Piloting the V8 Prairie Schooner

After many fits and starts, the Slow Lane is headed back west.  While we have been west, then east, then west, then east, we are now really headed west for the rest of the journey.  To kick off the final phase (maybe) of the journey, we loaded up Sasquatch, our V8 Prairie Schooner and headed out across the Great Plains.  While we have previously crisscrossed both North Dakota and South Dakota, we had not made the journey across Nebraska, the gateway to the west, the manifest destiny superhighway.

In my past as a student at the University of Colorado, I had crossed Nebraska more times than I care to count.  In the early days, it was at least twice a year, as I stormed across the state in the middle of the night, headed home to Minnesota for Christmas, Spring Break, Summer Vacation, or other school season hiatuses. One year, in a fit of lunacy, I actually drove to Minnesota for the weekend, a feat I do not long to repeat.

 In fact, I can still tell you roughly where I am in Nebraska, just by looking at the scenery along I-80.  This is surprising to me, given the relative lack of scenery by mountain living standards, but goes to show that the subtle geography of place still exists in our ever developing world.  I always remember the feedlot west of North Platte, the hill country between Omaha and Lincoln, and the flat prairies between Grand Island and Kearny that roll past as the lush green of the midwest slowly morphs into the faded brown of the late summer west. This time, I only realized post haste that the Maranantha sign and white cross that used to adorn the roadside in central Nebraska is no longer there.  Or maybe it is and I just didn’t notice as the road blur lulled me into near oblivion.

When I was younger, Nebraska was to be crossed as quickly as possible.  Especially once I started long distance dating my then future wife, who still resided in Minnesota ( a fact I couldn’t fully comprehend at the time).  Today, with a child, a dog, and slower pace, we actually take a bit of time across Nebraska.  And while it isn’t a world tourist destination by most people’s accounts, there are some interesting sights to see, both kitschy and otherwise.  You could opt for the world’s largest ball of stamps, the Kool Aid museum, or Carhenge (yes, a Stonehenge of cars) if you so choose, but you can also get a sense of what it was like for the pioneers who traversed Nebraska on the Oregon Trail, the Mormon Trail, the Pony Express route; American pioneers in search of wealth, opportunity, and religious freedom.  For example, in Gothenburg, NE, you can see a sod house preserved from the 1800s and truly appreciate how hard frontier living was.

One way to experience a bit of Nebraska’s travel history is offered up in an unusual package.  As you drive down I-80 near Kearny, you will see a bizarre, giant highway overpass called the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument.  For those if you who have traveled across Illinois (God help you), the Archway Monument looks like one of those crazy highway rest stops built over the interstate, but it’s a museum, not a Starbucks, McDonald’s, and Cinnabun all rolled into one blood pressure and cholesterol increasing gas station.

As we have passed the Archway over the years we have always said: “we should stop at that place someday.”  Well, as one of Maggie’s favorite books so eloquently reminds us, “someday is not a day of the week.”  So, in a nod to the spirit of the Slow Lane, we gave this particular someday a permanent place on our calendar and stopped.  It was well worth it.  Through a series of exhibits, video clips, and an audio tour, this little museum takes you on a guided journey of the history of travel across Nebraska, starting with the pioneers and leading right up to the construction of the Interstate Highway System.  The museum - which sits very near the original site of Ft. Kearny, a way station for weary travelers of days gone by - is incredibly well done.  Maggie particularly enjoyed the authentic replica of a 60s diner, which is perched high above the cars speeding by on the highway below.

Over my many years of taking driving trips around the country, I can’t tell you how many times I have driven by something, only to offer up the almost reflexive: “we should stop and check that place out sometime.”  If you have experienced something similar, the best advice I can give you is this: STOP.  These little diversions are almost always short, interesting, and memorable.  They will stick with you.  You will laugh about them later.  You WILL remember them, no matter how silly.  As we continue to learn time and again on this trip, the journey is the destination.

A Family Tradition

In my family, like all families, we have a few holiday traditions.  Growing up, we had ham on Christmas Eve and Turkey on Christmas Day.  We would cut our own tree.  We would open presents on Christmas Eve.

You may be wondering why I am writing about holiday traditions in August.  The answer is because yesterday our family engaged in our most sacred, long running, and important (at least from my mother's point of view), family tradition.  We took the family Christmas picture.

For as long as I can remember, there was a family Christmas picture.  Back in the early days, this was a relatively simple affair involving my sister and me and our dogs.  It was over and done with pretty quick and you didn't complain because you were reminded that Santa would remember if you did.  Clearly, you weren't gonna roll the dice on that one.

