I try to be as environmentally conscious as I can. True, we do not have an electric car, but with the price of electricity in NH it would kill our budget. That is, if we even had a budget.
We would love to go solar, but we live in the woods and I am quite fond of our trees.
We do recycle.
Carry our own water bottles, courtesy of Hydro Flask.
We reuse as many take-out containers as we can. Not going out to dinner and cleaning our plates when we do means there are not a lot of those.
Bread bags are always reused.
Grocery totes are used instead of plastic. Unless of course I left the bags in the other car. Then I try to get paper, helps in starting the wood stove.
Trying to shop with a minimum of single use plastic. Not easy.
We do not use paper towels.
We do use scratchy, septic safe toilet paper. There never seemed to be a Covid shortage.
We keep the heat down, or off. Most of our heat comes from our wood stoves. The wood comes from our back pasture, dead trees cut down with my battery operated chain saw. Which, by the way, I love.
Greta Thunberg tried not to fly. However, we did not have that option on our trip. Read, I did not have that option. Next trip out to Yellowstone and Glacier, hoping to take the train. I love trains! And Amtrak stops at Glacier!
Kudos to Logan airport. They had water bottle fill-ups and many recycling stations around. Many of the vendors within tried to use recyclable materials.
We tried to rent a small fuel-efficient car from Enterprise, but they were all taken. I suppose that is a good sign? They actually had only one car left with 4 wheel drive capability. But, it was comfy.
Nebraska had many huge wind farms. I liked to think that some rancher is making money as the turbines turn.
Sadly, most of the trip was appalling as far as care of the environment. Hotels had little thought for it. Plastic and single-use reigned supreme. It was very off-putting. The signs that say save on laundry have been up for years, as have the please turn out the lights. Purely cost-saving, rather than environment saving. There were few hotels with any recycling bins.
We use Hilton honors and Marriot Bonvoy when we travel. Marriot won us over with their Element Hotels. The one in Bozeman Montana is now a favorite, and we will be back. Recycle bins everywhere. Use of real utensils if they could be substituted for plastic. None of those tiny worthless shampoo etc. bottles.
I hope in the future more hotels will practice green. It is the little steps that make a big difference. If all hotels would work, as the Element Hotels do, to do their bit, even slightly, it will make a difference.
The other welcome trend we saw was how many small midwestern and western towns were preserving and caring for their historic buildings. The Weaver Hotel had been restored by the townspeople of Waterville Kansas, and was maintained by volunteers. Many of the retirees who were instrumental worried about whether the younger generation would continue their love of the place.
photo courtesy of incedibleae
The Irma also maintained its love of history, but it was more geared to tourism.
“Our appreciation of western history and architecture motivated us to originally purchase and restore the hotel. …A National Historic Register building.”
As someone who cares deeply about the environment, and knows I still do not do enough, one change to be made will be in how we travel. We will hopefully take the train more. Stay in more environmentally careful hotels, look for more historic hotels.
Always looking for ways to help save this planet and learning constantly, it would be great to read what tricks you have to make your travel a bit greener, or what you do in your daily life to make even little changes.
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As an avid reader of all things Teddy Roosevelt, Yellowstone has been a draw for many years. It wasn’t smooth sailing for the area to become the firstNational Park in the country. (1872) It is often hunters who are the most influential when it comes to the conservation of land and wildlife. Even in this day and age. So it was with Yellowstone. It had to do with a sumptuous dinner.
We could only spend a couple of days. A short trip that managed to whet my appetite for more. The park, and the environs, deserve more. As mentioned in my previous blog; My first trip to Yellowstone, our first foray was through the South East entrance. There I saw my first Elk, and it turned out, my last. My first Yellowstone Bull Buffalo. My first Buffalo was in Custer State Park in South Dakota, you always remember your first, correct?. And, my first hot spring.
As we were staying at the Irma in Cody our entrance back into Yellowstone was from the East Entrance. This meant we were going to navigate yet again, the tricky road through Sylvan Pass. Travelling the road from East to West was not nearly as terrifying as going from West to East. Remember this photo from my previous Yellowstone blog?
yikes
The road to Yellowstone is impressive in its own right. We made a quick stop at the Buffalo Bill Dam. There are trails down to the base of the dam, but S had been left in the car while I got at least a bit closer. Not sure I would have liked being that close to the base of a dam in a cavernous river bed anyway.
note viewing platform ->A powerful cleft.rock slide area. The Dam is built on a fault. Check out the trail on the left. Better view of the viewing platform.
Soon we were in the confines of Yellowstone.
One learns to look when there is a crowd of people. Sarge took photos of pretty girls on top of cars.
That is some lens that guy has!
I looked to the left and there in the flats were a couple of last year’s Grizzly Cubs. They were scrounging in the riverbed.
when they suddenly went “Oh my gosh what was that!” I mistakenly thought it must have been another stupid human traipsing through the bushes to get a better shot. George Bumann, in one of his seminars, had discussed watching reactions to be able to catch even better wildlife viewing. Sorry, George, missed opportunity but, had we stayed, we would have gotten stuck in a bear jam. And, I did get a couple of cute pictures of the little guys from the class of 2020.
Teenagers frightened as Mother comes.
A bit further down the road, a ranger told me it was mama and this year’s cub that had caused their panic. You should have seen the older ones high tail it out of her way!
(and I blamed a stupid human!)
