journeyed toward two more friends planning to board in Indiana.  We soon left the hills of Holmes County and reached Fort Wayne, where we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for breakfast, and to pick up our tour guide, Anna Mae, and the two Michigan travelers who met us there.

Anna Mae, is from Topeka, and it was evident rather quickly that she will fit right in with the rest of us.  It was also obvious, immediately, that someone was telling her tales about former trips because she questioned me on whether I had pilfered a TV remote from anywhere yet.  I told her I thought what happened on the bus stayed on the bus.  Anna Mae shot back that she “is on the bus.”  Yes, she’ll do just fine.

Since we had a late breakfast we skipped any formal lunch stop but had several rest-stop breaks.  Several of us tried the coffee machines at each one and therein lay the only snafus of the day.  The first one produced a weak, watery brown, sweetened drink no matter what button was pushed.  I finally tried the Americana which should have been so thick with coffee one practically needs to chew it, and I was rewarded with a weak, watery brown UN-sweetened concoction that bore no resemblance to the hearty burst of caffeine I was needing.  I drank it anyway and reminded myself that this is just a First World Problem, so suck it up, Buttercup.  I should have been more thankful because things took a downhill turn.

Several hours later, our bladders being less compliant with each passing year, we pulled into another rest stop and, not having the courage to attempt coffee again, I tried optimistically for a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine.  Sam peered into my cup and stated the obvious.  “Too watery.”  Smart man, decided to save his dollar. 

“How does it taste?” someone asked so I took a teeny sip or two and pronounced it hot and not too terrible.  Not too good either but I didn’t mention that.  Sam peered into my cup again and informed me that there are “micklein floating around in there!”

I took a closer look and to my great dismay I saw that there were indeed tiny little ants doing the backstroke in my drink. Pardon me, but I’m thinking this is fast losing its status as a First World Problem. No matter how many times I said “bleh” with my gag reflex barely held in check, I still felt like I had the little critters lodged in my teeth.  Realistically an impossibility since I immediately pitched it into the bushes in disgust. 

JR, the only other soul brave enough to try his luck at the machines found them in his cup as well.  He marched into the building and pounded on a door that looked official and managed to rouse up an employee to whom he showed the squirming evidence of wildlife in the drink dispenser.  She promised to “put up a sign,” but made no offers to give us our money back or to pay for my therapy.

I guess I’ll stick to bottled water for the rest of the day.  And praise the Lord that He hasn’t called me to the Foreign Field.  But what fun would life be without a few complications thrown into an otherwise uneventful day to provoke some shuddering jokes and good-natured ribbing from the less-easily-grossed-out?

We arrived at our hotel, a fairly new and very nice Best Western Plus (Pablo claims the plus indicates it is for larger people, a category I’m well on my way to reaching if my current level of intake is any indication,) in Arcola, Illinois.  Bordering the parking lot are cornfields stretching as far as the eye can see.  Cornfields play heavily in the landscape surrounding this beautiful countryside.  Even the local Subway eatery is bordered by endless cornfields.  And everything is level as a tabletop.  Coming from the hills back home, this flatness makes me feel small and insignificant.  These days anything that makes me feel small is okay by me.

After a bit of freshening up we met four more of our fellow-travelers who took us on a tour around Arthur, where they all live.  It was fun to see their home turf and hear a bit about their lives and their growing up years.  Fred took the microphone and that was an adventure in itself.

We were amazed with the sheer vastness of these fields, and Fred told us that some farms are upward of 10,000 acres.  There is a large Amish community here, but I’m guessing the farmers with mega fields are not bringing in the crops with horse-drawn equipment.  Even the huge tractors we saw looked like toys as they crept along, cutting corn.  And the grain silos!  Massive and a reminder that these hard-working men and women who work the land are feeding us; they are the unsung heroes who battle the unpredictable and uncontrollable elements to provide food for the rest of us.

We ate supper at Yoder’s Kitchen, courtesy of the Illinois people, where all of us definitely did not lose any weight.  No one makes mashed potatoes and meat loaf like the Amish cooks.  I’ll stand by that statement without any fear of being proven wrong.

Back to the hotel, I plan on falling into the very large and very comfortable bed by 8:30.  Tomorrow will be an early day and I had very little sleep last night. I’m going to make it up right here, right now.  Good-night all.

