Summer in Montana

The Slow Lane crew arrived in Bozeman, MT just as the rivers were coming down from a huge winter of snow and the trout were starting to rise.  When we first planned out our trip, we were shooting to arrive in Montana around the first of July, in order to enjoy the tremendous summer weather southeast Montana has to offer.  It hasn't disappointed.  Highs in the 70s to 80s and lows in the 40s and 50s.

Bozeman is one of the places that we have considered settling down, so our visit has not been all fun and games, although, there has been plenty of fun and games.  We have intermixed fishing, hiking, and hanging out with friends with exploring the real estate market and investigating potential careers.  The town is a great one, a place we have spent many days over the last few summers, and a place that does feel like it could be home.

We were also thrilled to have Nana and Bapa Hake come up to spend a weeks worth of vacation with us.  We went to art festivals, Yellowstone National Park, went swimming, and just toured around and enjoyed Montana.  It was great to see them, and Maggie was so thrilled to get spoiled for a week or so.

Yellowstone is always a highlight and this trip was especially fun because Nana had never been to the Park.  It was great to play tour guide and we had a wonderful time.  One of the things that was very striking about the trip was the lack of crowds, relatively speaking.  While the big areas, Mammoth Hot Springs and Old Faithful for example, were pretty busy, the roads through the Park were almost empty.  Also, several campgrounds were not full, which is unusual.  We wondered to what extent this was fueled by the price of fuel.  Whatever the cause, we were able to see a great deal of the park, without many crowds.

Once Nana and Bapa left, it was back to real estate and job research, until we all of the sudden realized, we weren't having much fun.  We had gotten so wrapped up in trying to decide if we were going to move to Bozeman, what we would do, and where we would live, that we forgot that a big part of this trip was to have fun.

Throughout this journey, we have ridden waves of emotion from the thrill of being on the road with no encumbrances, to loneliness, to fear, to contentment.  Whenever things get challenging, our first instinct is often that it is time to cut the trip short, look for a house, settle down, and rejoin our "regular scheduled lives," which are already in progress.

However, once we start focusing on those issues, we quickly realize that stability isn't the automatic cure all either.  No, the grass isn't greener on either side of the fence.  This is why I changed the quote at the top of the page today.  Because life isn't solely about where you are, or what you do, although those are pieces.  Life is much more about how you live it.  Finding the balance, beauty, and joy in each day and moment, regardless of how settled, predictable, or chaotic it is.

Learning to find this balance has been one of the central points of the trip and one we are still pursuing.  I only hope that once this trip winds down and we re-enter everyday life, that goal and these experiences stay with us.

Itasca State Park and the Legacy of the CCC

As our time in Minnesota wound to a close, we decided to take a drive north to Itasca State Park, the birthplace of the mighty Mississippi.  There, in the sandy pine forests of northern  Minnesota, the Mississippi begins its nearly 1,500 mile journey down to the Big Easy and out into the Gulf of Mexico.  Scientists tell us that a drop of water beginning its journey in Itasca takes around 90 days to reach the ocean.  Ironically enough, this was about how long it took us to get from Louisiana to the Source, so apparently we are just contrarian drops of water, flowing upstream.

Itasca, like many of the state parks that we have seen on our way, is a wild, special place, that evokes thoughts of the past.  Dotted amongst the undeveloped lakes (there are more than 100 in the Park), towering pines, wildflowers and glassy streams are unique log and stone buildings that have been standing since the 1930s.  The architecture of these buildings has become synonymous with state and national parks.  Low slung, stout stone foundations with huge post and beam log construction.  Grand stone archways.  Majestic buildings created from the local land.  These are elegant buildings that make you question, if only momentarily, whether you really should be traipsing across those floors in shorts and dirty hiking boots.  Close your eyes slightly and you can still see the shadows of gentlemen in pants and ties and ladies in dresses, walking, picnicking, and canoeing through the parks of yesterday.

