Home II

Two long days of driving to get to MD from Chicago, IL and we finally made it! We decided we did not want to stop anywhere between there and here and I hoped to arrive with plenty of time before the weekend to winterize the RV and pack for our vacation.  The further East we got the roads became narrower, bumpier and steeper and the drivers drove faster and swerved in and out of the lanes. It was terrifying.  

I learned that there are RV hookups on the Ohio Turnpike where you camp at the service plaza much like at a campground. It was very convenient to get up in the morning, walk over to Panera for breakfast, and get on our way all without having to get on or off the Turnpike. What I didn’t expect were the exorbitant tolls! I forgot we were considered a truck and thus paid out the nose for using the toll roads. Lesson learned.

As we neared our destination in MD the roads literally got so small that I thought we would drive off the road. We pushed ourselves to our darkness limit and arrived at the campground just as it became dark. Phew! We could only get as close as about 45 minutes from our family but I’ll be happy to drive my car around this area rather than the big bus. As much fun as we are having in our tiny home, I’m looking forward to a little R&R from the driving tour.

The Windy City

We arrived in Chicago area at the beginning of November and again stayed at a casino campground. This time we were in Joliet, IL because that this was the closest location I could find to the city at about an hour out of downtown. Because of the late date they only offered us electric hook-ups and compensated us by charging only $12 a night! That was a deal we could not pass up. Our navigation system took us on a roundabout way through two lane country roads when I could have stayed on highway 90/94 the entire way. I hate it when I know a better route than it does and don’t take it because I think it should know best. I usually end up yelling at the darn thing at times like this, but that never helps. We figured out we had it programmed to avoid toll roads which is why we were on the back roads. That’s now fixed so it won’t do that to me anymore. Driving two lane highways for three hours was exhausting where they were both narrow and bumpy weaving in and out of the farm land of IL. So, once we arrived at the casino campground I was ready for a nap!

On our first full day in the area I took myself into the city for an architecture walking tour. It came highly recommended and I knew it was something that Adam could not easily accomplish, so I didn’t mind going myself. Since I arrived early I sauntered around Millennium Park, the park near the Museum of Art featuring contemporary sculptures and a new outdoor auditorium. They have this object that natives refer to as “the bean” instead of by its given name “Cloud Gate” because it looks like a giant silver Tiffany bean. It didn’t make sense to me why they would put it there in the first place until I read that it is supposed to reflect you and the entire city skyline in it. I became fond of it when I saw the way it curved the images. My architectural walking tour was a study of culture and commerce in historic downtown and identified the buildings best described by the Chicago Architecture style, Beaux Arts style and a few others. We wandered the lake front street of Lake Shore Drive, went in and out of hotels, and even toured what’s now Macy’s (and used to be the Marshall Fields department store). I felt a bit conspicuous standing in woman’s coats discussing the ceiling of that store, but I guess they do that all the time. When it ended at 430pm I high-tailed out of there thinking I would miss most of the rush hour traffic. Apparently in Chicago there is no escaping it. I think it is rush hour all day long! It took me almost 1 ½ hours to get back to the RV. But, the drive was well worth it.



Cloud Gate



I had planned to return to the city the next day with Adam and the dog for a day at the art museum, but we noticed that Sequoia had been licking his toe. Unfortunately we discovered he had an abscess and required a trip to the local vet. What did that dog get into? We think it might have been a thorn that had just worked its way out, but he required some antibiotics and a doggy ace bandage to keep him from bothering it while it healed. Our art tour was delayed by one day. The next day we all loaded into the car, bandages and all, and headed for the museum. On my previous outing to the city I discovered an underground parking garage near the museum, but soon found out that I scraped the ceiling and signs with the bubble on my car, so this time we elected to look for street parking. It was a nice surprise to find out that people with handicapped placards are allowed to park in any metered spot in the streets of Chicago for free and for as long as necessary! Score! That’s one more freebie in our pocket for being disabled. Hey, we have to look on the bright side of life. The National Parks Pass is our favorite benefit so far though.

We unloaded the electric wheelchair, the bandaged dog and all our rain gear prepared to wander the windy city. It was quite a site. I think Sequoia got the most looks with his bandaged foot and plastic bag protector to keep it dry while walking through puddles in the street. He didn’t seem to mind the looks or the bag though. He paid more attention to the motorized thing next to him and tried to avoid getting run over by it. We wandered for a few hours in the museum taking new routes to me by way of the various elevators. They should have a separate map for people with wheels. I know elevators are shown on the existing maps, but they were not very descriptive about where it was necessary to avoid stairs. I felt like I was constantly asking the guards for directions because I had come across stair obstacles. I must have looked very confused because a woman from the visitor’s desk who was just passing through the gallery where I stood staring at my map actually stopped to offer me directions. I think she knew that I was trying to figure out the best path for Adam and his chair.

After an amazing three hour time at the museum (we can’t remember the last time we were able to stay out that long without Adam practically disintegrating) we decided to search for the best Chicago style pizza. Our book told us that Gino’s East was the place to go, so we headed that way. No one told me that they put their sauce on top of their cheese! I was aware it was going to be deep dish, but the order of the ingredients was a bigger shock than the crust. I’m still partial to Beau Jo’s pizza in Idaho Springs, CO. Sorry Chi-town famous pizza.

On our day off from sightseeing, we all got our hair done including Sequoia. I treated myself to a manicure and laundry drop-off service (where someone else does your laundry and folds it for you), and ran around picking up prescriptions and RV parts (these seem to be common errands these days). Since our campground had no water we had to hunt for one in the area that would allow us to fill our tanks and dump. We discovered that our black tank (the sewage) would not empty without hooking water up to our sewer rinse and thus was full. It was kind of like having a clogged toilet. Once we travelled to another campground that allowed us to rinse and dump at the same time, the clog cleared. It was gross and my least favorite part of RV’ing so far!

We plan to finish off our delightful Chicago stay with a trip to the Adler planetarium and possibly the aquarium. We are on the last leg of our Midwest journey and are ready to take in some Eastern US culture very soon. I’m glad we had this chance to stop here though. It’s been an adjustment reassimilating into city life after spending so much of these past few months in rural parts of the country. I hate to say it, but the people of IL came across to me as rude and not so nice on more than one occasion. I might have expected to be treated this way as an out of state guest in NYC, but I never expected to feel this way here. The people I have encountered do not smile and use a tone of voice that makes me feel like I am inconveniencing them by asking questions. In my customer service years I hope I never treated people like the way I’ve been treated. Is the economy that bad that people have lost the warmth in their hearts and have resorted to treat others so cold? I long for the niceness of small town USA and hope this is not representative of how most large cities treat their guests. I guess for the time being, if I don’t like the area, I’ll just turn on my engine and move!

Wisconsin Dells

Though I spent one summer at camp in WI I’d never spent any time sightseeing there. Driving to Chicago from Minneapolis took us through the heart of cheese country. I now see why they are the dairy land. It’s full of lush farmland. With Welsh ancestry, they must have imported the art of farming and making cheese.

We stayed in the Wisconsin Dells area which is known for their great water parks. Each hotel there is like a water wonderland. What an amazing place to take kids! We took our night’s rest at the Ho-Chunk casino parking lot. Free camping! From there I drove the car to Spring Green which was the family farm area of Frank Lloyd Wright and the setting for one of the recent bestselling novels Loving Frank. I took an architectural tour of the home which followed the descriptions in the book. It was a neat concept for a tour, but in retrospect I should have simply taken the house tour that would have gone into more detail about the home and FLLW’s thought process rather than the one that described how the home looked at the time his mistress lived there (regardless of the fact that it looks nothing like it did then today because it had since burned down twice). But, it was fascinating nonetheless. A woman who grew up in the town and had been known to run into FLLW from time to time read excerpts from the book. That was more interesting to me than her dynamic reading.