So it's almost time to pack for another adventure.  I'm ready!  I need a break from work and responsibility for a few days.  I never could understand how anyone can survive without the occasional vacation and not suffer from a bad case of burnout.  I surely can't!

I seldom blog except for when we are traveling.  And I noticed I never even finished up our last vacation write-up.  When we got home it was straight back to work and all the things left undone while we were off having a grand old time.  So to finish up that trip:  We made it home.  And hit the ground running.  Not much else to say.

Four days and counting!

Lancaster, Day Three

View from the top of the Kreider Farms observation silo

 Today was full of good things.

Our first stop was at Kreider Farms in Manheim, PA  What an incredible operation that is!  Gone are the days of my childhood when the cows were milked by hand by my father, mother, and siblings.  I tried my hand at it once.  No one was around and the helpless cow was firmly secured in her wooden stanchion.  I pulled a small milking stool over and got into position.  It couldn't be all that difficult, right?  I mean, I had seen others do it countless times, rhythmic pulls on the gigantic teats producing full streams of warm loamy milk while the cows stood silently chewing their cud.

Small Graveyard in the cornfield

Well let me tell you, that's not the way it works.  I tugged.  I pulled.  The cow stood still but I'm pretty sure she was thinking I shouldn't consider a career as a milkmaid.  And she refused to let down more than a few drops.  I gave up in disgust and crept out of the barn thinking no one would ever know what a failure I was.  Wrong again.  Since I had made a total muddle of the whole affair, Bessie refused to let down her milk for anyone else either and within minutes everyone knew I had messed up the day's production for that particular bovine.  Needless to say, all my elders, both parents and siblings, were less than pleased.  They never allowed me near a cow again.  In hindsight, maybe the long range benefits outweighed my temporary humiliation.

At Kreider Farms there was no hand-milking that I could see.  A huge carousel holding around fifty cows, rotated slowly.  Automated fences eased them on and off as their turns came and went.  An attendant walked around outside the fencing cleaning each udder and popping on the suction apparatus.  The equipment was elevated,bringing the cows' pertinent anatomy to face level for the man in charge. Several of them kicked off the milkers and our tour guide told us they were heifers and not familiar nor submissive to the routine.  He told us that the first few milkings after calving could produce up to seventeen gallons per day from the highest performing cows.

We rode through the "Mooternity" barn but did not witness any of the average of six deliveries per day.  We drove past the "Cow Palace" where the ladies hang out when they aren't being milked. We drove past the "Super Duper Pooper Scooper" a huge loader that helps with the never-ending waste removal and we learned about the impressive circle of life, well maybe I should say circle of a cow's digestive system.  Seems they do little in a day except eat and expel.  Oh, and produce that milk we all love to drink.  Here's an interesting bit of trivia that someone on the bus told me: humans are the only mammals that continue to drink milk after they are weaned.

Kreider Farms also have over seven million chickens and gather over one million eggs per day. Because of the concerns with Avian Flu and the like, no visitors are permitted in that section of the operation.  We were able to look down on all the farms from the one-hundred foot silo that has been converted into an observation tower.  We were each handed a small bottle of chocolate milk to enjoy and off we went to the next adventure, the faint odor of manure surrounding us.  Thankfully, it was from the cows and not the chickens.

Kitchen Kettle Village is a quaint little tourist "town" filled with shops, eateries and a street musician. We went our separate ways for lunch, strolling up and down the little streets sampling whatever peaked our interest.  Paul and I ate outside, the weather once again perfect.  If we smelled of cow manure no one seemed to notice.

We stopped to see a replica of the biblical tabernacle and learned many interesting details about the Israelites' forty-year journey to the promised land. How blessed we are to have a Savior who gave His Life so that we no longer need to perform all the rituals and sacrifices required all those years ago. Now we have the indescribable privilege of meeting with our Father whenever we want, without delay and without intermediaries.

We got back to our hotel with just enough time to freshen up for the evening.  Supper at Ruth and Sam Lapp's was delicious.  The Lapp's are a local Amish family whose business is home-cooking and hosting groups of hungry eaters in their home.  We started with fresh salad greens and home-made dressing, followed by chicken and roast beef, boiled potatoes swimming in butter, and carrots, finishing with ice-cream, chocolate cake, and raspberry sauce for dessert.

Our next stop was the Sight and Sound Theater to see the live production of Jonah.  Never disappointing, the special effects, singing, comedy, and inspirational message were all we anticipated. We even saw someone from home, one of the tour guides who welcomed us for the evening.