As much as I enjoy the natural beauty of these parks, I also enjoy their old buildings and the human history.  Not coincidentally, many of these parks share a relatively recent common history.  A history born out of the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl, and a nation seeking to rise from the tatters massive unemployment and economic despair.  In 1932, at the height of the Great Depression, President Franklin Roosevelt introduced and Congress approved a bill creating the Civilian Conservation Corps (the CCC).  The purpose of the CCC was to provide jobs for the rapidly growing number of unemployed Americans, by providing them work building public infrastructure and performing conservation projects around the country.  While the CCC only operated for 9 years, at the time of it’s disbanding in 1942, more than 3 million (yes, MILLION) Americans participated.  They built parks, buildings, bridges, and reservoirs in nearly every state in the union.  They planted 5 BILLION trees across the country.  They fought wildfires and built telephone lines, power lines, and roads.  The CCC workers contributed indelibly to the country and in return received work, pay, and food at a time when many were wanting for all three.  (For more information about the CCC, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Conservation_Corps).

A visit to nearly any state or national park today likely shows you hints of the CCC’s impact.  A visit to many, many parks and public spaces, over three months, shows you that the CCC changed the landscape of America for the better in dramatic ways. The CCC was also a stroke of political genius from an inspired leader.  When Roosevelt proposed the creation of the CCC, there was significant opposition.  When polled about the CCC’s value towards the end of it’s life-span, 86% of Americans were in favor of it.  Say what you will about Roosevelt, he was a great leader.  Not a man focusing on polls, approval ratings, or appearances.  Not a man focused on ideas of fear and scarcity, and stumbled by rhetoric. A President crippled with polio, who ably led this country through some very, very dark times.  Did he reach too far at times?  Yes, probably.  Did he change the direction of America for the better when it was direly needed?  Most definitely.

While our country certainly isn’t in the same poor shape it was in 1932, things today are, by most people’s estimation, not as good as they could be.  So, the next time you find yourself walking around a national park, a state park, a national forest planted by the CCC, or enjoying some other CCC created infrastructure, consider:  Will our country ever see another leader who could create so much with little more than the hands and wills of people?  Further, ask yourself if the people of this country would set aside their divisiveness and cynicism to follow.  For me the answers to these questions are: “I hope so,” and “I hope so.”

A Brief Programming Note

The Slow Lane has made it's way to Bozeman, MT after leaving Minnesota and making our way across the North Dakota plains.  We will have several posts up shortly, updating you all on our current adventures.  Suffice it to say, we are experiencing the usual internet connectivity challenges...

MPR - A Special Report

This Special Edition of MPR is brought to you from Bloomington, Minnesota.  While visiting family in the Minneapolis area, Maggie reached the zenith of her playground reviewing life.  Throughout the last few months, we have visited playgrounds in nearly 15 states, each containing some combination of slides, ladders, swings, rocking animals, merry-go-rounds, and other thrill generating items.  But never in her 3.83 years on this planet had Maggie seen anything like the Nickelodeon Universe theme park at the Mall of America.

For those of you who have recently arrived to this planet from outer space,  you may not know that Minnesota is famous for, of all things, a shopping mall.  Yes, a sad but true association.  You want retail?  Get a charter to MSP and a ten minute cab ride will put you out of, or into, your misery.  However, know this. This is no mere run of the mill, basic, department stores on the corners, Gaps in the middle sort of mall.  This is the Mother of All Malls, The Mall of America.  This place is 4.2 MILLION square feet or retail heaven, or hell, depending on your perspective.    It is so big, I think Delaware hid Rhode Island here last year and no one has found it yet.  Seriously, look for next year's flags to have only 49 stars and a dollar sign on it.  

Spread out across the MOA's four floor, vertigo inspiring square design is every imaginable thing a human being may want to purchase . . . with the exception of decent fly fishing equipment.  That major detraction aside, it does have a huge attraction if you are an almost four year old who has spent too much time in the car: it has an indoor amusement park.

Now, we aren't just talking a ride here, ride there, local town Fourth of July traveling show kind of amusement park with some swings, a carousel, and the Spider ride.  No, we are talking about four story roller coasters, log flumes, bumper cars, blenders, big drops, and four story spinning surfboards, all with Sponge Bob running around too.  In short, it was kid nirvana.