That same day, after an hour drive each way to Spring Green and once back at the camper, I convinced Adam to come with me to see the Circus World museum. Barnum and Bailey’s home farm is located in Baraboo, WI which is the same town as our resting stop. They used this area as their winter residence until they could afford to move it to Florida. That makes much more sense to me. Why would they winter in a harsh climate like WI? Free lodging, I guess. Reviews on the museum said to take kids during the summer when they have performances and being that it was the last day of their season there were none. But, since we are just big kids and could get over the disappointment of no performances we ventured there anyway and were not disappointed in the least. It was fascinating! I know that in the day and age when this circus was in its prime they did not treat the animals with the utmost respect, but I love the circus anyway. The fantastical, seemingly magical lifestyle of a travelling circus mesmerizes me. This museum has the largest display of circus wagons anywhere in the country. And to think they are over 100 years old and still work! My favorite part of the exhibit was the display on clowns and the description of the different types of clown faces. I had no idea it was such an art form. I wish we had more time to spend there, but we had arrived just one hour before their closing and really needed three and one-half. The front desk lady said she had been known to lock people inside the museum, so we ran through it just in enough time to get out alive.

We could not leave WI without visiting a cheese factory. So, the next morning we awoke as early as we could to drive to the Carr factory nearby. Apparently the best time to see the cheese making process is early in the morning, but we were not quite early enough. I had read the process takes from about 8-1130am, but in reality they began unloading the milk from local farmers at 130am and the entire process was done the day we arrived by about 10am. So, we missed the actual cheese making, but watched an informative video. The factory we saw has been making cheese using the same families’ dairy cows for almost a century. As they put it, “their cows have names.” I guess they use small farmers who have so few cows that they can name them. Our favorite cheese we tasted there was called Melange which was a mixture of sheep, cow and goat’s milk. Yum. I also learned that a good cheddar is supposed to give you a twinge of a sour feel when you eat it just in the back of your jaw. You learn something new every day. We walked out having purchased a 10 year aged cheddar for its geschdalt. It was a treat.

Wisconsin and its cheese did not disappoint, but if I lived here I would be as round as the rest of the people I saw in the area. I think they need to start growing some vegetables and varying their diets!

Little RV on the Prairie



Needles Highway, Custer State Park
(Adam's at the very bottom)



We finally made it out of Colorado, and have been crossing the great open plains in the last few weeks. Heading in the direction of Minneapolis to visit friends, we took the route through South Dakota. Because we learned that we cannot push ourselves to drive too long each day or else we end up driving in the dark our first stop was a small little town of Lusk, WY just as a stopover for the night. Not much to speak of there. There was a grocery store.

The next day we headed for Custer State Park in the Black Hills of South Dakota. This park was much like Yellowstone with herds of bison roaming, deer, but they also had bighorn sheep. That was cool! They appeared to be a very segregated bunch. The females were down the road grazing while the male rams were found in the hills lying down and resting. Lazy bastards. I found it interesting that they were not intermingled. Maybe there would be fighting. We stopped at the visitor center to gather information on what part of the park to seek. Since hiking is a main attraction (which we cannot do) we took advice on what scenic roads to travel. Needles Highway came highly recommended and was absolutely gorgeous! The road spiraled with hairpin turns and one lane tunnels through the granite. High spires of granite pointed towards the sky like rockets gracing the cliffside. It really was a unique looking park, though it reminded me somewhat of the sandstone spires in Arches National Park in Moab, UT.

We continued the day with lunch in the town of Custer, SD. Since Adam and I have both been to Mt. Rushmore during our childhood years we elected to skip that eye sore. I know it’s a modern marvel, but did we really need our four presidents’ heads carved into the side of a mountain? I’d rather enjoy nature’s natural pictures and look at their faces in a book. After lunch we continued to loop back to our camper by way of Wind Cave National Park. This wasn’t our best planning since the last cave tour was at 3pm and we arrived at 445 we didn’t get to see this great beauty. Apparently there are hundreds of feet of underground caves filled with lots of minerals to see. We did get to see the only natural entrance to the wind cave and felt the wind blowing out of it. Not too exciting if you ask me. Unfortunately, even if we had made it in time for the tour there would have been over 200 stairs that would probably not have worked for Adam anyway. It’s a different type of national park though.

Big Horn Sheep in Custer

After a few days of rest near Custer State park we headed out for the Badlands of South Dakota. I had no idea there was so much ground to cover between Custer and the Badlands. It was straight and brown topped off with wind. Thank goodness we had the Harry Potter book on tape to get us through the prairie. That could have been a very long drive!



Sequoia in the Badlands

Once we arrived at the Badlands we elected to stay at the one open RV park we could find. It was so deserted that I thought we were the only ones there but it turned out it was hunting season and they had cabins rented to hunters. I think I need to get Sequoia one of those orange vests so he’s not mistaken for prey! We then drove through the Badlands and scouted for the photo spots where Adam wanted to take sunset pictures, grabbed a quick dinner in Wall, SD and then headed back. Anyone ever heard of Broasted chicken? I think it must be a South Dakota thing. I asked the waitress whether it was like roasted chicken and she said “yeah, it’s broasted.” It was not like roasted chicken at all! I was hoping it was a combination of roasting and broiling, but it was really flash fried, but not fried as much as fried chicken. It was juicy though, but probably juicy from grease. It burned my mouth.



Sunset at Badlands



The Badlands held our interest for a few days and once Adam was happy with the photographs he shot we were on our way to MN to visit friends. Again we headed out onto the open prairie. This time we stayed in Sioux Falls, SD for our stopover. Now, it has been a little more than a week since we left Denver where our last breakage occurred and nothing has happened to us lately. It was due time. The day we set to head out of Sioux Falls, I checked the tire air pressure in our car and it turned out to be low. So, I thought it smart to stop at the truck stop and fill the tires with air. Apparently, their air connections didn’t like my tires and pulled the plug right out of the front one. I immediately got a flat tire! I had a sinking suspicion that the spare tire was under the fabulously heavy ramp we had just installed in the van. Lucky for me, a nice attendant from the gas station came out to help me change the tire which we discovered was in the middle of the chassis, and I was soon off to get the tire fixed. It could have been much worse. We were only slightly delayed and located in a large city. Now I can check that repair off my list!

Finally, after only a few hours of driving we arrived at a casino RV park near Minneapolis (again because it was one of the only one I could find open this time of year) and we were set to visit our friends. Lucky for us we both have close high school friends in this strange city. We planned to leave at the beginning of the week, but were just hit with hurricane force winds which make it almost impossible to drive a 13 foot high box down the road. So, we are hunkered down for the time being and praying for NO SNOW!

The Fossil Hunter

Along with our recently found hobby of rock hounding, hunting for fossils may be our new favorite activity. It takes a bit more muscle because the rocks are bigger than little crystals but the reward is well worth it. Recently we had the chance to dig around in a shale quarry near Boulder, CO. It’s a working mine that produces rock for asphalt. They dig it up, toss it around and grind it down to various grades and sizes. It’s amazing how people can make money selling dirt! This mine opens on Friday afternoons for school groups and other amateurs interested in digging for fossils because it is known to have them.

We met up with the rock club at the quarry entrance with our hard hats, steel toed boots, rock hammers, buckets and gloves in tow. We took a safety seminar and then caravanned down into the pit. Only about seven people from the club showed with four cars. Once we arrived, everyone unloaded their stuff each with an orange Home Depot bucket. We looked like little clones of one another. The leader of the trip was a geologist. He and his friend/business partner told us they had been searching for fossils for 25 years in this same area. So, they gave us a quick lesson on what to look for and sent us off into the mounds of dirt. A few hammer sledges later, voila! An Ammonite appeared in one of my rocks. They told me I hit a fossil rich vein. Beginner’s luck, I say. Ammonites are 65 million years old and resemble a Nautilus in today’s day and age. They grow in a spiral shape and lived under the sea. We identified where to dig based on looking for white calcite in the darker grey rock. My hot vein was close to a red iron ore line within the grey rock and proved to be littered with sea life. We discovered many clam and mussel shells as well as ammonites of all shapes and sizes. Adam also pulled out a Baculite (a tubular animal related to the Ammonite but looking more like a snake) which added to our jackpot day. Unfortunately that rock weighed about 10 lbs because we had to keep both sides (the fossil and the cast).