Lancaster Day Two

These past few years Paul and I have been fortunate to be included in a family bus trip.  What makes it unusual is that it's not with either one of our families.  We have been friends with several of the Stutzman clan for many years.  Being included in their family road trips is a privilege we do not take lightly.  This year in addition to enjoying the sights in and around Lancaster County the itinerary also includes visits to several Stutzman family members living there.

Today we are invited (yes all forty plus of us) to Ammon and Mary Stutzman's house for lunch.  Mary's mother is a cousin to many of the Stutzmans on the bus and she and her offspring are the only ones who remain Amish so there will be no photos of them included with this blog. Their hospitality was gracious and the food was mouth-wateringly delicious, dripping with butter and all things delectable. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, home-made dressing, date pudding, glazed fresh fruit, pecan and raisin cream pies.  There was no weight lost today.

Shopping at Bylers'

After we left, filled to capacity, we meandered through winding roads in the beautiful countryside throughout Lancaster County.  Coming from Holmes County, Ohio, home of the world's largest Amish community, I have long believed we have the prettiest scenery and most picture-perfect farms anywhere.  Not so. This place is every bit as pristine as the Amish community back home. Brilliant flower gardens border houses and barns. Yes, barns.  Vegetable gardens are so orderly, no self-respecting weed would dare stick up it's nasty little head.  Clothes lines are loaded with colorful garments and stretch from houses to barn rooftops. I'm still not sure how they do that.  And now I'm told we may have lost our proud distinction of having the largest number of Amish as well.  Someone informed Paul today that there are supposedly 1700 more plain people in Lancaster than in Holmes County.  

We stopped at Byler's Country Store, a typical Amish country mercantile with bulk foods and souvenirs and ice-cream cones, much like many of the shops back home.  After playing tourist for a bit we loaded back up and were off again.

One of the cousins riding with us lives near the Nickle Mine School, scene of one of the most horrific school shootings in the country. She shared the tragic stories surrounding this idyllic village and none of us could fathom what would induce a seemingly loving father to violently take the lives of children he didn't even know. Gloria has befriended many of the victims as well as the shooter's family.  She and her husband continue to take one of the girls to therapy regularly, a decade after that terrible day. This amazing community has chosen forgiveness over revenge.  The mood on the bus was reflective as we returned to our hotel for a "free" evening on our own.

We met Anna Mary in Florida during our winter vacation there and, since several of her children live in the Lancaster area, she caught a flight to Ohio to join the bus tour.  Her daughter Rosa invited several of us to her house for supper. A lovely meal eaten outside, a crackling campfire, and perfect weather provided us with another most enjoyable evening. We felt privileged she chose to share her children and grandkids with us and a time filled with much laughing and the making of new memories ensued.

Lancaster Day One

August 8, 2017

Day One

Oversleeping the day of a plane trip is a fear of mine.  In fact, I have a recurring dream in which I try with all that in me lies to get myself packed and ready in time only to realize that I’m taking one step forward and two back.  I usually wake exhausted and on the verge of panic.  I never sleep well the night before an actual vacation involving public transportation.

This past night was no different.  And as usual, I woke well before my alarm chirped. It was still early when we boarded the bus with friends from Florida, Ohio, Indiana, and parts in between. As usual, what I feared did not happen, and we arrived in plenty of time.  By a few minutes after 7:00 we were rolling down the road and I felt the tension in my shoulders fade with each mile.

This past year has been grueling at times.  I’ve taken on the challenge of managing a local mission thrift shop and I’ve discovered that hard work really doesn’t kill you.  In fact, either my aging joints don’t ache as much as they used to or else I just don’t have time to notice.  Either way, I win.  But it is definitely time to take a few days of R & R and this particular group of friends corralled together on a tour bus promises to be exactly what I need.

Our itinerary will take us for several fun-filled days into the beautiful countryside around Lancaster, PA. By mid-afternoon we had weathered several traffic jams, finally arriving at our first stop. 

Elva Horst lives on Shady Lane Farm near Lancaster and a more picturesque place I have yet to see.  Photo ops abound around both house and barn.  Brilliant flower beds, primitive décor, unique paintings, and a lone hen wandering about looking pleased with herself.  The huge red barn has been transformed into a chalk-talk theater and gift shop. 