Over the years, as husbands, wives, grandchildren, dogs, cats and fish have been added to the family capturing the family photo has become more complex.  Add in the fact that my parents are in Boulder, CO; my sister, her husband, and their 4 children are in Delano, MN; and Lisa, Maggie and I are often hanging out with Dick Cheney in "undisclosed" locations across the country and taking the family photo becomes a logistical nightmare requiring the quartermaster general skills of Major General Nathanael Greene. 

That nightmare used to be compounded by the fact that it was not enough to just show up.  No, no, no.  This photo had to be coordinated.  Khaki pants this year.  Red shirts that year.  Hula skirts the next year and lederhosen after that.  That's 6 adults, 5 kids, 4 dogs, 1 cat, and several fish (okay we don't really put the fish in the picture).  Now try to get them all dressed, cleaned, hair combed, and happy into a line.  Then try to keep them from diving onto the ground after the dogs run away for the fifth time while the photographer (usually some poor, unexpecting neighbor or friend who has been suckered into the task) struggles to compose.  Oh, and I forgot to remind you, you BETTER HAVE A GOOD ATTITUDE TOO!!!

While the family photo is still a REQUIRED tradition, the standards have fortunately been relaxed a wee bit.  Grandma doesn't require coordinated outfits anymore.  Pets are mercifully excused. But, you still better show up and you still better not complain . . . well too much.  Actually, we all complain.  In fact, we whine like babies.  That has become, as much a part of the tradition.  We march around the house ordering people out to the picture location.  We call grandma the general.  We groan, we moan, we make a big old stink out of it.  It is just part of the fun.  To make up for our whining, my mom now seeks to take advantage of every opportunity to take a family portrait.  This may be a bit of secret punishment for our complaining.  In fact, last nights picture was the 14th family photo we have taken this year.  She justifies this by saying things like: "well, Maggie was three months younger when we took the last picture, see how much she's grown?"  Or, "that last picture was just for me, this one is the ACTUAL Christmas picture."

So last night, we all lined up in t-shirts, shorts, flip flops, and bad hair to get the quarterly Christmas card picture taken.  And you know what?  It was actually, despite the required moaning and complaining, relatively painless.  We can thank digital photography for that. Grandma can see right away whether she has gotten what she wants.  In the old days, you burned through 13 rolls of film, just to be sure.

The last thing you need to know about the family picture is this.  It is classified.  Top secret stuff that is "eyes only" for Nana, right up until the cards go in the mail.  It doesn't matter if you are blood, you won't know if you have buggers hanging out of your nose until that baby arrives in you mailbox (and the mailboxes of the other 237 people who get a card.)

The great thing about long running traditions is you can add new twists to them to spice things up and keep it fresh.  This year, I decided to add a new component to the tradition.  I have decided to start to try to steal the picture before it goes to press and leak the photo (anonymously of course), to certain well respected press outlets.  In the first year of adding in this tradition, I am happy to report that I have succeeded.  I have successfully "obtained" the family Christmas picture from unnamed sources.

So, without further ado, I bring you the family Christmas picture in all of it's unvarnished glory.  No "Peace on Earth," no "Happy Holidays" or garland boarders to soften the glare . . . 

No, obviously that is not the family picture (at least as far as you know), that is just a picture of a cool caterpillar.  Did you seriously think I would show it?  No way.  I am not nearly that brave.  Because while the picture is a serious tradition, so is food, drink, and presents at Christmas time and I don't dare jeopardize that.

Oh to be 3 (. . . going on 4)

The life of a three (almost 4) year old is filled with wonder, awe . . . and teenage angst? There are days when it seems Maggie is 3 going on 13. One minute she is laughing and having fun, the next she is crying with her lower lip out so far she might actually trip on it, all while yelling at me that she will never speak to me again. It is a constant job to keep her busy but not too busy. Boredom and over-stimulation lead to equally large meltdowns.

After a few weeks of fun with her cousins, Maggie, Zoe and I went to the lake for a visit with Grandma and Grandpa on Lake Hubert. Maggie usually enjoyes reveling in the one on one attention she receives at the lake, but this time she really missed the constant activity of her cousins and their neighborhood. The first full day here we got out all of Maggie's toys including her tea set, dolls, bean bag toss game, books and puzzles. Grandpa made the driveway safe to ride her tricycle and scooter. He also readied his boat for a ride around the lake. We pumped up the tires on Grandma's bike and the trailer so I could ride it to Nisswa a few miles away. After peddling my way, trailering Maggie, to Nisswa, playing tea party, reading and puzzling with Maggie and joining her on a boat ride, I decided I wanted to sit and check my e-mail. 