This past weekend we had the chance to search for fossils in a sandstone quarry near Florissant, CO and Fossil Bed National Monument. Located on private land (which is a good thing because you cannot dig on nationally protected monuments) the family simply mines section of their sandstone walls for individuals to come out and fossil hunt. They have found many leaves, plant life and even a bird in this location. So, we loaded up our bucket and gear and prepared for a heavy day of rock lifting. We arrived at the gate met by two teenagers who directed us to the site. The girl gave us a razor blade, butter knife and a putty knife and set us off to work. That’s it? What about my hammer and my bucket? I thought I was going to get to dig out my slice of sandstone, but instead there were piles of it lying on the ground from which to pick. She showed us how to scrape off the layers of sandstone very carefully to reveal potential fossils. So we picked up the largest sandstone blocks we could find (as recommended by our friends at the last fossil hunt) and sat down at a table to split them open. First tap, slice, open sesame! I found a leaf in a huge piece of sandstone! Beginner’s luck, again? Maybe not. Maybe I have the skill or possibly a new career?

We tapped and scraped away until we had a nice stack of leaves, one flower, a piece of wood and some weeds fossilized in sandstone. I elected to stick with splitting open a large piece at a time instead picking away at tiny corners of stone. There was a better chance of finding a whole leaf rather than bits and pieces. After two hours of tedious work we cut our losses at not finding a fish or a bird, and piled up our stack of stone to go on our way. I don’t think I have the patience to make fossil hunting a true career, but it sure is a fun activity for the day! For anyone with kids, I highly recommend joining a rock club or even simply picking up a book on rock hounding in your area (it usually includes fossil sites too). It’s a great, mostly free activity for the whole family. And if you have the choice, I recommend digging in sandstone rather than limestone or shale. It is lighter and easier to pick up and carry home.

Things are looking up

Finally, something seemed to go right in our mountain of tasks requiring achievement in order to make our trip possible. All the ramp makers said it could not be done, but somehow, with lots of brainpower, we were able to figure out a way to install our rear-door entry wheelchair ramp over our stow-and-go van seats. And it’s awesome! I never thought I’d get so excited over a ramp.

Our Dilemma: Wheelchair ramps are meant to be bolted to the car frame and not over stow-and-go seats. Previously there was a wheelchair ramp product produced that fit into a trailer hitch and rested on the outside of a van. This allowed for easy installation and disassembly and more space in the vehicle for cargo, but it did not protect the ramp from the elements. The second problem…this ramp is no longer made. After an exhaustive search we were unable to find this product anywhere. We spoke to a welder who told us converting it into a trailer-hitch application would be a simple modification (of course if you are a welder, but not for anyone else!) if we purchased a pre-built ramp first. Therefore we planned to purchase a pre-made, spring-loaded wheelchair ramp and transform it into a trailer hitch compatible unit it once the wheelchair arrived. When that time came, we had the ramp and returned to the welder, but he was too busy to help us in our short timeframe. This pushed us to seek out four more fabricators and the last was finally able to help us.

The Solution: It took some work, but this guy came up with an elegant solution. He manufactured a steel plate for us that would rest on top of our stowed seats securely and allow us to bolt the ramp down onto it and disallowing the base from flying forward or flipping up when lowering and folding up the wheelchair ramp. This was a breath of fresh air. It’s funny, his company actually produces western entertainment shows. I saw him riding in a toy train and working on a stage coach one day too. I’m not sure where the steel manufacturing business came into play. The knowledge must be necessary in the field of western entertainment!

I know most of you never considered installing a ramp inside your cars, but when it’s necessary, it’s a huge deal and a fiasco getting it right. I’m thrilled that this dilemma is solved and is actually usable.

The Real South Park

Many of you only know South Park as an adult cartoon and may not know that it is a real place (kind of like how I didn’t know Coney Island was a real place and not just a hot dog stand in the mountains, but that’s what I get for growing up in Colorado all my life!). This past weekend we had the chance to stay in South Park, CO with our friends. It is literally a vast, flat area, a mountain park sitting between mountain ranges. It’s ideal ranch land. The one similarity it does have to the cartoon is the remoteness from other towns. Fairplay is nearby, but it has maybe one grocery store and a post office. About a 1 ½ hour drive from Denver, we set out to find our friends’ land. Locating land is different from locating a house. And, in South Park there are not a lot of landmarks. With directions to look for things like a canoe sticking out of a windmill, a fake buffalo on the side of the road, and a Twinkie on the hill, we could only hope we would be able to find the correct piece of land before dark.

So, we set out on our treasure hunt determined to reach our destination. The last stretch of the road was the most difficult and rugged. It was 12 miles of dirt, washboard roads. For those of you who have never experiences washboard roads, they are like being a piece of fabric dragged like laundry across a century-old washboard. There is no rest from the evenly spaced ripples and bumps. To this day I still have not figured out how the washboard roads are actually created, but I do know they are a big pain on which to drive. They are an anomaly in the non-paved road world and wreak havoc on your vehicle. The bigger the vehicle the more distinctly you feel the bumps.

We approached the road initially going too fast at 20 mph (the speed limit was 45). After hitting one too many ruts we finally slowed down to 5 mph inching down this terrain at a snail’s pace. Short of stopping this speed was the only way we could feel confident that our rig would not shake apart and break everything in the RV. Just as we reached the last turn to our destination I experienced my heart jump into my throat. I thought we had cleared the left turn when I felt the back right tire sink down into the drainage ditch on the side of the road and the front driver’s side rise up into the air. The RV felt as if it was leaning and the right side heading towards the ground. It happened in slow motion. I was sure we were going to tip over . I slammed on the gas hoping to have enough momentum to pull the rig out of the ditch. Miraculously, the front end descended back to earth and the back rose up from the depths of drainage. Breathe. I was shaking so hard that I had to stop and regain my composure before heading down the road. I didn’t see that one coming. It was as if the earth opened up and sucked my back tire down into it. That was one driving incident I hope never to repeat.

The more I drove on these back roads, the more I discovered that they were as soft as a sandy beach and even a minor slope could make me feel like we were going to topple over. So, in hindsight my spatial judgment was not wrong and I didn’t actually fall into the ditch. The slight incline near the edge made me feel like we were tipping, but in fact, we were still on the road. Live and learn. But, for now, I’ll stick to the middle of the roads on which I travel!

Trash - 10/3/10

It becomes very apparent how much trash we generate from all our purchases of food and other products when you have to collect it in your home and carry it with you until you find a dumpster in which to unload it. We have been pretty good about throwing out our trash daily, but our recent trip to Denver provided us the opportunity to re-provision and thus to shop.


Our first stop was Costco which entailed stocking up on Splenda, granola bars, and medicines. We picked up soda pop from the grocery store and lots of cereal. Each of these items came in cardboard packaging that required collapse before throwing away. The worst offenders of excess packaging are the medicine companies. The packages from Costco were twice as big as the medicine bottles themselves. We elected to remove as much cardboard outer packaging as possible and combine our lot into plastic bags. I’m not sure this is so much better for the environment, but it certainly fit more easily in our storage bins.

I am amazed by how much trash we can collect even in one day. Does anyone have suggestions on how to reduce it? I’m thinking of simply purchasing fresh produce from now on and then I’ll just be stuck with the plastic bags. Then again, that would involve me cooking every day. I don’t think that is realistic.

End of an Era - 9/18/10

Regrouping in Denver for Yom Kippur and my niece’s baby naming was a pleasant surprise but came with unexpected feelings. With the arrival of a few out of town family members, we had the chance to see the family and many friends all in three days. Packed with meals of heavy food and feelings of nostalgia we left with full stomachs and fond memories. It was nice to see everyone again, but I didn’t expect to feel sad on such a joyous occasion.

When we started this journey two months ago I was excited to see the country and was so preoccupied with trying to live in this mobile house that I didn’t allow myself to feel the sense of loss of leaving this place. We planned to travel through Colorado this summer, and I always knew that we would be back to Denver this week. I unconsciously deferred my feelings until now. Now that the time is here I feel conflicted between being happy to continue our adventure and sad to leave the place I have always called home. Though my physical home is on wheels and my sense of home is wherever I am with Adam (and Sequoia), the place I will always call home is here in Denver with close family and friends; the people who have known me since I was a child and know me best.