What is chalk-talk?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  After we were all comfortably seated in a room with rows of benches, Mrs. Hurst gave a brief history of her family and then explained that chalk talk is way of telling stories using visual and audio art.  A small stage fronted a large tablet of drawing paper attached to the wall, each sheet at least four or five feet square.  While an audio recording played sound bites our hostess created a landscape with colored chalks.  Some were luminescent, some were not.  It was a beautiful drawing, interwoven with eleven crosses which fit nicely with the theme of the narrative on the audio.

After walking the grounds, taking photos, and shopping in the gift shop we boarded the bus and left for supper a local smorgasbord.  I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen so much food, all mouth-wateringly good, in one place before.  We bumped into someone from back home (what are the odds?) and also met up with one of the Florida traveler’s family from the area.

After eating our fill with general merriment, goodwill, and a bit of political discussion among the likeminded, we waddled out to the bus and made our way to our hotel.  I had planned to unpack and then head to the dining area to play cards but one look at the oversize soaking tub in our bathroom put an end to such ambitious plans.  An hour later I drug my very relaxed self into bed and slept the sleep of the just.  Day One was a success.

Back to Reality

August 20, 2016

We pulled into the Pioneer Trails office around noon.  Since we had never taken a group photo we spent some time trying to find the right spot for that.  We probably all look a little travel weary but the group picture was taken and preserved for posterity.

One way I  know I had a good vacation is if I have a hard time returning to real life.  This one is hard.  I must admit the sad truth.  I could easily become a self-indulgent, non-productive member of society given the chance.  It's time to give myself a figurative kick in the rear and get on with life. A life that is filled with good things, albeit less carbs and more exercise.

On the plus side it's wonderful to be with my grandkids again.  And their parents. The most spectacular sights on the planet do not compare to having sweet babies squeezing my neck.  One particular four-year-old with blonde ringlets and shining blue eyes, informed me that she had "missed me terrible!"

During our last few miles together David Lee led us in some songs.  Oh Lord My God, Amazing Grace, Blest Be The Tie That Binds, among others.  He read aloud a poem he wrote which made us laugh and brought a few tears to our eyes as well.  He graciously gave me permission to include it on this blog:

This coach with eight wheels it rolls down the highway,

  Its loaded with Stutzmans, all cousins they say,

While scattered among them you also will find

  Some folks who are dear friends of all the Stutz kind.

The men at the wheel would be Junior and Dave,

  To turn that big wheel they must really be brave.

Sometimes they forget that its time for Rest Stop,

  Until some fair ladies are ready to pop!

Then traffic slows down to just barely a crawl,

  Till some folks now dearly desire a stall!

So finally a Rest area breaks into view,

  And everyone knew what they needed to do.

The sign on the door said that this one is closed,

  But on a side building a sign was exposed;

It said do not urinate on our stone wall,

  The camera will see if you go there at all.

So finally we found that long row of outhouses;

  To use them, some ladies just held shut their noses.

Then Cadillac Mountain was almost a fright,

  The fog was so thick, but a beautiful sight. 

The raindrops were wet and the wind in a hurry;

  It sent us all back to the coach in a scurry.

McDonalds one morning, twas time for some chow;

  With potty break too, we all made it somehow.

I placed my food order while standing in line,

  Two muffins egg sausage with cheese sounds just fine.

We opened our sacks and were ready to bite,

  But where were the eggs, they were nowhere in sight!

To fix our food order its back to the counter;

  Not one time but twice I went back there to hound her:

Third time is a charm I have heard some folk say;

  Those muffins with eggs finally turned out okay.

One lady took off with the TV remote,

  And thought it would work like the phone in her tote.

But TV remotes do not work well at all,

  When ladies are trying to make a phone call.

Remote was then placed back into the motel;

  So that piece of mischief, it ended real well.

We should all return what we never should take;

  Its good that we fix the mistakes that we make.

We stopped at the Magical Mountain one day,

  The gal in the Gift Shop was there heard to say;

My cell phone, it must have decided to run;

  To lose a good phone, it is really no fun.

Our TV remote lady had picked it up,

  But took it right back to that gal in the shop.

So phone and remote were all safely returned,

  And our dear gal's honor was very well earned.

One guy bought some lobster traps to take along;

  Next morning those three traps just lay there alone,

Stashed under the coach they were all high and dry;

  Its then those traps' owner was heard to reply,

I'll have to return them right back to that jerk,

  I caught not one lobster, they really don't work!

