Wrapping Up 2012

The photo above is the very first photo I took in 2012.  Sunset in Arizona.  Me taking a photograph of a sunset--go figure.  I guess I should start a blog post about our year's travels with a photo of a sunrise but oh well.

 
First, the boring facts; we traveled 7,019.9 miles this year with The Beast.  We started the year in Arizona and ended it in South Carolina.  We visited the Pacific Ocean coastline and have stayed three months on the Atlantic Ocean coastline.  During our cross country travels Denny and I stayed at forty-three different campgrounds in eighteen states.  Of those forty-three campgrounds, twenty-two were membership campgrounds or affiliated with our member parks so we either stayed for free or at a greatly reduced ($10 a night for example) price.  Of the remaining twenty-one parks, I'm sure probably one third of those were Passport America parks where the cost of the stay is discounted at 50%.   We don't boondock, dry camp or spend the night in Walmart parking lots.  When counting up our restaurant stops I was surprised to see that Denny and I tried one hundred and nine different restaurants, cafes, diners or bars over the course of a year.   Hmmm, I can see right now where we could cut our expenses a bit!  I think Denny and I managed to play about ten new golf courses before I injured my back.   And as is usual with The Beast, we had numerous repairs to be made to the furnace, to leaking slide outs, lights, propane regulators and hoses and right at the end of the year the microwave/convection oven blew for the second time in one year (thank goodness for extended warranties.)

Ah, but the good part of traveling by RV comes next; we saw full moons over the ocean, over rivers, over lakes and over the desert.

Over the past year Denny and I have seen birds and critters and flowers galore, except when we specifically went to see something special like the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve where there were no poppies.  Sigh.  At the Mesa flea market in Arizona Denny splurged on a pair of 20 x 70 binoculars and boy have we had fun with those.  They allow you to see rock climbers and soaring birds and things you just wouldn't be able to see normally or with a regular pair of binoculars.

  

During this year's travels in California we were finally able to see the Lone Cypress and to drive Seventeen Mile Drive in Monterey.

After fourteen years on the road we finally made it to Yosemite National Park.

And the Reno/Lake Tahoe area.

I rode a duck for the first time in Wisconsin Dells.  It was there that I slipped and fell, ending up with compression fractures in two vertebra which ended our travels for six weeks while we saw a back surgeon and had our normal check ups with our family physician and dentist in Ohio.  Because it was so uncomfortable for me to ride in the truck for the long distance to our hometown from our campground Denny and I didn't get to visit with as many of our friends and family members that we would have liked.

After the back surgeon cleared me for travel Denny and I headed north to visit both sets of sons and their families before turning the nose of the truck towards Myrtle Beach.  Our intent was to check out homes in the area as a possible location to settle down, but when we found a place that we liked Denny and I found ourselves getting cold feet about the whole idea of staying in one place.  Together we realized that there are still coastlines to explore, lakes to picnic beside, bends in the roadway to follow.  Yes, if we bought a house we could always fly or drive to other areas and stay in motels but traveling in a RV allows us to take the cat with us without worrying about her care (or if she's clawing her caretaker to shreds), sleep in our own bed, cook local produce in our own kitchen and enjoy having a different view out of our windows every week.

So while we will continue to look at houses as we travel I have a sneaking suspicion that at the end of next year we'll be nestled among the saguaro cacti with a view of the Superstition Mountains out of the rear window of The Beast.  While missing the sound of the surf at Myrtle Beach.  And so it goes....

A Day at the Lake

Twenty-five miles long, one hundred thirty-five miles of shoreline, averaging 120 feet deep, clear as a bell, blue as can be.  Named Heart of  Awl in French after the negotiating skill in trading of the Schee-Chu-Umsh Indians who lived in the area (the French traders likened those skills to the sharp point of the awl), Coeur D'Alene Lake is a sparkling counterpoint to the lovely town of Coeur D'Alene.

Called a resort town, Coeue D'Alene's downtown area is compact and walkable. Filled with upscale shopping, art galleries, wine bars and restaurants the clean streets are lined with huge hanging baskets of wave petunias and many doors are open to allow the pine-scented air in along with customers.

There is whimsy to the town, personified by the Mudgy and Millie characters that dot the Mudgy Moose Trail.  Ya gotta love a town that honors the creations of one of its local residents while encouraging tourists and locals to explore the area.

Another local attraction is the 3300 foot long floating boardwalk that fronts the Coeur D'Alene resort on the the lake.  As you wander its length you can pick up some goodies at the little convenience store at one end, sit at a picnic area and watch the boats come and go or simply gaze at the beauty that is the lake and its surrounding hills.  The marina is filled with pricey toys and you can rent Sea Doos, take a sea plane ride, rent a para-sail, take an afternoon or sunset dinner cruise around the lake or simply play at the beach located at the public park next to the resort.

Denny and I made the hour long drive here because years ago his brother Doug told us that he wanted to retire to Coeur D'Alene.  That was before his diagnosis and death from lung cancer.  So we wanted to see the place that so intrigued Doug and now we know why he wanted to live here.  Good choice, Doug.

Never Listen to a Man on an ATV

I'll get to that.

Upon our arrival at our campground on Monday, the lady at the desk suggested several places to visit in the Glacier area one of which was the Polebridge Merchantile.  Not because of the history, not because of the scenic beauty, but because of their bakery.  Bakery?  'nuff said!  So yesterday's jaunt was to Polebridge to buy some huckleberry beer bread for Patty at the desk and whatever scrumptious goodies we could find for ourselves.  Understand, we were driving 25 miles one way for food; yep, that's the RV Vagabonds for you!