Somehow it is different moving away this time. Our previous moves were temporary; each one precipitated by educational reasons. I felt like we always had the choice to settle back here if we wanted. And we did make that choice to come back but are now forced to make a different one due to medical needs. Knowing how difficult this move has been on us mentally and physically I can not anticipate doing it again to return. Thus, this choice feels final. The heavy burden and weight of this responsibility fell mainly on my shoulders due to Adam’s physical limitations making it unfathomable to think about moving long distance again given how tired I am this time. It is also virtually impossible for Adam to travel by plane anymore with the oxygen needs. So, unless we choose to drive back (which does not seem likely without our house on wheels which we plan to sell at the end of this journey), he will most likely not have a chance to return to Colorado. This somehow adds to the finality of this move.

We will miss everyone from and everything about Denver and can only hope for a smooth transition to the new place we will eventually call home. I hope you each remember us kindly and come visit us often wherever we may land. We love you all and thank you for supporting us through the years.

Kids Hold the Keys

During my past travels to foreign countries I discovered a community’s secrets are often best revealed by their children. They project naïveté, offer brutal honesty and are a wealth of information. Blissfully unaware of their actions, they return our inquiries with thoughtful questions about our personal reasoning forcing us to reevaluate our culture while concurrently discovering their own.


Bordering the Navajo Indian Reservation, Page, AZ has a population of close to 2000 people. You can drive a loop around the town in five minutes and children of all ages often walk the streets alone, apparently without fear of being taken like kids in a larger city. Their main industry pertains to the energy and water distribution from the Glen Canyon Dam and tourism at Lake Powell. Other than that there was not much going on here. I heard whispers from locals about how hard it was to find jobs in the area. The town supports a Walmart and several fast-food restaurants which employ locals, and the Navajo are given preferential treatment for available jobs at the coal power plant built on their reservation land. But, it still seemed too small to support the number of individuals looking for work.

I sensed an interesting dynamic between the Navajo and the White folks living among them. This was clearly the Navajo’s land and had been for hundreds of years since the US government awarded them their ancestral homelands as their reservation (though they share small pockets of it with other tribes). There was an obvious cultural separation between the Whites and the Navajo, yet they appeared to co-exist respectfully.

While golfing one day I met a couple of ninth grade boys. They were practicing for their school’s golf team and took the time to give me a few pointers on my swing. Something led me to believe that they were not Native Americans. As we chatted I learned more about the Navajos. I asked the boys about the roaming dog populations that I consistently noticed on each reservation. First, according to them, I needed to understand that the Navajo believe that the strength of the dog’s fight reflects upon the family who owns it. In other words, the meaner the dog is, the stronger the family. Of course, I do not know if this interpretation is accurate, but if it is true, then the information connected another piece of the puzzle for me. It explained why, while shopping with Sequoia one day at Walmart, a young boy around the age of four had asked me whether Sequoia was mean. He also questioned whether I just tell him to bite people when I want him to bite. I thought this was a strange view on dogs and felt very sad for this child who obviously had a bad experience with them. It was possible that in his mind a fighting dog was not a negative thing but a reflection of a family’s power and pride. This perspective was definitely opposite from my perception of my fluffy, cuddly, black mop, licker of a dog who could be considered only vicious to a lollypop.

There was no animosity in the boys’ voices, and no racism or degradation expressed, yet they conveyed an outsider’s view of the Navajo culture keeping them worlds apart from one another. Kids are still kids, and if there were tensions between the communities and if their parents held contempt for the Navajo, then I would have heard it in the way they spoke about them. It is reassuring to see that the inhabitants of this small town can each keep their strong cultural ties and cohabitate among one another peacefully. This experience simply reminded me that children are the keys to unlock the untold secrets of a culture.

Telluride

Most people go to mountain towns and get their exercise by hiking or biking. Me, I get mine by pushing a wheelchair around mountain streets with hills and rocks. It was not exactly the way I pictured experiencing that city.

We drove in to Telluride, CO with our big rig and stopped at the visitor center to find out where to have lunch and park for the day. I guess we were lucky to even find a place to park there. The streets were either one way or very narrow. It was an interesting place with victorian styled homes built to look like period homes, but they were all new and all for sale! I'd snatch one up if I could. It was very quaint.

The visitor center had recommended we take the free gondola ride up to mountain village and have lunch. Since there was little parking and Adam was not feeling well we decided to take the wheelchair...and the dog. Sequoia's not used to walking with the chair yet and he kept stopping. I think he was afraid of being run over and probably rightly so. But, he made it worse by putting the brakes on therefore pulling my wrists and making me swing the chair around. It was a wonder that I didn't dump Adam over on his side.

Once we three got into a rhythm we walked all of four blocks (which felt like a mile) to the gondola village. After that excursion I was sweating, out of breath and in no mood to stuff the three of us and the wheelchair into a gondola. So, we elected to eat outside at the base of the mountain. Of course we had to choose the couch in the shade which was just in reach of the sprinklers which, according to the waitress, never soak customers but chose that day to do so all over us. Well, that felt good.

Lunch was ok and the scenery was breathtaking. We strolled leisurely back to the camper (it was downhill) and took our time leaving. Telluride is a town I would like to revisit maybe one day for an outdoor film festival. I can see why celebrities choose to make their mountain homes here. It's so remote that it is difficult to get to and easy to hide away. The drive alone was worth the visit.
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Happy New Year

We're spending Rosh Hashana this year wandering in the desert...literally. There are no synagogues anywhere in the vicinity nor is there a Jewish food section at the grocery store. But, the views are beautiful, the temperature is moderate and the stars are gorgeous.

While Adam has rested most of the day, Sequoia and I have spent the day taking several walks and teaching him to pick up items off the floor and giving them to me. He picked up on this new trick in about one hour. We'll keep working on it, but he's well onto his way to learning a new task that will be helpful to Adam.

L'shana tova, my friends and family. Hope it is a happy, healthy new year for us all.

Antelope Canyon

One of the most highly sought out photographic spots is a slot canyon called Antelope Canyon located on the Navajo Indian reservation near Page, AZ. We have been trying to get here for four years and finally we saw it. I expected a gorgeous photographic opportunity, but I did not expect the number of other tourists. I had the idea that it was a sacred place, quiet, peaceful, serene and calm. It was so crowded that it felt like a sea of cameras.

Because it is on the reservation, and there is a slight risk of flash floods, you are required to go through the canyon with a Navajo guide. They take you on a three mile ride in a bumpy jeep driven by your guide down a massive sandbar called Antelope Wash. It felt like a rollercoaster. We deliberated about taking a photo tour versus a regular tour because it appeared that the photo tours lasted longer. But, we ended up doing the regular 1 ½ hour tour and just took a little extra time. I stayed slightly ahead of Adam gathering information from the other guides as to what to photograph. But, I was stressed since we seemed to be moving at a glacial pace and the jeeps for the ride back were not waiting for us. I was not confident our guide even knew that we were on his jeep.

Trying to be patient while Adam took his photographs, I knew my patience tends only lasts about 10 minutes. After that, I’m usually in the car reading a book or knitting. I did not have that option today since we had to take a jeep ride back. So, this wasn’t my best day. Don’t get me wrong, the canyon was beautiful and most of the cool shots were above everyone else’s head. But, how many shots can you take of sandstone? I hope we got at least one good shot!

It turned out, our guide returned to get us about 45 minutes after our original tour ended. That was such a relief. And, I learned a few things. The canyon was not traditionally a sacred place. It was not discovered until the time around when they were building the Glen Canyon dam. The Navajo knew they were surrounded by slot canyons, but they have about 100 different canyons in the area. This one probably because famous because of a photographer who successfully marketed his/her prints. Regardless, it was beautiful, but not one I would say was worth trying to photograph in the midst of the hoards of people.