When asked, after nearly seven (yes, you read that right) hours of running, eating, riding, singing, screaming, and getting her ears pierced, what this park rated out of five stars, Maggie said something like: "I don't know, like 27 stars or something!"  Please note dear reader that the "like" part of that quote is direct language from Margaret.  You see, it appears that our 3.83 year old little girl must have somehow come across a few abandoned episodes of Beverly Hills 90210 because she now officially speaks valley girl.  To a father whose occupation tends to demand precision of language, this sounds similar to a constant grating of one's nails on the proverbial chalkboard (not the 3.83 year olds know what a chalkboard is).

Verbal cheese graters aside, we did have a fantastic day with my Sister and her 4 children, who along with Maggie, turned the Nickelodeon Universe upside down.  For a guy who doesn't like to shop (unless for the aforementioned fishing gear), I do have to admit, we had more fun in that mall than any 8 people should have.  Lisa, my Sister, and I were even able to hit some of the big rides, which are tremendously fun.  There is even a roller coaster, the SpongeBob Square Pants Rock Bottom plunge, which sports a 68 foot first hill that drops down at 97 degrees!  That was a blast.

So, without further ado, some photos from this special edition of MPR.

Yes, we have a dog

At this point, I think it appropriate to introduce you to our dog, Zoe. While we have posted bits and pieces mentioning her, including her most recent unplanned hospital visit, it is time you the reader had a proper initiation into the life of Zoe the Dog.

Maggie is quick to inform nearly everyone we meet that we have a dog.  This introduction usually goes like this: "do you know what?  We have a dog."  When the engaged party inevitably responds: "really, what is your dog's name?" Maggie immediately will say: "Her name is Zoe, she's a border collie and she likes to eat trash." While both of these points are certainly true, some further breadth and depth is necessary to truly understand Zoe.

In December of 1995, I gave Lisa a gift certificate to the Minnesota Humane Society for a Christmas present.  We discussed wanting to get a border collie and one day, Lisa called me at work telling me she had bought a dog.  While it wasn't a pure bred border collie, it was a collie mutt, and Lisa fell for her the minute she saw her.  Lisa was out in the exercise yard with Zoe and as the were heading back in, Zoe picked up a ball that was laying outside.  The volunteer who was out with Lisa simply said to Zoe: "that's not yours," and Zoe dropped the ball and went back inside.  Sold.

What a smart dog we had.  We were so happy.  And indeed, she was a sweet, sweet puppy.  A funny looking black and white mutt with legs and tail just slightly oversized.  She was a lover.  I taught her to fetch the paper in about 20 minutes and she can still do it today.  She could tell her toys apart by name.  She slept on the bed because she would whine and cry if we made her sleep on the floor.

During our new dog parent bliss, we happily overlooked several telltale warning signs.  Zoe's previous owners had given her up when she was 5 months old.  They had named her Lady, and clearly even the early signs indicated this was no lady.  She had a tendency to chew things.  Oh, and she had an incredible amount of energy.

Over the next two years, these points were painfully brought to life.  This dog was perhaps a child of Satan.  She tore up her dog beds.  She ate a bottle of nail polish remover.  She actually chewed through an electrical cord that was plugged into a wall . . . while standing on the metal floor of her kennel.  She nearly ate a dog gate.  Once, when we had to put her in the kennel in the garage for a house showing, she tried to dig her way out through the metal floor, leaving her bloody and shaking.

Then, just as we were reaching the ragged edge of sanity, she turned two, and a switch flipped.  Sure, she could still run down a frisbee all day long, and yes, she snacked on the occasional coffee cup or Chicago Cutlery knife, but these things were manageable.  Again, we believed she really was a great dog.  During these years, we enjoyed a quiet life with our crazy canine, taking her everywhere with us, including on our first road trip in 1998-1999.  On that trip, she traveled 4,000 plus miles.  This for a dog who was car sick as a puppy.

All was well until Maggie came along (well, this may have been the trigger).  Then, Zoe had competition for the affection.  Then, things started to go bad, again.  In the autumn of her life, in addition to countless bags of haphazardly placed trash, Zoe has eaten coumandin based rat poison, numerous banana peels, Easter baskets (chocolate and all), an unimaginable variety of organic and semi-organic items outside, and the gold standard of "foraging," as our most recent vet so charitably called it, razor blades.

