Category: Fun

The title of my blog, Easin’ Along, does not accurately depict the first week of this journey. Our two-trailer convoy blitzed across Kentucky, Missouri, Nebraska, and eastern South Dakota in a series of one-night stands until we reached Hermosa, SD, a short distance from Mt. Rushmore. We endured some temperatures that bordered 100 degrees and spent a lot of late afternoons inside our trailers. Thankfully, when we paused for a three-night visit in the Black Hills, the temperatures plunged, and we thrived on 70ish weather during the day and low 50’s at night.

With two full days to rest, stretch our legs and let our granddaughters run off some pent-up energy, we decided to visit Mt. Rushmore and Custer State Park. Rushmore, just a few miles away from our campsite in Hermosa, came first. After packing a picnic lunch, we were off.

Initially, I worried about crowds and maintaining proper social distance measures. Still, with no tour busses or international travelers, the crowd size at Mt. Rushmore was not significant, and everyone there was just as concerned about their safety as we were about ours.  I felt comfortable.

I have seen pictures of Mt. Rushmore all of my life but had no perspective of the size of the carvings.  The faces are massive, and I cannot imagine the skill or the effort required to produce a monument of this size and scope.  We attended a lecture by a Park Ranger on the creation of the memorial, carved by sculptor Gutzon Borglum beginning in 1927 and completed in 1941. The Rangers presentation was excellent; even my eight-year-old granddaughter soaked up every word.

 

After Mt. Rushmore, we drove a short distance to Custer State Park to enjoy a picnic lunch before taking a one-mile stroll around Sylvan Lake. The cool temperatures and the scenic lake enhanced the pleasure of our walk, and the girls ate it up.

Although it was not part of our plans for this day, we decided to visit the Crazy Horse Memorial before returning to the campground. We opted to stay in the Visitor Center rather than take a bus to the sculpture. Instead, we watched a movie about this enormous, unfinished project that will require decades to complete. I wish them well.

At that point, Helen and I called it a day and returned to Lucy.  Collin and the girls drove through the wildlife loop at Custer State Park and received an escort of three Bison. During the excursion, they came upon a small herd of wild burros and walked over to them.  Collin captured this picture of the encounter.  Her expression is priceless.

Badlands National Park was our destination for day two. I hate to admit it, but I never realized that the Badlands was a National Park. I thought it was a desolate part of the country that was uninhabitable–that’s it. It probably is uninhabitable, but the beauty is stunning in its own right. Thankfully, our government had the foresight to create a National Park here.

Once again, the small number of visitors allowed us to roam at will without being overly concerned about social distance measures.  We took a hike along a marked trail to a canyon about a mile from the starting point. Cool temperatures kept the Badlands from being bad, and it felt great to get some exercise.

We made one stop on our way back to the campground to photograph a nursery band of ewes and lambs, Big Horn sheep separated from the rams in the herd, while the lambs bond with their mothers. They were perched on a narrow ridge overlooking a prairie. The peak was far enough from the side of the road to stretch my camera lens to the limit, but you can see that the sheep were large and probably sleeping off lunch.

On Saturday morning, our convoy companions would leave us and drive on to Jackson Hole to join my daughter-in-law’s family. Before they left, Collin was up early to try his luck at fishing the North Platte River beside the campground. I joined him to take some pictures. The fish were safe on this day, but the scenery was gorgeous.

 

Before they left, we took a picture in our traveling T-shirts, passed hugs all around, and sent them on their way.  Helen and I will join them in a week. Week one was now in the books. From this point forward, we will slow down and go from blitzing across the country and return to a pace more to our liking…just Easin’ Along. See you on the trail.

(Note: Click on any picture in this post to begin a slide show of all pictures enlarged)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’ve been away for a while, but don’t pay the ransom–we’ve escaped! Actually, we spent the previous two weeks preparing for our trip to the northwest and the Canadian Rockies and loading our trailers. Yes, I said trailers. Readers may remember that we won an RV last fall in a local radio contest. We planned to tow Smoky (our name for the trailer) to California in March and give it to our oldest son and his family until COVID-19 shutdown derailed those plans but, we found a better one.

Shortly after canceling that trip, Collin, our son, who lives in South Carolina, called with a great idea. He and his family planned to spend three weeks in Jackson, Wyoming, beginning in late June with his wife’s family. They planned to drive instead of fly (can’t fault them) and offered to tow Smoky to Jackson and have Justin (California son) meet him there and tow Smoky back to California.

Helen and I have worked on our trip to the northwest for almost a year. Our original departure date was in late June but, after Collin made his proposal, we moved the date up by about ten days, added a few reservations, canceled others, and now had a brand new adventure that included our granddaughters. As the saying goes, “good things happen to those who wait.”

Of course, there is a plot shift to the story…

We have advertised Smoky for sale since late November. Although Smoky is a charming trailer, the floorplan only accommodated three people comfortably. We needed a trailer with bunk beds instead of one twin bed (in addition to a queen). We advertised Smoky for sale last November and had only token interest until two weeks ago when we began receiving some serious inquiries. Due to the pandemic, the public has decided that RV’s are the safest means of travel–and now in high demand. I scheduled three appointments on a Sunday afternoon to show Smoky to inquirers. The first couple that came by bought Smoky with no haggling. The person expected to arrive next called while I was closing the deal and upped the offer by a significant amount, but I turned him down. Smoky now belonged to Arnold and Tammy.

Now, we had to get everything we planned to take to Jackson Hole out of Smoky and find another RV as demand for them was increasing by the day. I won’t detail the search process, but a miracle happened, and we found a 2020 bunkhouse model at the last minute. After camping a few times, times the previous owners decided they needed something that better suited their needs and purchased a larger RV. I snapped it up quickly, brought it home, and Helen and I spent two days cleaning and loading it for the trip. Our granddaughter in California gave our new trailer the name Heidi. After prepping Heidi, we spent an additional two days doing the same for Lucy, our fifth-wheel.