Dam Tour

Today we took a tour of the Glen Canyon dam located at the southern end of Lake Powell. Considered one of the most highly regulated dams in the country because it directly affects the Grand Canyon ecosystem, the Glen Canyon dam was no small project. Constructed over 10 years from 1956-1966, the dam was built to wall up the water coming from the Utah to Arizona direction of the Colorado River. Call me dense, but I thought that the dam took water coming from the Grand Canyon direction, harnessed it somehow, pooled it into Lake Powell, and used it to generate energy. I was a bit backwards. It took 13 years after construction to fill Lake Powell completely. It took three years to pour all the necessary concrete and used enough to build a four lane highway from Phoenix, AZ to Chicago, IL. A power plant was built to generate energy from this natural hydro-monster that is distributed among 4 states and two countries. On the nearby Navajo reservation there is an eye sore of another power plant. It’s a coal generated power plant and that was constructed solely to create a system of energy to power the systems needed to distribute the water to the various states. It’s the first thing you see coming into Page from the West. Kind of ugly.

Adam had the foresight to bring the wheelchair and being a federal facility it was wheelchair accessible. It was a good thing too because it was a long walk. We took two elevators down to the power plant which was close to 2000 feet down from the top and it was a long walk. It was fascinating. Since 9/11 they have stepped up the security in the federal locations such as this dam, but we were still allowed to bring in a camera, bottle of water, car keys and our wallets. We could not bring any bags of any kind or colored water bottles (interesting?). The thing that fascinated me the most about this dam, except for the grandeur, was the fact that the dam could last 700 years before it is expected to falter. That’s one strong wall of dirt! There was one other interesting tidbit (besides the obvious unbelievable amounts of energy generated through this wall). They planted grass at the base of the dam to insulate the pipes in which the water flowed from the lake through the power plant. They water it using the seepage from the rock walls and have to mow it every week. I think they should have made an employee putting green. It was beautiful. Our grass in Colorado never gets that green. I know some golfers who would be saddened by this missed opportunity.

Who knew that I would be so fascinated by this monstrous engineering creation? I don’t think I need to tour another one any time soon, but I learned a lot. I do, however, want to go jump in Lake Powell. They say the water is 80 degrees Fahrenheit at the top. That’s still cool when the weather is 100.

Opposites Attract

We are spending the week at Lake Powell in Page, AZ. It is a manmade lake created by damning up a river and flooding the canyons that are located in the middle of a desert. It’s so big it took 13 years to fill! This is a picturesque place with tall, red sandstone walls filled with water bordered by blue skies, and brown sand. It’s a water paradise in the middle of the desert. As I sit and stare at the lake taking in the beauty around me I can’t help but think about my friend who took family vacations here as a child. She raved about her time here. They rented a houseboat and she spent the summer jumping off the back and going down the slide into the water from the upper deck of the boat, waterskiing, swimming, tubing, exploring, and living a seemingly idyllic lifestyle for the week. But, then I have other knowledge about the lake through another friend. Her friend, a young man in his late twenties, a newlywed, an active, strong guy, died here while on vacation with friends. How can one place build such beautiful visions for one person and such horrifying memories for another? It is just an example of the oxymorons in life.

Have you ever noticed that the beautiful things in nature can also harm you? Roses smell sweet and look gorgeous but have thorns. A sunny day is bright and cheery and may uplift your spirits but it can also burn your skin if you stay out in it too long. The clichés about how the good comes with the bad are true. Someone or something wants us to appreciate the beauty while we can because there is always a flip side that can appear at any moment. The Yin and Yang are all around us. The phrase “it’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all” illustrates the impossibility of having any positive feelings for something and expecting to escape the negative ones. Happiness is often paired with sadness. In health there can be illness. The end of life is death.

These paradoxes in nature should have been obvious to me by this stage of my life, but they did not really resonate with me until now. I guess I had to live this long to experience enough situations to convince me to truly appreciate the good while it lasts. It is easy for others to tell us to appreciate what we have in life, but it is another and much more powerful notion to come to the realization yourself. Look around your world. Do you see how full it is of the delicately balanced opposites? Recognizing their alter-egos and trying to imagine yourself in the negative situation instead of the positive one will help to drive home the point that you should never take the good for granted.

Dog Park Etiquette

One of the RV parks we recently visited offered a beautiful 2-acre dog park which came fully stocked with holes in the ground, plenty of weeds, and the occasional left over poop from previous dogs and faulty owners. It failed to offer toys, water for tired dogs or poop bags to help owners clean up, however, it did provide a trash can and 3-foot fence around the perimeter. Obviously this park was not built to hold large dogs such as my 50 lb Labradoodle who could jump that fence in an instant if he so desired. I’ve never seen so many Shitzhus and miniature everythings in one place before and in my entire dog owning career. It’s no wonder the fence was so short. They don’t expect anyone to be travelling with a dog larger than a purse. I even saw a woman walking her cat on a leash! I wonder what would happen if she let him loose in the dog park (hee hee).


Even though I am currently travelling in the great wilderness of the Southwest and should be able to let my dog run anywhere in a national forest, a dog park provides me comfort. It is a safe haven where I don’t worry about him running into the road when playing with his friends. Before entering the park sometimes other dog owners asked me if my dog is friendly. Am I right in saying if your dog is not friendly then you should not take him to the park? If he can’t play nicely with others, then he gets a time out or no play time for him. Of course my dog is friendly! And he’s playful. If they pose the question, then it’s usually their dogs that aren’t friendly to mine.

RV dog parks do offer the occasional Labrador, Shepherd mix, Border Collie, or Golden Retriever who can handle Sequoia’s size. He tends to jump on their backs trying to display his dominance. I usually let him fight it out with his fellow dogs, but their owners seem so uncomfortable with him atop their dogs. I’m not a seasoned dog park go-er, so I don’t know all the rules. Are you supposed to stop your dog from jumping on other dogs? He’s just being a dog. I can understand the owners of vertically challenged dogs fearing for their dog’s life given that one swat from Sequoia’s paw could topple them over, but he would not hurt them. He just wants the live chew toy to run with him and play.

The RV lifestyle is not always healthy for dogs. Much like semi-truck drivers who stay stationary for long stretches of time and who may eat junk food along their travels resulting in obesity, dogs gain weight on road trips too. I dare not say anything to the owners about their dog’s size, but please, give those poor things exercise and/or stop feeding them table scraps. I read that an extra two pounds on a small dog puts a lot of strain on his heart. I now know that if my dog starts getting fat, then he (and probably me too) is not running around enough. We should all learn a lesson from this story. Owners should run their dog(s) daily, and most importantly run after them so neither being starts to look like a bowling ball. Who needs a scale when we have our dog to tell us whether we are gaining weight? Do me a favor though; if you think my dog looks fat, don’t tell me. I might take it personally.

Breakdown

When you hear the word “breakdown” you might think of dancing and breaking down moves or, on the other extreme, a nervous breakdown. Neither quite fit this situation though the second would be closer to correct. We’ve been on the road for a few weeks and in the last few days we had our first issue that stopped us in our tracks and put our plans on hold.


Each time we’ve moved, even if it was down the street, we have beared some sort of damage. One time we moved and a pop bottle fell off the counter and exploded in the middle of our kitchen/dining/living room covering them all in Diet Coke. The crown molding popped off the kitchen cabinets when I closed the slide. A piece of plexiglass fell out of a glass-fronted door. The vacuum fell from a standing position and scratched the wood paneling on the refrigerator. The front of the pantry drawer came apart by the shimmying of the coach and the weight of canned goods. And then there was the time I backed into a brick wall. We’ve quickly learned to expect these types of things to happen. Every RV’er has stories like these to tell so we know it’s not just us being unobservant or inexperienced. Houses are not meant to be moved. Up until now each of our war wounds was cosmetic and could be fixed within our own timeframe. No issue was pressing enough to inhibit us from travel, but the latest episode was the exception.

