Home again... home again... 2021 October

Suitcases are unpacked and stored away... until next time.... laundry cleaned, dried and ironed... coziness of home wraps us in warmth and comfort.  

This sense of self, I think everyone senses this after reaching home, whether they have been away for a week or a month.  I know when we traveled in our motorhome, although enfolded in our ‘homestuff’, there would be the proverbial ‘aaaahhhh’ the first night back at home with no limitations of legroom nor strides.  As on Monday evening of our return, the bed pillows hugged us in reassurance and contentment.

But how fortuitous for all of us to be living in this America.  As with our ancestors who challenged these shores and crafted their lives, families and towns from the wildernesses, so we have taken these precious freedoms to broaden our lives with the adventures of exploring these United States.  

Where else can you get-up-and-go to the next state, the other side of the country or to either ocean and discover the distinctiveness of the area’s story; its founders and challenges of growth and discovery; its highest highs to its lowest decline.  And all along feeling a connection to this piece of ground and the people so long gone.

During this trip to the west, we could not help but marvel at the flawless miracle of God’s touch; the hues of autumn water colored across the foothills of massive mountain ranges; the simplicity of horses and bovine grazing; the splendor of watching eagles gracefully soar in the azure blue skies. 

 

We have always loved to travel… not touristy travel.. but trekking along a byway, through hamlets and villages… this is where we experience our real America… the generational farms and ranches, cemeteries reflecting lives lived and loved… the way we hope future generations will look upon us… to know and share in our history, our brief time on this piece of earth… and so, we will plan to travel again… we know not where or when… but rest assured, you will be invited along to experience the meadows and the creeks, the forests and its residents… until then… 

Life is Short…. Enjoy the Ride

 

Driggs

October 4 ~7~2021

 One of our dream wishes during of our fifty-years together was to road trip to Yellowstone National Park and see the regal eruption of the Old Faithful Geyser.  She did not disappoint; her predictability is nearly to the minute.  After arriving just minutes after an earlier display of power we found rock-star parking and ambled to the seating area provided by the park directly in front of the geyser. Although it was off-season on a Monday, there were a few hundred visitors mingling around for the next one hour and twelve minutes before OF’s next performance. I am not sure what I expected… maybe hawkers selling ‘geyser water’ or geyser steam hermetically sealed from China. 

 

However, I was impressed by the naturalness of the area; the inconspicuous attendance of the park rangers; especially those stationed on the boardwalk nearest to the three humongous bison who had rambled their way to the meadow nearest the geyser.  These big hulks of hamburger weighing about 2,000 pounds were not bothered by strangers taking their picture nor by the rumbles of the ground as the geyser was getting ready to steam skyward.  One guy seemed to preen and pose as he heard the ooohhs and aaahhs of strolling tourists.  I would have called him a ham, but I didn’t know if he would take that seriously!  Interestingly is that bison and buffalo are one-in-the-same; over the centuries buffalo has become the acceptable synonym for bison.  One impression I did have as I watched these lumbering beasts was the remembrance of the bison head imprinted on a 1959 ca nickel.  The resemblance was uncanny!

 

Be prepared to spend a lot of time in the car.  There is a massiveness of Yellowstone National Park that one can see by looking at a map. But when following the fingerprint of this park on the roadways it is quite remote to access this 4,000 square mile park...which is larger than Delaware and Rhode Island combined.  The splendidness of this park is the scenery- it is spectacular; topographical beauty of mountainous high peaks that drop to deep canyons and meadows. Sadly, we have yet to see roaming wildlife, but we have a few more days to traverse the beauty of our American west.

 

During our navigating the two-lane asphalt road winding through Yellowstone we saw hundreds of acres of blackened, seared forest floors, survivors of fires are spindles of lodgepole pines that are being reforested and offering new growth and life to this national forest.

 

The Continental Divide weaves its way through Yellowstone as it delineates the drainage flow of the east and west of America. If not for the signage you would not realize its significance as you stepped over what looks like a dried creek bed.  No neon lights or banners or flags. But worth the pull-over to stop for a pic. 

What is amazing about the landscape is that no matter where you are traveling there are glimpses of mountain vistas and bucolic valleys north, south, east, and west. I am sure professional photographers have found their go-to photo op spots, just as Ansel Adams did on the Snake River in 1942.  His critically acclaimed black n white stirred so many to revisit that site and re-make as near as perfect sans some trees.

 

Today is Thursday, October 7^th; it is the first un-sunny bright day; temp is nearing 48 with scattered drizzly showers.  During a brief weather break, before the storm clouds moved in, we shot up to the Grand Targhee Resort.. only 12 miles up the road but in Wyoming.  We climbed to nearly 9 thousand feet following a mountainous two-laner that gave us depth views hundreds of feet down to meadows and glades and break-your-neck-looking-up-views of the mountain. On the way down the mountainside, we met up with the rainstorm front and a quick glance at a grazing mule deer.  Above is a snow-bound winter day of Grand Targhee.