Grandma and Grandpa had played a ton with her and needed a break as well. Maggie did not like this idea at all. After I told her for the 3rd time that I didn't want to play dolls, she looked at me, rolled her eyes, threw head head back and indignantly cried - YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED WITH ME ALL DAY!  As she stomped her foot, crossed her arms in front of her, and pouted, I thought to myself, boy she needs a friend to play with today. What I said to her was "HUH????" and  proceeded to review the day with Maggie, pointing out all the things we did together. I also glanced at the clock to see if it cocktail hour and/or bed time yet. Unfortunately, Nope. What are we going to do???

Enter Lilia. A few cabins down from my parents place their friends, the Holbrooks, reside. Jay, Maggie and I have spent some wonderful evening chatting with John and Mary Holbrook. Often, those conversations revolve around Lilia, their grand-daughter who lives in Germany. She and Maggie are a lot alike. They are both almost 4. They both talk like 8 or 9 year olds. They both keep all adults on their toes. We always finish the conversation saying one of these days we'll have to get the girls together.

Fortunately, on this trip, we are all at the lake at the same time. The very next morning, (yes I made it through the night, after swimming in the lake with Maggie and Zoe, and then somehow making it to her bed time) we called the Holbrooks to see when Lilia could play. Thankfully, she needed some playtime too. Though still jet lagged, Lilia came over for a few hours of playtime with Maggie. The girls ran through thousands of bubbles generated by the Gazillion Bubble Machine (one of the best inventions around, in my opinion). Then they worked on puzzles and played with the kitchen set. 

Then we really got into it and made M&M cookies. The girls helped put the ingredients in the bowl and then, after I scooped the dough onto the cookie sheets, the girls added "the right" amount of M&Ms on each cookie. 

Once we cleaned up the kitchen, it was time to head back outside for another round of bubble dancing. This time the girls wanted to use the sand toys to scoop and pour water while I made Oobleck (a science experiment from my teaching days). By the time Lilia went home, both girls

 were worn out! 

The girls decided a few days later that they would like to play together again. This time we went to Lilia's house. There, the girls hunted for toads in the window wells, caught fish in the lake and watched them swim around in a washtub. They made large Lego compounds, played with puzzles and chased each other around the house. Much time was spent keeping toys away from Johanna, Lilia's younger sister, but it was all part of the fun. Then Lilia's dad, who is a chemist, made Glup which is like Silly Putty. After all that activity, the girls began to feel a little grumpy and we decided it was time for lunch. Both girls wanted Macaroni and Cheese - not surprisingly. Fortified for the afternoon the girls decided to try their hand at Turtle Racing in Nisswa. 

                                

While neither of the girls won their heat, both had a blast. They cheered their turtles on like champions and consoled each other over a large chocolate ice cream cones.  

If it weren't for Lilia and her family, I might have lost more of my mind. Not only did I walk away, both days, with a tired and mostly sated girl, but I also got to chat (albeit with many interruptions) with Jill and Thorsten, Lilia's parents. It was great getting to know them and their daughters. Hopefully we can coordinate our vacations to lake in the future and spend more time keeping the pouty lips at bay. 

A Tall Tale and Oxen a Plenty

Since 1910 the legend of Paul Bunyan has delighted children of all ages. I can remember listening to stories about the giant lumberjack and his faithful companion Babe the Blue Ox as I was growing up. While there are some arguments as to the true birthplace of Paul, I know of nowhere else that has as many statues and references to the giant as the Brainerd Lakes area does. As we travel around in the north woods of Minnesota there are constant reminders of this legend. In Pine River there are a pair of Paul's baby booties, which you can stand in, as well as a pair of his boots which you can lace. 

In Akeley, MN they claim to have his razor and several other things that belonged to him. And as recent as a few years back, Paul Bunyan Land, a theme park devoted to Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox was located right in the heart of Brainerd. MN. (In recent years Paul, Babe and the park were moved a few miles away to make room for "progress" in the form of Kohls department store.) Paul still talks when you visit him and he even knows your name. This delighted Maggie to no end! 

There are many shops and restaurants in the area that refer to the Bunyan Legend, including our favorite, the Chocolate Ox ice cream parlor in Nisswa. Most restaurants refer to the different size cuts of beef as Paul, Babe or Paulina (Paul's girlfriend). Don't get the Paul cut unless you are REALLY hungry!  The rails to trails program in the Brainerd Lakes Area converted to old railroad tracks into a walking and biking path that runs 100 miles from Brainerd, MN to Bemidji, MN. The path is named the Paul Bunyan Trail. In Bemidji, the trail leads to Bemidji State Park and from there you can connect to the Blue Ox trail as well as the Heartland trail. 