Our lube pump alarm blared on and off in our coach for no apparent reason. This siren indicates to the driver in the RV that the pump in the car has failed. When this happens the manufacturer recommends stopping immediately. Dragging the car on four wheels without the pump could ruin the car’s transmission and spoil a good investment. So, we were officially broken down (since I can’t drive two vehicles at once) and had to find an expert. We were unable to diagnose the problem ourselves the day before even with phone assistance from the manufacturer and original installers who were in Denver and more than 8 hours from our location. Therefore we had no choice but to seek out local expertise and just hoped he knew what he was doing. It turned out the problem was caused by a wire rubbing on a sharp metal object to which it was affixed as well as a transmission fluid leak due to a weak clamp. Both issues were caused by the installation, but each was simple to correct. Thank goodness we were in the major metropolis of Durango, CO, the largest town for many miles and not in the middle of nowhere (“nowhere” being a relative term). The mechanic was able to diagnose the problem expediently, check the rest of the systems for problems, and send us on our way. (Thanks, Scott!) A person with less knowledge could have caused more damage than good. We were fortunate to have found someone who had excellent training and experience. What a relief.

Small town specialists are a special breed. Either they tend to be very honest because they can’t afford to have their reputation tarnished by bad publicity, or they take advantage of travelers because they know we are just passing through, we are a captive audience, and we are unlikely to return if problems persist. So far, in our journeys we have been lucky to encounter only the first bunch of businesspeople. As a rule, I tend to expect people to be fair and honest, but we’ll see if that presumption changes as time passes and we move through different states. I hope I’m not proven wrong.

Many people think travelling in an RV is wonderful because you can pull over to the side of the road to make a sandwich when you get hungry or stop and take a nap when you get tired. These are all great perks of travelling with your home, but when you are ready to move, and cannot because of mechanical failure, suddenly staying in one place is not fun anymore. The need to move and travel to the next destination becomes a compulsion though with distractions in the home like movies and dishes you can attempt to curb the anxiety. When all systems are working perfectly I am content to stop and stay in one place for an indefinite number of days. However, now that I’m used to pulling up roots and relocating at my leisure restricting movement makes me feel more like a caged animal than a travelling explorer. I hope to avoid future breakdowns, but if there is one thing I’ve learned in the short time Rv’ing it is that things happen and they always break. We have to just accept it, fix them along the way or we will never get anywhere.

Rock Hounding

The age old hobby of rock hounding (ie. the art of collecting rocks) was recently introduced to me by a good friend. Adam and I had our first real adult experience rock hunting when she took us to a mine near Ft. Collins that was known to produce amethyst crystals. She showed us how to identify the crystals and we found them just lying on the ground. Though locating the crystals was not as easy as it sounds, it was a wonderful free activity spent outside on a beautiful day digging around in the dirt. This brought back nostalgic feelings of being a kid. I felt like a five year old swelling with pride that I found something pretty on the ground. What a wonderful feeling as an adult! As a kid I probably reveled in finding my favorite colored stone without realizing the value. Now I appreciate it differently. The only problem at this age was my lack of flexibility compared to when I was a kid. Crawling around in the dirt hunched over staring at the ground looking for shiny pointed stones took a toll on my back.

Amethyst Mine - Adam and Jennifer

Colorado is rich with various mineral deposits and known rock collecting sites. We recently purchased the Colorado rock hounding book which identifies sites (public and private) where different types of rocks form as well as fossils collecting locations. A site known as the easiest and most accessible place to collect geodes was not far from Pagosa Springs just up Wolf Creek Pass. We once again tested our nose for rock collecting. I don’t think it was the smartest move to stand on the shoulder of a highway without an orange jacket pounding a hammer and chisel into the bottom of a rock face of canyon type walls without wearing a helmet, but we kept our eyes open for cars and falling rocks. Those are two items I will look into acquiring for future expeditions. We did however come prepared with safety glasses, gloves a bucket and shovel to collect our findings. One thing I learned from collecting amethysts was the need for a container to store them. Pockets get filled up way too fast and some rocks are too big to fit. Besides, as an adult I can do without dirt in my pockets.

At the site we came across another individual hunting on the other side of the road. He stopped to talk with us and we learned that he was the former head of a gem and mineral club near Denver. He has been hunting for over 40 years and knew what he was doing, but was a bit disillusioned by closed sites and no trespassing signs of today. He passed along the knowledge he had about collecting geodes which we appreciated and we set off to collect. Locating them still often requires luck. The beauty of geodes is found inside a round volcanic rock. The problem is the crystals are hidden inside this rock so you have to break it open before knowing for sure whether you have found one or not. The book gave clues as to what color rock in which to start looking and the color of the outside of the geode. I actually found one just lying on the ground as if it had fallen out of the rock wall. A corner of the outer layer was chipped and exposed the awesome formation inside. The night before there was a heavy downpour of rain so that might have freed some stones. That was lucky! We were also able to identify some potential geodes embedded in the face of the rock wall. Chiseling those out was no easy task. I’ve now had a small glimpse of how miners in the early 1900’s felt using a pick axe and hammer to dig out tunnels for the gold mines. Tired!

Geodes from Wolf Creek Pass

In the end we came away with four good samples and are pretty proud of ourselves. None of the geodes are perfectly round, but each one is interesting. Now, we have to find a place to put our rock collection in the RV. Next, we plan to attempt to search for dragonfly fossils. We found one once in Beaver Creek that was selling for over $150,000. I’d like to find that one lying on the ground. It could happen. Rockhounders will tell you to keep your nose to the ground. You never know what you might find.

Sequoia Takes in a Show

Now that Sequoia is a certified service dog we continue to try and expose him to all kinds of situations. He’s building his stamina by carrying various weights in his packs and is more comfortable getting in and out of the car with his pack on. He’s experienced elevators, and has been to Walmart, Costco, and the movies. Ironically, the first preview he saw at his first film was the trailer to “Cats and Dogs” and he didn’t even let out a bark. He did however watch the screen. Shopping carts and action flicks are not his favorite because of the loud noises, but he usually adapts. Fitting between the movies seats is also tough for him but there is usually a good reward of popcorn on the floor.

Sequoia recently took in a live show in Creede, CO. Originally a mining town they now have a renowned theater which produces professional plays and musicals. After mining ceased in the early 1900’s (or maybe it was the 1970’s) the town intentionally cultivated the theater community to save it from extinction. We heard wonderful reviews of the theater and heard the golf course was one of the toughest mountain courses around (though I didn’t get to try it). Since it was only about two hours from the Sand Dunes we decided to explore it on a day trip. Arriving an hour before the show we spoke with the house manager to find out whether there were tickets which could accommodate us and our dog. Previously on the phone she had said that if he can fit in the rows at the movies, then he should be able to fit in front of our seats, but that proved not to be the case. We were able to purchase an aisle seat and Sequoia sat right next to us. There was only one problem; the cast entered and exited through that aisle, so I had to keep a close eye on him.

At the beginning of the show he settled down and lay right next to the seat. Once the show opened he watched just as he watches TV at home. I don’t think he knew quite what to make of it. I think he wondered why those people in front were talking and no one else was. I kept scooping his tail closer to his body to be sure it was not reaching too far into the walkway. He didn’t mind. By the end of the show, he was sprawled out on his side with his feet pointing into the aisle passed out asleep. I just hoped at the finale the cast would not take a running exit down this row and trip over him.

He survived the entire experience without being trampled or tripped over. Our fellow theater-goers all wanted to talk about him; what kind is he, their dogs could never sit still like that, he’s so good, oh how cute, etc. Once the theater emptied out and the lobby cleared, the cast came back in from the front doors where they had saluted the audience upon leaving. They all rushed over to him, surrounded to pet him, hugged and kissed him. I thanked them for not stepping on him the entire show and they all said they saw him from the start. We all knew he was the true star of that show. Maybe soon he should make a stage debut.

The Beauty of Silence

Everyday life is filled with so much noise and commotion between the traffic, radios, televisions and video games that it’s no wonder that the great outdoors seem so quiet. Today’s younger generation may think it is boring and if an item doesn’t have a motor or computer chip it must be antiquated. We’ve seen some kids along our journey; some run around the campgrounds on their bikes or scooters while others play with their remote controlled cars and hand-held video games. Parents are usually pretty conscientious about the fact that there are other people trying to enjoy the quiet site and generally keep their kids under supervision. When we visit the national parks we intentionally want to hear the silence and take in the scenery. Often we will leave the campground at sunrise or sunset because photographers know that the best light is at the beginning and end of the day. Wildlife is also abundant at these times. In the early morning or upon returning in the late evening we are usually the ones trying to keep quiet so as not to wake the other campers.