 We settle into the coziness of the condo we are staying at in Driggs as the cloudbursts pass over and hope the weather breaks to a nice sunny day tomorrow.

 

 

Casual Idaho/Wyoming driving

 

Feeling old? Visit the Upper and Lower Mesa Falls in the Caribou-Targhee Forest. The tumultuous roar of the falls on the Snake River are more than a million years old.  We did not hike down to feel the spray on our faces, as we have experienced at Niagara Falls, but the shuddering of ground beneath our footfalls assured us that these Upper Falls were, as advertised, shattering over the remains of the volcanic conflict of a very long, long time ago.  

Stopping at the overlook a mile south we watched the foamy, billowing foam cascading down the Lower Falls as it continued down to the base of the Snake River. 

The valley floor was markedly green with forests of lodgepole pine, spruce, and fir. Paint-brushed in hues of yellows and oranges are glorious stands of quaking Aspen.  Along the winding roadways the valleys are covered with different grasses and the bluish-gray seas of sagebrush.

 

As we traveled from Driggs north on 33/22 towards the western edge of the Teton Range, we drove along the valley floor amazed at the jagged panorama of the mountain range on our eastern side and the vast valley floor of the Teton Range on our west. The basin is the agricultural mecca for potato farmers and grain producers. With the buttes miles away, we were surrounded by thousands of acres of freshly tilled soil, just harvested of potato and wheat and barley grains.

We have been traveling these past few days through small, rural communities where patriotism is displayed, and majestic scenery can be seen from a rocking chair from a front porch or riding horseback through a meadow.

  Populations stand from the mid-700s to a booming 1,200.  Most of the elevation we have been traveling is between 6-7,000 feet; and the altitude is a challenge for having lived at sea level just a few years ago. One of the smallest communities we have visited is Felt, Idaho. Standing at an elevation of 6,486 feet, this wide place in the road has a population of 20; unfortunately, they no longer have a post office, but they do have a zip code.  A few of the roads traveled have seasonal postings of snowplowing between certain hours and road barricades for the inevitable snowfall.  We learned today the average snowfall is 150-175 inches in the Teton Valley and over 500 inches in the mountains above 9K feet.

 After exchanging an un-user-friendly vehicle at Jackson Hole Airport for a more comfortable Ford Explorer, we visited Jackson Hole Wyoming.  Well-known as a winter resort escape for the rich n powerful, we found a friendly, casual stroll along Main Street, in delightful Fall weather and azure-blue skies.  We lunched at the historic Jackson Drug where Dave ordered a juicy bison burger and I had the ubiquitous salad. 

In the days to come we will be discovering Yellowstone National Park. On an average there are 3-4 million visitors per year. We will be counting ourselves as two of those many many visitors to standing in awe and wonderment... Join us soon.. vicariously....

Going West.... Going West.... Fall 2021

 Going west.....going west.... Fall 2021

RECAP: Over the past fifty years together, between Dave and 
myself, we have traveled to all but one state (Rhode Island) in these our United States.  

One day, we will visit there… but until then… well, we decided we are aging quicker than we would like, so we have this one (probably) last trip to make… and here we are, in Driggs Idaho…. 

At the base of the Grand Tetons and a morning’s overland to Yellowstone…  I have not been here before… other than when I was but nearly five years old and so short I could not see over my shoe tops!  At that time it was a fast breeze from the east coast to the west coast sharing the backseat of a Studebaker with brother and sister.. we stopped at the Brigham Young statue that was standing in the middle of a field... today the statue is surrounded by high-rises and college students. 

 

After experiencing Covid earlier in the year, and since then not having taste nor smell resume, I have been living vicariously through Dave’s palette and senses… today as we traveled from Salt Lake City north 15 to Driggs Idaho, I missed not being able to open the car window and breath in the glorious aromas of rich loamy soil, just cultivated as truck loads of freshly dug russet potatoes bounded down the road through Cache Valley.  

Hundreds of acres of hilled rows of seed potatoes remain unearthed until these last few days of early Fall, and then are dug and shipped by tractor-trailer-loaded trucks across the country to be planted at the appropriate time. The potato farmer is a healthy contributor to the economics of Idaho and Utah in its billion-dollar business. From personal experience, potato farming is a labor-intensive, financially challenging pursuit. It is a year-round commitment, but oh to dig your fingers into a hill of potatoes and pull outta 2-pounder baking potato… priceless!

 And so, on this first evening at the foothills of this enormous mountain range, we can’t help but wonder what the first pioneers felt as they approached these startling mountain ranges.  Approaching from flat country of the Great Plains the Rocky Mountain range, at least 200 miles in the distance, must have been such a daunting, if not awesome, spectacle to our first courageous pioneers. To even consider the challenges of not only the height and breadth of these mountains but the deepening ravines and dangers. And to be astonished to find the mountains still covered in snow in early June.