All of these incidents have blended together over the years and we have typically dealt with them through a mixture of frustration, disgust, and laughing disbelief.  Once we were battle tested, these foraging events became nothing a tablespoon or two of hydrogen peroxide induced vomiting couldn't handle.

But a couple of weeks ago, our attitudes changed.  That change occurred rapidly, or slowly depending on your point of view, as I stayed up for an entire night with Zoe as she vomited endlessly on the cold floor of Francine.  This was not normal.  This was not a bounce back after a quick bout of vomiting.  In fact, as I took Zoe to the vet in a bleary eyed stupor, I thought it might be the end.  I had never seen her so sick.  I thought our erstwhile companion might be through.  I was scared.

Hah!  Right.  All Zoe needed to kick a bout of pancreatitis was a short stay at the vet, a quick IV, some doggie drugs, and some special canned food.  Two days later she was back home with us as right as rain.  We were thrilled.  We loved her, spoiled her, and doted on her.  There is nothing like almost losing your dear canine companion to realize how rich she has made your life.

Shortly after her vet stay, we even talked about posting a blog tribute to her.  We would laud our unique, quirky, and indestructible nine-life dog.  We would talk about her being the unsung hero of the trip.  Always wagging her tail, never complaining, the faithful companion indeed.  Good thing we didn't fall for that.  We would have been just like that family 13 years ago who named her Lady.  We would have been duped.

Since her brush with the beyond, Zoe has learned nothing.  She has not changed.  She has not wisely settled in to enjoy her remaining days in peace.  No, no, no.  She has eaten trash, again. She broke in to the pantry at my sister's house with a canine sidekick and ate an entire bag of hamburger buns.  She ate half a bar of soap (one of her traditional favorites.)  And, needless to say, she has also suffered absolutely no ill effects.

All this brings us around to today.  As we were leaving for a quick trip to the Dairy Queen tonight, Lisa's dad says to me, "should we put those cans of dog food away?"  "No," I replied "she won't eat through the cans." Stupid, stupid, stupid, me.  You see, it seems that she will indeed eat through steel cans.  Apparently, the canned dog food from the vet had a strong impact on her.

So, we arrived home tonight to a back hallway covered with dog food, blood, cardboard, chewed up steel can, and a male schnauzer who I swear looked at me and said: "YOUR DOG IS X$#@!&@ CRAZY!!!!!"  And so she is.  She is also uninjured.  Sure she has a couple of scratches on her chin, a few cuts on her lips, and a gash on her tongue.  Nonetheless, within 10 minutes, she was licking crumbs up off the floor.  This dog has an unimaginable tolerance for pain.

The author Jim Harrison once wondered something to the effect of why we give our dogs ages in dog years.  You know, why do we assign seven years to a dog for every one year they live in order to get a sense of how old a dog is based on our perceptions.  He propositioned that perhaps, given the great contribution dogs make to our lives, we should determine our age based on the number of dogs we have had.  Based on this alternative age, I am nearly 3 full dogs old and feeling every bit of it.  In fact, I am going gray on my temples at 3.  

It is hard to describe how I feel about having Zoe as a pet.  She is neurotic trash eater.  She is obnoxiously pushy.  She is an incessant beggar and a relentless licker of every surface she can place her high mileage tongue on.  She is also one of the sweetest, smartest, most loving, friendly, and goofy four legged companions one could ever hope to have.  She is a go anywhere, do anything dog, who loves Maggie like crazy.  She has been one of the best dogs possible, I just hope, given life with her, that I live to see age 4 on the Harrison scale.

Interregnum

We have arrived at the spiritual half-way point of our journey, with the "east" behind us and the "west" beckoning.

We are going to take another week or so off from travel and enjoy visiting some family and sleeping in a full length bed.  During that time, the posting will be a bit slow.  We will get caught up on a few things and post a few pictures, however. 

Once we have some updates up, we will send out a quick e-mail letting you all know.

Thanks for reading, we love hearing from people who are reading the blog, so please drop a line.

A Tale of Two Beaches

It was the best of beaches and the worst of beaches.  In a short couple of weeks we experienced both.  After leaving Charleston, S.C., we headed just north to Huntington Beach State Park, which is just south of Myrtle Beach, S.C.  This park is located on the "Grand Strand," the famous stretch of Atlantic Ocean beach on the South Carolina coast.  