One morning we arose at 5am to reach and hike the Sand Dunes before sunrise. Adam wanted to reach the peaks for a particular photo shot. There were a few other people hiking the dunes who, because of the acoustics, we could hear speaking clearly even though their location was probably a mile from us. They looked like ants from our standpoint. As we sat waiting for the morning light and huddled together for warmth we looked for changes in the dunes shapes with any blowing wind and watched how their colors rotated with the changing light. Then we heard an echoing sound. It was the crackling of a motor. Someone dressed in motorcycle gear and a helmet rode towards the dunes on an ATV (all terrain vehicle). I had never seen anyone else riding one of these vehicles here and the noise was distracting. Trying to ignore him to return to our view was impossible. He was as addicting to watch as an action film. We could not take our eyes off of him because we wanted to find out what he was going to do next. He drove towards the dunes, climbed and descended some lower dunes and then took off to the south of us. The motor noise faded and we thought he was finished ruining our visual and auditory scenery. Was that thing even allowed in this park? I wondered.

The sun finally came up and the photo shoot began. Adam positioned himself facing North with the sun illuminating the mountains and dunes alike. The shots were gorgeous and the light magical. Reeeeeerrrrrr…putt putt putt…..reeeeeeeeeerrrrr! The sound of a giant weed whacker was back. It was the ATV heading our way. Still located towards the base of the dunes he was not in our immediate view, but the noise grew louder as he came closer. We could not believe that he was allowed to disrupt this peaceful site with his noise pollution! Isn’t anyone going to complain and do something about this annoyance? Where are the rangers when we need them? He continued on his trajectory towards us until he was out of site again behind a dune now directly ahead of us. We thought that he couldn’t be as insensitive as to drive up over a dune right in front of our view and ruin the pictures. He must be going around our area. No one is that oblivious to the goals others may have when visiting a park like this one. But, up the dune he came and headed right towards us. Maybe he thought he was being considerate by taking a wide tour around our location to circle back to his original path. Without a hint of wind his tracks were left imprinted in the sand in front of us permanently marring Adam’s shot. The sound faded and he was once again out of site and range. Unbelievable! There is a time and a place for ATV’s and it’s not in a National Park in my opinion; maybe they are ok in a national forest if they serve a useful purpose, but mainly they are noisy, smelly motorcycles on four wheels. I wouldn’t drive my car up the dunes, why should he be allowed to drive a bike?

As we gathered the gear and wrapped up the morning photos the noise and the annoyance returned. This time, three rangers headed towards him. Finally! Someone complained or he had been spotted and hopefully they were going to redirect his misguided notions that ATVs belong on the dunes. They corralled him and made him cut the motor and get off the bike. I still couldn’t tell his age even after he removed his helmet, but he looked older than a teenager and possibly an adult. The next thing we know he was pushing the four-wheeled vehicle manually from the spot in the sand and heading towards the parking lot. That was a long haul and a more than fair punishment for breaking the rules and the silence. Hopefully he was taught a good lesson. Silence is golden. You break it, you pay.

Sand Dunes

Great Sands National Park & Preserve is located next to the middle of nowhere and on the edge of somewhere. We camped at San Luis Lakes State Park which is actually the middle of nowhere and 10 miles from the dunes. The park ranger informed us that San Luis is the lowest part of the valley which was clearly under the sea at one time. It feels like you are standing in the middle of the desert. There is sand everywhere, cactus, and a few low bushes that hide tiny rodents and large jack rabbits. The lake that is still filled with water is only five feet deep now, but has “Swimmer's Itch” so swimming is not allowed. It is a national wildlife refuge for several species of migratory birds though I have only spotted a few different ones so far.

Actually located near Alamosa, CO, the sand dunes are here because of a phenomenon of the wind patterns that occur due to being surrounded by the mountains. It’s amazing to find dunes of sand located in Colorado backed up against forest-filled mountains. The contrast is shocking. People actually travel here to “ski” down the dunes. At a nearby campground just before entering the park you can rent sand boards that look like snow boards and can get up to speeds almost as fast as on snow. They are made out of a hard plastic and come with a stick of wax that you are supposed to use in between each “run” down the slope. Of course we didn’t discover this option until after we visited the dunes this morning, but I’ll keep it in mind for next time if I feel ambitious. To give you an idea it probably takes at least an hour to walk up to the top of the dunes. They can be compared to small mountains.

Just walking towards the dunes can be a hike. It’s like walking on a very dry, sandy beach. In the Fall there is a river running in front of the dunes which is shallow enough to walk through to cool off just before reaching them for a hike. At this time of year in August there is no water. Adam, Sequoia and I started on our journey at 6am in the morning. We wanted to take advantage of the best light for photographs and the coolest part of the day. Planning just to scout out the site for the best vantage shot we found several fabulous landscapes before we even entered the park. Surrounded by ranchland the fields were covered in yellow flowers that look like daisies with black centers. We think they were Black-Eyed Susans which, ironically, is the Maryland state flower. Because of the location of the sun the shadows showed us every footprint and well defined the dune peaks. It was beautiful.

Though we weren’t really supposed to let him off the leash, there was too large an expanse and so few people around not to let Sequoia run. We ended up watching him tear it up in the sand. He used to do figure eights in our old backyard and he did the same thing here on a much larger scale. I think he thought it was like snow because he kept trying to dig and eat the sand. He was happy once I gave him water and by then it was only 7am. I don’t recommend bringing dogs on a hike up the dunes. The sand gets very hot once the day warms up.

If you find yourself in either the Pueblo or in the other direction, the Durango area, you are actually only a few hours away from this unique park. It’s calm, serene, and interesting to discover the oxymoron of sand dunes resting against the Colorado mountain ranges. Sometimes it’s nice to go to the middle of nowhere and hear the silence, listen to yourself think, and while you are at it, maybe take in a sand slope or two. 

my view of Adam taking pictures

The Fruit Stand Lady

Have you ever driven a road in farm country road where there is not a car in sight and come upon a produce stand by the side of the road? They usually have the best produce because it generally comes straight off the farm. Driving into town the other day we spotted the largest watermelons we have ever seen at a roadside fruit stand. Adam is a connoisseur of watermelon, so we had to stop. The salesperson told us they had sold an 80 lb watermelon just that morning. We weren’t looking for something quite that big, but we knew there was something special about them.


The lady running the stand called herself Blondie and she was a character. She was a heavy-set, dirty blond chatterbox from Texas. In the first five minutes after talking to her we knew that her fruit came from Texas, she ran this stand in the summer and a landscaping business in the winter. Her gait was slow and she didn’t seem in the best health, so I really couldn’t imagine her working as a landscaper hauling large trees, planting flowers, or laying down grass. Though, she was probably a great foreman. She spoke in poor English, both loudly and quickly, and would turn any subject discussed into an entertaining story about herself or someone in her family. We know that she has nine kids, eleven or so grandchildren, likes malts, and doesn’t sleep much because she’s so busy (chatting at the fruit stand I think). I didn’t catch half of what she said because of her accent and the speed with which she spoke.

When we asked her how the inflated watermelons tasted, she gave us what I call a “Southern answer”; it was a metaphor. She likened them to the Lexus of watermelons and said the rest of her fruit were Toyotas. We didn’t understand exactly how that translated into taste, but decided to take her word for it and buy one anyway. She also introduced us to yellow and orange watermelons that were just as sweet as the red ones. I recommend trying one if you get the chance.

Before we could leave with our monstrous fruit Blondie started chatting with Adam. She bluntly asked him about his medical condition. He volunteered some information which then turned into a very long conversation. We learned you can’t shop at this stand if you don’t have an extra hour on your hands. She seemed genuinely interested in learning about his issues. Sometimes she would interject her own medical knowledge passed down from her great-granny who was a nurse. This information came from a woman who thought the cure for a snake bite was putting salt pork on the wound (which didn’t work by the way and landed her daughter in the ER). She took quite a liking to us, though it was probably because we stood around and listened to her.