Collin and family arrived last Friday, and we took off on Saturday morning on a journey that will keep us moving until late September. I have posted a rough map of our trip below. As I write this, we are at our third stop in Nebraska City, Nebraska following stops in Paducah, KY and Columbia, MO. The temperature here hovers above 90 degrees, but we’re having a ball. If all goes to plan, we will spend three days in the Badlands and Mount Rushmore on the day this post is published. 

I hope you will join us as we travel. We wish everyone a safe summer.  Stay smart, keep your distance, and we’ll get through this mess soon. Until then, we’re just Easin’ Along.

Last week, I told readers about my Covid-19 project of converting all of our slides to digital files.  I completed the project (applause here) and uncovered a few jewels among the images. I want to focus on a few of those this week. In order to post something timely, I will share some pictures of the pets that have been a part of our household through the years. My apologies for the grainy pictures–I was going for subject matter over quality.

Conveniently, last Sunday was National Pet Parents Day, something I learned by reading Terri Webster Schrandt’s blog, Second Wind Leisure Perspectives.  After converting my pet pictures, I decided to share them in Terri’s Sunday Stills Challenge.  Once readers complete this week’s Easin’ Along, I encourage everyone to use this link to visit Terri’s very well-written and very entertaining website.

First, I should let everyone know that Helen and I are no longer pet parents. At the time we downsized, we had two dogs and one cat in our household that you will meet in a few paragraphs.  The dogs were primarily outside pets and had complete freedom to roam the eleven acres we owned at the time. We had not yet retired when we moved into our neighborhood, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of keeping them cooped up in a garage. We found good homes for them on a large farm where they could continue to roam at will. The cat, no longer with us, was perfectly content to watch over the new house.

I miss having a pet around, but pets are not a perfect fit for us and our RV lifestyle of moving around every few days.  Nevertheless, as soon as we change our pace and remain in destinations for more extended periods, I’m eager to “re-dog.” First, I have to convince Helen it’s a good idea.

Now…back to the pictures.

Our first pet was a Long-Haired Dachshund that we named Bruno.  We lived in Wurzburg, Germany at the time, and some friends told us about a breeder, living out in the Bavarian countryside, who raised champions of the breed.  Helen had grown up with dachshunds and wanted one badly.  We visited the breeder, and it was love at first sight. The picture above is the moment we met.

Sadly, Bruno was killed by a car about a year and a half later.  We were devastated and immediately adopted another dachshund we named Hansi.  He was not as even-tempered as Bruno and not at all good with children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our second dog was a beautiful Golden Retriever we adopted when she was about a year old. Maggie was sweet, unbelievably good with young children, and loved Helen.  Maggie gave birth to two litters.  We kept the pick of the second litter, a male named Grits.

The only picture I can find of Grits is this one. I don’t know which one he is, but he’s in there somewhere. Grits was a very handsome dog, with slightly more reddish coloring than Maggie. Both only lived to be about seven years old, and both died from pancreas failure.  I suppose it was a genetic thing.

After the Retrievers, we had a cat named Percy (no picture), who went to live with my Mom, a cat lover.

Next was a tiny teacup Poodle we named Pogo. He never weighed more than four pounds, probably because he expended so much energy barking at me…constantly.  Pogo was Helen’s dog exclusively, and he was very protective.  Pogo lived with us for fourteen very…long…years.

About the time we moved into our lake home, Buddy, one of the masons on my brick crew, told me he was feeding about fifty cats in the trailer park where he lived. I said to Buddy that if he had an orange and white one (Tennessee colors) that might grow into a big cat, I would lighten his feed load by one cat.  The next Sunday, Helen and I came home from church to find a pet crate with one orange and white cat inside. A note, taped to the container, said, “My name is Tom, and I’m yours!”

Tom, renamed Wilbur, moved in…slowly. Wilbur weighed somewhere around ten pounds, had mange and something dreadful oozing from his nose. He needed neutering. Wilbur had six toes on his front paws so, after a $400 vet bill, I instructed Wilbur to rid our newly built home of all the mice that moved in during construction. It took him one day to find the first rodent. It was my turn to fall in love.

Wilbur soon ballooned up to twenty-six pounds and became a delightful, people-loving pet. He followed me around like a love-sick puppy dog. Wilbur lived with us for seventeen years.  I cried when he crossed the rainbow bridge, and I miss him every day.

Soon after Wilbur arrived, we adopted Chuck, an Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix that could run like the wind and loved exploring our property.  Chuck had a lovely disposition and would chase a ball for as long as I would throw it to him.

Almost simultaneously with Chuck’s arrival, we rescued Max, a Shih Tzu, and Bootsie, a petite Calico cat.  I was building a house in a rural area and learned from a nearby property owner that both animals recently appeared on the scene, probably abandoned. Bootsie was a skittish, sickly little thing, and did not live long.

Max was more than likely severely abused.  He would not let anyone put their hands near his face, or they would pay.  Our vet would sedate Max to shave him and we let him live with Chuck outdoors. They were constant companions and got along splendidly.  I said that Max was probably the world’s only outdoor Shih Tzu. Max was a voracious eater. I feel confident that he had faced long periods without food and, every time I placed a food bowl in front of him, I could see the gratitude in his eyes.

Thanks to Terri, I had the opportunity to spend some with our pets again, if only digitally. So glad I got to introduce them to you. I dearly miss every one of these creatures…including Pogo. 

With blurry eyes, it’s time I was Easin’ Along.