 Imagine our surprise to find the Polebridge Mercantile surrounded by cars and ATVs--apparently the word is out about this place!  Located 25 miles from the west entrance to Glacier National Park, 14 of those miles on dirt road, no electricity, the restrooms are outhouses and the pastries are to die for.  Along with their breads, they apparently bake a sandwich where the meat, cheeses, onions, etc are placed inside the bread and then baked.  Sounds yummy, right? We picked up a bottle of dark cherry cola to wash our huckleberry pear and lemon cheesecake Danishes down and sat on the sawed off logs on the front porch to eat the Danish while it was still warm from the oven.  There were several people wandering around the grounds since they rent cabins (and outhouses) and there's also the Northern Lights saloon/restaurant next door that is on the National Register of Historic Places.  Built by William Adair in 1904 who later built the false fronted Polebridge Merchantile, the log cabin is an attractive place to sit and rest a while, although they don't open until 4 in the afternoon.

After Denny and I finished our Danish, several men pulled up on ATVs.  I asked one of them where the road led that they had come down and he told me they led to Bowman and Kintla Lakes.  He said Bowman was nice, but Kintla was a must-see lake.  I asked if we could take the truck there without a problem and he said sure--the road got narrow in places but we'd be fine.  As the title says, never listen to a man on an ATV.  It took us two hours to drive the 16 pot-hole rutted, one lane scary, scratchy bush line roadway.  Black Beauty now has Montana pin-striping all down her passenger side which I'm hoping I can buff out eventually and Denny's blood pressure went through the roof each time we couldn't avoid a bone-jarring teeth-clattering front end alignment requiring pot hole.  The already blue skies were made bluer by his language, believe me.

After driving for what seemed to be 30 miles, we saw a park ranger by the roadside cutting up a large tree into sections.  Denny asked him how far it was to Kintla Lake and he told us another five miles.  When Denny said how he was tempted to turn around because the road was so terrible and hard on our truck, the ranger told us that the drive was well worth it (now he was the third person to tell us that because we earlier we had stopped by a road crew and asked how far to the lake and were told at that time it was still 14 miles away, but the drive was worth it) and went on to tell us he had been working there 26 years.  His name is Lyle (and I didn't get a picture, darn it!) and at 90 years old, he is the oldest park ranger in Montana.  Heck, at 90 years old, I imagine he's the oldest park ranger in the country!  Denny volunteered to help him cut the remainder of the tree, but he waved us on telling us he'd be following soon.  So we ended up driving the rest of the way--more pot holes, more cussing, more coming off the seat jarring roadway, but we made it.  Was it worth it?  Yes.  I wish we had brought water with us so that we could have taken one of the trails, but it was too hot to walk without water and this is a very primitive area.  The road dead ends at the campground/lake area.

Lyle was right behind us all the way (apparently when the park service owns your truck you can drive over potholes with abandon) and came right over to point out the Boundary Mountains and how the snow melts and flows into both Canada and the US as the Canadian border was just behind the mountains across the lake.  Lyle is in charge of clearing trees from the roads, filling the potholes with gravel, testing the purity of the water weekly and collecting camping fees and maintaining order within the campground. Kintla Lake is the cleanest lake in Montana and the state bases the quality of their other lakes on that of Kintla Lake.  There are no motor boats or trolling motors allowed on the lake, dogs are not allowed to go into the lake (nor on the trails) and the result of that is a lake that is crystal clear and absolutely gorgeous.  The lake itself is over 400 feet deep and although the ranger told us how many miles long it is, we forgot the number.  I pointed out a submerge log about 100 feet out from shore that appeared to be about ten feet underwater.  Lyle told us that the water is 40 feet deep above that log, so we were indeed impressed by the clarity of the water.

Lyle wanted to show me the baby hummers in the hummingbird nest over Kintla Creek, but after watching the mother sit and preen on a branch nearby without approaching the nest we realized that the babies must have flown.

Instead, we stood on the bridge over Kintla Creek and talked until Lyle said he needed to go fix himself some lunch.

Denny and I climbed back into the truck, girding our loins for the long, dusty and bumpy two hour drive back to Polebridge which then would leave us with another 33 miles to get to the campground.  About 3 miles out, we were passing a hiker that we had passed on the way in and he seemed to want us to stop, so we did.  Now normally we would not pick up a hitchhiker, but this man was obviously hot and tired so we asked how far he needed to go.  He only wanted a ride to the Big Prairie area as he was looking for butterflies.  Intrigued by his accent, we discovered that Glyron (no idea how to spell his name) is from Hungary and has been traveling for the last two weeks, working his way from Minnesota where he's currently based to several of the national parks before transferring to his new job with the Forest Service to a town not from from Crater Lake in Oregon.  The prairie was only about a mile and a half from where we picked him up, but talking to him distracted us from the horrible road.  I can only hope that someone picked him up on the way back.  Surprisingly, about ten people passed us going towards Kintla Lake as we were leaving (fortunately in the lane and a half areas of the road but still causing the paint scratches to the truck) so he probably had a shot at getting a ride back to the lake since it was about a six mile hike back from where we dropped him.

So was it worth it?  Thanks to Lyle and Glyron, it was.  Until I look at the truck, that is.