In addition to a stunning, three mile stretch of white sand beach, the park also has a fresh water lagoon, a salt water lagoon, and summer home of Archer and Ann Huntington, the original owners of the land on which the park is located.

We took some great walks through the park, seeing alligators, crabs, jellyfish, egrets, herons, shrimp, and squadrons of plunging shore birds.  The weather was as good as the scenery, too.  Low to mid 80s every day and only a little bit of rain.  

One of the things that we have tried to do as much as possible on this trip is make that little bit of extra effort to really enjoy unique experiences.  At Huntington Beach we had just such an experience.  We rallied the whole family out of bed at 5:15 in the morning to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean.  While this was a real early morning for us, we were rewarded with a spectacular display.  

We hiked together to the beach through the sand dunes by the light of a dimming flashlight.  As we crossed part of the salt marsh, the moon was setting off to our right, glowing brightly in the pre-dawn.  

When we reached the beach, the sun just began to lighten the eastern sky. As Zoe ran up and down the beach

reading the morning scent newspaper, we took off our shoes, waded into the water, and soaked in the dawn of a new day.  The sky was perfect for a grand show; mostly clear with just a few clouds to highlight the color.  While I took nearly 30 pictures, here are a mere few, which will hopefully do the morning justice.

Huntington Beach marked the end of the first leg of the Slow Lane journey: our journey through the South.  While we did spend a few fine days in the Blue Ridge Mountains in western Virginia, our primary goal after South Carolina was to make our way back to the Midwest, to spend some quality time with family and friends in the lake country of Minnesota.

As part of that journey north, we steeled ourselves for the great jaunt across the Ohio-Indiana farm megaplex.  For those of you who have never driven across these states, this is vast, vast country.  Truly the nation's breadbasket.   On our way, we stayed one night in Chillicothe, OH, which was the original state capital of Ohio.

At our campsite there, we met one of our first younger couples of the trip, who were traveling the country in a 1958 Yellowstone travel trailer after getting married.  It was great fun sharing a campfire with them before we went our separate ways the next morning.  As spring has started to turn into summer, we have definitely seen more young families and kids traveling, which has really made us (particularly Maggie), happy.  

At the end of our long, windy, and slow journey across farm country, we stopped at an interesting state park at the southern tip of Lake Michigan, Indiana Dunes State Park.  The Dunes is a unique place, with a huge sand dune ecosystem along the lake.  When we arrived, it was beautiful, with temperatures in the upper 70s.  As we were cooking dinner and making a campfire, our weather radio went off with a weather warning.

For those of you who have not been to the Great Lakes, it can be hard to explain the ferocity of the weather.  Suffice it to say there are nearly 5,000 documented commercial shipwrecks lying on the bottom the Great Lakes.  In fact, several years ago, Lisa and I experienced the fickle and dangerous weather of Lake Superior aboard a 38 foot sailboat, when a storm bringing 35 knot winds, 6-8 foot seas, and pouring rain hit us out of nowhere.

Our short stay at Indiana Dunes was a dry land repeat of this experience.  The weather warning that rang out that night told mariners to seek immediate safe harbor, as the gentle south winds that were blowing 5 knots or so were going to switch 180 degrees in front of a cold front steaming south from Canada.  In a few short hours, the temperature dropped to 45 degrees, rain fell in sheets, and the winds were blowing at 30-40 knots.  Let me assure those of you who haven't experienced this type of weather: it is unpleasant.  It is cold, wet, scary weather.  If you were to park your car in the parking lot at the beach that day, you would have been treated to a free sandblasting.

For a family who had just been enjoying 85 degree temperatures on the beaches of South Carolina, this was an abrupt change.  At the same time, it was fun to see and brought back great memories of my years growing up in Minnesota.  The Great Lakes are a truly awesome environment and one everyone should experience.

Given the weather, we cut our stay at the Dunes short and headed to Chicago, which turned out to be a fateful decision, because when Zoe got sick, we were 5 blocks from a vet, not 1.5 hours.

Here are some photos of our second beach in two weeks.  Needless to say, we weren't beachcombing and swimming on this day.