Today we spent time in Pequot Lakes. It may be best known around these parts for it's water tower which is shaped and painted to look like a fishing bobber. Wouldn't you know it, but the bobber is said to have gotten caught on a construction tower there when Paul was fishing in a nearby Whitefish lake. He fought Notorious Nate the 40 foot Northern Pike, but Nate got the better of Paul's hook and broke Paul's line. The line with the bobber went flying back and caught on the tower, where it still sits today.  Now, in addition to the bobber, there is a new attraction that sits just below the tower. It is a giant chair and a statue of Babe. Maggie has a new fascination in the Paul Bunyan Legends as of late, and sitting in this chair amazed her. To read the legend of Paul Bunyan check out this website.  http://www.paulbunyantrail.com/talltale.html

As I mentioned in front of Paul's large chair was a very fancy Babe statue. As I gazed upon the statue I realized that it reminded me of similar statues I had seen on our travels. As we have traveled the country we have noticed that there is a public art initiative involving animal statues. They are beautifully painted and catch your eye as you drive through an area. It is amazing to see how many different ways there are to paint the same statue. We have seen bears in Cherokee, NC near the Great Smoky Mountains, buffaloes in Buffalo, MN and now oxen in the north woods of MN. There are also horses in Billings, MT, Grizzly Bears in Missoula, MT, buffalo in West Yellowstone and winged horses in Kitty Hawk, NC. Many of these brightly decorated animals will be displayed for the summer and then put up for auction in the fall, with the proceeds going to local charities. You can find out more about these art initiatives at www.fiberstock.com. It is company in Buffalo. MN that produces the fiberglass statues. 

Babe was the first one of these art installations that we have seen up close. Apparently there are 22 other statues in the surrounding cities and here they are only on display until Labor Day. Then they will be auctioned off to raise money for The Crossing Arts Alliance which has identified a need in area communities and will use funds raised through this project to expand, offer and implement art classes for K-12 students in Lakes Area schools. With my background in teaching and Maggie's love of art we have seriously considered buying one of these statues and putting it in the yard of my parent's lake home. In order to make an educated decision as to which Babe would suit my parents yard the best, we decided to drive around and see as many oxen as we could find. Maggie was constantly on the lookout for Babe and she would strive to be the first one in the car to spot the statue. Here are some photos from our Lakes Area search.

 

The Other Three-Quarters

Well Jay isn't the only one having a good time. Maggie, Zoe and I returned to Minnesota to hang out with family for a few weeks. We decided that since we had to be back in Minnesota for a wedding in August that we'd come back early and have some fun. When Jay heads out fishing we often hang out in Francine, which is fine, for a few days. A few weeks, and we start to go a little stir crazy. Maggie was craving some friends and I was craving some adults, so off to Minnesota we went.

Now you must understand what visiting the Larson cousins means to Maggie. It is uninterrupted Maggie time. She has 4 cousins that range in age from 12 to 4. This alone would be great company for her and a nice break for me, but on the cul-du-sac that the Larson's live on the are somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 children. No, just kidding, but there are more children than I can keep track of in a day. The Larson clan has the fewest number of children on their block. Most families have 5, 6 or even 7 children. It is amazing to look out and see all those kids running around and playing. Maggie instantly made friends with everyone in the neighborhood. Many of the girls upon seeing Maggie said "AWE, she's so CUTE. I wish she was my cousin...." Maggie just grinned from ear to ear. Add to this that every other yard has a pool, a swing set and a trampoline and there is no end to what can be done in a day. Maggie has "perfected" her swimming skills to the point where she swam without the aid of her floaties. It wasn't the prettiest thing to watch, but it worked for her.

A few days after we arrived, the girls came in to tell us that we were needed next door for a "show." Maggie, her cousins, and a couple of other neighbor girls were putting on a show for everyone. Cousin Mollie was the MC and introduced the girls to the sell out crowd. I think there were 10 adults in attendance and 20 kids. Maggie sang "Sweet Caroline" and "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Her fellow performers played the violin. Each was dressed in the fanciest dress-up clothes they could find. I was amazed by the lack of shyness of all the girls. Here is a short video of Maggie's performance.