In souvenir shop the next day there he bought,

  Some red rubber lobsters, now in his traps caught.

I think that we all had a very good time,

  While riding along on this Green Country line.

From home Buckeye State to the north shores of Maine,

  Then into Canadians' fair land we came.

A three hour cruise on the Bay of Fundy,

  Took us across to the coast town of Digby.

At Peggy's Cove we found a beautiful sight;

  Before we departed the sun said Goodnight.

Our Scottish guide there in the town Halifax,

  Told stories and many historical facts.

The kilt that he wore, well, it gave him no guilt;

  Don't call it a skirt, he said, You may get kilt.

The mountains in Highlands great Park were so tall;

  The picnic right there was enjoyed by us all.

The ferry ride north to that beautiful Isle

  Where our guide Elizabeth shared with a smile.

The town of Charlotte there she showed us with glee,

  At evening the musical, 'Anne with an E'.

The Island of Edward the Prince was so grand,

  But then it was on to the New Brunswick land.

The U.S.and Holmes County then was our goal,

  The sharing and singing enjoyed by us all.

Such beautiful scenes and the sights that we saw;

  It caused us to many times gaze at in awe.

These cousins, it seems that they always have fun,

  We love these dear folks and their friends, everyone.

So thanks to Green country for doing this tour;

  I'm sure that we all want to do it some more.

Now may I yet share just a bit of advice,

  Lets keep our knees down and our eyes to the skies.

Our LORD will soon come back to take us away,

  Up to that Great Homeland, forever we'll stay.

                                      For my cousins and friends,

                                                 David Lee Stutzman

 

 

And now the count-down until next time.

    

Winding Down

August 19, 2016

Amish Country Pennyslvania

Today was to be a driving day.  We pulled out of the hotel in South Portland, Maine around 7:30 AM, for the final leg of our journey.

Paul had been asked to do the devotional this morning and he talked about how much God loves us and that we are all as important to him as someone we might think of as much greater than ourselves.  Someone like Billy Graham, for example.  After he had finished talking and prayed he was called back up to the microphone and asked to share his personal story.  Many of those aboard had heard bits and pieces of what life had been like growing up in the dysfunction of his family and they wanted to hear more. 

An hour later people were still asking questions.  It was good for Paul, I think, to talk about the journey he’s been on.  He’s able now to talk about it without rancor; the bitterness and pain has long since gone, leaving in its place sober acknowledgement that life isn’t great sometimes but that it is as good as you determine to make it.  As he has often said, “You can’t help what’s been done to you but you can help what you do about it.”

We ate lunch at a Cracker Barrel in New York State.  It seems warmer here than in Maine, and the weather is beautiful. Back on the bus many of us either napped or read our books or both.  Until the back end of the bus erupted again.  It seems the back seats are where all the craziness happens.  General merriment and much laughing soon had everyone on the bus awake again.  Several people walked back to investigate and before long they were joining the party too.

We entered Pennsylvania in the early evening.  When traffic slowed to a crawl Dave and JR decided taking a secondary road might be advantageous. What could have been a much longer trip turned into a ten-minute detour through lush farmlands bordered by Amish farms. And we saw our first buggy since leaving home almost two weeks ago.

One of the best things about traveling on a bus, especially with people you know, is all the conversations that happen while you’re cruising down the highway.  Moving freely about at will, sitting for a time with this person or that, hearing their stories, learning about their lives – it all adds up to a wonderful time with memories formed and new relationships started. 

We are staying at the Comfort Inn in Clearfield, Pennsylvania tonight.  It is situated high on a hill overlooking all the typical fast food places one usually finds on an interstate exit.  We parked in one of those eatery’s parking lots and dispersed for a quick supper at whichever place appealed to each of us.  After a full meal and milkshake at Arby’s I decided to walk up the hill to the hotel rather than climb on the bus and getting hauled up.  Five or six others joined me.  It felt good to get a little exercise.  I’ve been packing on the pounds and getting lazy these past few weeks. It's shocking how quickly one can become addicted to self-indulgence. It’s a good thing this fun is drawing to a close before I lose all desire to be productive ever again.

After everyone was settled into the hotel for the night, Dave called a meeting to discuss possibilities for the next Stutzman Cousins Vacation.  Even though Paul and I are not Stutzmans, we have been very fortunate to be a part of two of their extended trips.  I’m already looking forward to the next time away with this group, wherever that may take me.