She was sweet, but the rest of her crew was unbelievably rude. Not rude with mal intent, but they had no manners! They personified people who would answer “yes” to the question “did you grow up in a barn?” I think they did. Their hair was unkempt, their clothes dirty, and all of them smoked like chimneys. Her kids, who were at least in their 20s and old enough to know better, would yell her name from one side of the stand to the other like a three year old would repeat her mother’s name just to get attention. Their strong need to ask unimportant questions was inexcusable, or maybe they just wanted attention like a little child. If the question pertained to customer service, then I might have halfway understood their need for an immediate response, but it was totally unrelated. Another child (or hired hand and more like a man) interrupted our conversation by blatantly speaking over us. He didn’t even preface the sentence with “excuse me.” I was shocked. But, I guess that’s how you learn to have your voice heard in a barnyard full of animals.

Even with her rude crew, Blondie’s gift of gab gave the fruit stand a certain flavor. It was like she welcomed you right into her home and she hid nothing behind closed doors. She took an interest in her customers, remembered them when they returned, and ultimately entertained the entire stand with her stories. She made the business memorable just by being her. Oh, and the watermelon was pretty good too.

Foreign Doctors

When you are on vacation the last thing you want to have to do is take your kid to the doctor. If it’s something minor like a runny nose, then you might wait and see whether they seem to get better or worse before you research who to go see. If they do get worse it is bound to be at the most inopportune time. Sequoia is my furry kid and he pulled this stunt on me. He’s been scratching his ears for a few weeks and has had a drippy nose, but he’s a dog, they scratch and their noses are always wet. I figured it was not worth worrying. He’s got long, floppy, furry ears that can be prone to ear infections, but they did not look red. So, I’ve been watching it. At 6am the other morning he scratched and let out a high-pitched yelp! I jumped out of bed to find one of his ears bleeding. That was my cue. I had to find a local vet; the dreaded foreign doctor.


Dogs, like kids, get anxious about going to the doctor and especially one they do not know. I used to have a dog that would cower under the chairs in the Vet’s office. I didn’t know how Sequoia was going to react. We were still in Pagosa Springs, the land of large animal doctors who mainly care for horses, cows, and buffalo, so I looked for an established veterinary clinic that would see small animals. Like most parents with intuition I knew this was probably an ear infection, but I couldn’t diagnose it myself. I needed someone to get down there with a scope and tell me what they see before treating him with the medicine I have left from the last bout of infection. We were supposed to be heading out of town that same morning…bad timing as predicted.

I called first thing and got the earliest appointment available. Sequoia was a champion! The vet technician came over to weigh him and he just wanted to jump on her instead of the scale. Once we got into the room he let the vet poke and prod those ears without a flinch. The vet couldn’t believe how he kept still. The only nerves I saw were from the fact that he was lifted into the air and put on a high table. I praise our vet from home who was wonderful with him since he was a puppy. Keeping the experience positive is the key. She gave him a treat after his exam or shot. A woman with treats; what could be better for a dog? A pinch here and there is worth it if there are treats in the end! This vet didn’t have treats, but he was a big dog about it and didn’t sulk.

After a clean bill of health and no infection to be found he was diagnosed with seasonal allergies. As suspected, it was really nothing to worry about and nothing a little Benadryl can’t cure. That’s a relief. All the time we spent worrying that Adam was going to be allergic to the dog, and we got a dog who has allergies! Hope he’s not allergic to Adam. How’s that for irony?

Lone Cowboy

There’s no one better to lead a horseback ride than a cowboy. We pulled up to his red barn and saddle/hat shop with the stables nearby and a pick-up truck parked in front. Music that sounded like it was from an old western film blared from hidden outdoor speakers. He sported his Wrangler jeans and cowboy hat, spoke with a true southern drawl and had a dog named Rosco (pronounced Roscoo). He plopped cowboy hats on our heads and horses under our butts. Now, we were cowboys too. Wait…pose for the picture. Okay, so it was a little hokey, but he was the real deal.

Originally from Texas, he seemed kind-hearted and soft spoken and took an immediate interest in Adam and his health. He was interested in natural remedies and didn’t believe in modern pharmaceuticals. I gathered he thought they were for the weak. He was strong. At 65 years old working these horses didn’t seem to be difficult for him at all. Hard work seemed to come to him naturally. We learned that he built his own home across the street from the barn, though the barn still appeared to be his home, work and play area. Riding a horse was effortless for him. He broke almost all his horses himself. Now that takes a strong person to survive the bucking of an unbroken horse. We should all be as hard a worker as this cowboy. [On a side note, did you know you can buy a mustang in Canon City for $125? It is almost worth it if you weren’t going to get your neck broken yourself teaching that horse to allow people to ride him. The cowboy said they are on the small side but are sturdy horses. You don’t have to shoe them because they already have tough feet. Species so systematically adapt to their surroundings. Course, if you didn’t want to break the horse yourself, then you could always buy one that a prisoner has broken for you.]

We continued our ride up the mountain and down the gullies yelling “yah” to our horses to get them to “lope.” In Cowboy’s vocabulary “lope” was another word for canter. I would have guessed it was derived from gallop, but he said it was actually slower than a run/gallop. He inquired some more about Adam’s health, complimented him on having a good spirit, and was impressed that Adam wanted to get out and see the country instead of “staying drunk all the time” as he knew many others would have done in his situation. I don’t think that idea even crossed Adam’s mind.

We came to know about his outfit from a woman we met at the hot springs. She was an attractive, single mother of three travelling with her disabled daughter. Once the cowboy learned her marital status he told us he set her up on a dinner date with a “wealthy cowboy” down the way. I thought how sweet and endearing he was to think about her happiness and try to connect her with a gentleman! I guessed he himself did not have a lot of money because he made another comment during our ride that his wife cleans houses for some “rich folk.” He also revealed he had previously come upon hard times and had to sell the home he built. Now, he lives in his barn looking at his house across the street. That must be heartbreaking to have to look at his sweat equity each day. Though the cowboy did not seem bitter, but rather he appeared content with his life.

He could also appreciate our RV experience because he and his wife used to travel by RV to the nearby Indian reservations selling saddles and trading for horses. I had no idea that way of business was still going on in the Native American culture. As I looked closely at the barn I noticed he had camouflaged his trailer and RV behind panels and now cleverly used them as part storage and part home addition. To the outside world he was still the authentic cowboy with a big red barn. His home kept up the outward appearance of the true rustic lifestyle with the internal look of a log cabin that was recently modernized. Again, as I looked more closely I noticed he had all the comforts of home. It was just covered by the rustic exterior. It appeared as if he had recently installed electricity with only a single light bulb on one wall. He told us he keeps up on current events by listening to talk shows and is a self-proclaimed Republican. I assumed this was on the radio, but then I noticed a large TV and VCR in the corner and a computer on a desk hidden behind a couch. He even had a dishwasher and a refrigerator but it looked like an old ice chest. He was a real modern-day cowboy: horse-trading, RV driving, trail-ride leading, matchmaking, current event following, computerized cowboy.

I took from this man’s story that even though someone’s life may not always be initially accurately portrayed, it can still be a good life. The cowboy exuded a horse-whisperer calm demeanor even after experiencing life’s pitfalls. He continued to show genuine kindness to others and to his animals, but more importantly he seemed happy. Our challenges come in different forms, and we consciously try to appreciate each and every day not in spite of these challenges, but because of them. We were fortunate to have been able to sustain a two-hour horse ride when there are days that it is not even a possible for Adam to sit upright in a chair. So, for that I am grateful. The scenery was gorgeous, the air smelled fresh with pine tree scent, and I was reminded how perseverant and resilient my husband is by a man whose stamina could outlast us both. I thought I was just going out for a leisurely horseback ride but instead I was reminded how life is difficult for many people, but what matters most is how you live it.