In addition to playing in the neighborhood, we spent a little time out and about. Mollie attended Korean Culture Camp for a week. It was down in Minneapolis, which is a trek from the Larson house. One of the days we loaded up all the cousins and headed to Science Museum of Minnesota to help pass the time while Mollie was at camp. What an amazing place. We played Mini-Golf there while learning about Watersheds. We saw dinosaur skeletons, experimented with light and water. We even saw how the body works. It was a very fun day. Below is a picture of everyone playing in the large sandbox. The sloping sandbox had water pumped into it at the top to create rivers. Children could make sandbars and dams and put culverts in to divert the water and watch how their changes effected the river's direction.

With so much of Maggie's time spent with other kids, I found myself with very little to do. Missy, my sister-in-law and I spent much of my time lounging on the couch actually reading whole novels and completing full sentences without interruption. I barely saw Maggie and had to drag her in to eat. It was heaven for all.

Standing in the Shadow of Giants

Yesterday I made a long trek from Jackson, WY, to Idaho Falls, ID, to a small town just south of Sun Valley called Picabo.  Why, you ask would anyone choose to visit a 1 gas station town in the relative middle of nowhere of central Idaho?  Fishing would be that answer.  While there has certainly been a theme to these posts over the last couple of weeks, bear with me, once I return to my wife and daughter and pull myself out of my sunburned, dusty, trout glazed trance I have been blissfully residing in, things will get back to normal.  We will travel again and tell you stories that are of broader appeal to those of you who wonder just how many days in a row a guy can stand in a river and try to catch trout.  (The answer to this question, by the way, cannot even be approximated by science at this point).

While Picabo was a destination for fishing, there is a treasure hidden in the farmlands nearby that is worth visiting for anyone.  Just outside of "town" sits a world famous spring creek called Silver Creek.  The cool, crystal clear waters of this gem grow trout at a prodigious rate and the number  of anglers that visit this little slice of heaven give those trout a post doctorate in artificial fly research.  This place is tough, but extremely rewarding fishing.

But beyond the fishing, the wildlife, beauty, and history of Silver Creek is memorable.  Legend has it that Silver Creek entered the nation's angling consciousness due to one Ernest Hemingway.  It seems that the developer of Sun Valley Ski Resort was looking for some way to continue filling hotel rooms after the snow melted, so in 1935 (or so), Hemingway came to the area and was invited to sample to hunting and fishing available on Silver Creek.  This visit apparently led to Hemingway's life long love of Idaho and it's outdoors.

Many years later, Jack Hemingway, Papa's son, learned that the owner of a big portion of Silver Creek was putting the land up for sale.  Jack, along with many others, raised a significant amount of money, bought the property, and donated it to the Nature Conservancy.  At the time, the Preserve was about 400 acres.  As of today, 22 landowners have added to the land of the Preserve and it now numbers more than 10,000 acres.  What began 30 years ago as a vision to protect a natural gem has succeeded in spades.

Silver Creek is an oasis in the desert.  A riparian habitat in the middle of arid land that provides homes from deer, moose, birds of all sorts, and trout.  Big trout.  I arrived here last night to find that I had almost the entire preserve to myself.  As I got to the river, I noticed a thunderstorm heading in, promising relief from what was an intensely hot and sunny day.  I made my way up to the cabin/visitor center at the preserve, sat on the covered porch, and watched bands of rain, heat lightning, and rumbles of thunder roll across the valley.  It truly felt like what that spot must have felt like 70 years ago, when Hemingway and  his contemporaries prowled the grounds.

I watched the valley change color a dozen times in an hour as the storms passed through.  I watched a dozen hummingbirds dance around a feeder.  I had a close encounter with a mother mule dear and her two fawns.  I stepped into a moose wallow and could smell the pungent oder of an animal just recently left.  Oh, and I got a lesson from a few trout.  All in all, a truly memorable evening that continued like a dream right into this morning when the trout were again rising, only this time a bit more willingly to my fly.

The author Thomas McGuane said something to the efffect that a big reason he fishes is that it gets him out into the world and into places he might not see otherwise.  Silver Creek was precisely such an experience for me.  Were it not for the excuse of fishing, I might have never seen Silver Creek and I would have been to poorer for it.

Jackson Hole . . . and Minnesota

The summer doldrums continue to lightly push us around, but not very far.  I am currently hanging out in Jackson Hole, enjoying some beautiful weather and fishing while the girls are floating around the lake back in Minnesota.  We have settled in to a sort of summer vacation from our travels, as we spend time with our families, take care of some needed tasks, and figure out where we are headed next.

Answer?  We are not totally sure, but we do know it will be Colorado for a while in early September for a wedding, then more travels in September and October.  Most likely we will head to the Pacific Northwest then.  After that remains to be seen.  Will we see an international edition of the Slow Lane????

Stay tuned...