We were told to make sure we got to the Lamar Valley. It was beautiful and filled with Bison. Also filled with campers and people in lawn chairs, probably waiting for Wolves. I would have been one of those gawkers, had we not been on a tight schedule. Remember, this was a reconnaissance trip, with plans to come back.
Love the bird
I even got to see a Mountain Goat. Thank goodness I brought my spotting scope along! No picture. Need to practice that photo process. But what a treat.
Wildlife isn’t the only beauty of Yellowstone. Coming from the Granite State, read lots of grey rocks, the colour of the cliffs in Yellowstone is incredible. We here in New England like to boast about our blue skies, but one has to admit. They are not so bad out west either.
The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone is no slouch. Soon crowds began to grow so we caught views where we could on our way to West Yellowstone.
Next trip, want to join in and follow the trail to the base of Tower falls.
We got some small glimpses of geyser basins. The colours were surprising.
As we got closer to West Yellowstone, where we would have a fantastic game dinner, elk, and bison. We saw some locals ambling across the road.
Part of the park was closed. More reason to come back. Forced us to change our route away from the Tower Roosevelt hotel.
From West Yellowstone, we set our sights for Billings. Sorry, but easily skippable next trip, and on to Bozeman, we will be back.
Feeling adventurous we took the Bear Tooth All American Road. NOT to be missed and NOT for the faint of heart. Campers were not allowed but we did cross paths with one idiot. I hope they survived. The pass, at 10,947 feet, and yes you navigate a twisty windy road to get there, is closed in winter. Ah…Duh…
Into the stratusphere.The summit. Unbelievably windy.The switchbacks.
I did see a marmot poking out of the rocks near the summit. Check another wildlife viewing off.
As we came down into the valley, starkly beautiful, we came upon these ruins.
On the morning of February 27th, 1943, an explosion occurred nearly 7,000 feet below the Earth’s surface. The explosion was caused by a build up of methane gas, but what caused it to detonate is unknown. At the time, it was commonplace for miners to smoke while working. 77 miners were working that morning, but only 3 survived the day’s events. The explosion was so deep that people in the nearby communities didn’t feel anything, but only noticed something was wrong when a strange smoke and smell came wafting out of the mouth of the mine. Rescuers came from nearby mines as well as from a special rescue unit from Butte. Family members rushed to the mine to assist with the rescue, but the fumes were so poisonous that rescuers could only stand five minutes at a time in the mine. The Red Cross established an emergency hospital in Red Lodge which was staffed by student volunteers from the local high school. Over 100 rescuers suffered injuries and exposure to fumes. The number of casualties rose to 75. A handful of miners made it far enough to last an hour and half after the explosion. Reports tell of miners who wrote messages to their families with chalk. One message read, “Good bye wifes and daughters. We died an easy death. Love from us both. Be good.” After the disaster, the mine never reopened. Population in the area dropped significantly, and even today it is a fraction of what it was back then.
Kayde Kaiser |University of Montana |Geography Department
Another magical trip. There shall be more. Stay tuned as I comment on the environmental aspects of travelling, and what it is like to deal with someone you love having Cancer.
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And, thank you for taking the time to read this blog. This was a long one, but one filled with love for the region.
When we started planning our trip West there was one stop Sarge insisted on. The stop that kept him going the whole time I was stopping at historical markers along the Oregon Trail. CODY, WY,and the Cody Firearms Museum at the Buffalo Bill Center of the West.
Sarge deals in antique firearms and often works with the Cody Firearms Museum for historical information. So, not only had we planned to stay a couple of days in Cody, but, it had to be at the Irma hotel.
“Buffalo Bill spent $80,000 in 1902 dollars on construction costs. He named the hotel for his youngest daughter Irma, born February 9, 1886″
And, not just any room would do, we had to stay in the old section.
Updated but dated bathroom.
The Irma is fantastic. Even with Covid limiting the number of people working, the service was incredible. The bar, some think a gift from Queen Victoria to Buffalo Bill, was decorated to honor those final soldiers killed in Afghanistan. We were sure to keep politics out of any conversations.
This dour face is that of a man we did not know was suffering from Cancer at the time. A beautiful tribute to All our soldiers lost in battle.
We made forays into Yellowstone from here, but this post shall be about Cody and the environs as it is a place to explore. The food at the Irma is out of this world. Apologies to my vegetarian friends, but we are in the midwest and the beef haunch was perfectly cooked and the buffet incredible. We were even treated to a Wild West show. While the acting was not Broadway material, it was obvious that the actors and the audience enjoyed it. Isn’t that truly what it is all about?
Our reason for being in Cody was principally to visit the Cody Firearms Museum and for Sarge to thank the wonderful researchers, specifically Jesi Bennett, who had been so helpful over the years supplying him with factory letters on guns he had for sale. “The Cody Firearms Museum Records Office has rare access to select serial number records from Winchester, Marlin, L.C. Smith, Ithaca, Savage, and A.H. Fox.” We were given a private tour with Kristen who just happens to be married to the Director. Of course, photos had to be taken.
Kristen, her husband, Danny Michael, Director of the Firearms Museum, Jesi Bennett, the letter keeper, John Casey, researcher, Sarge, Angela Bertalot, indispensable assistant.
Any gun collector would be amazed at this incredible collection. Even I, wife of a gun dealer, found it fascinating, and a bit overwhelming. Should you be into guns, get to the Cody Firearms Museum. Worth a trip, and Cody is worth a few days.
The Museum is not just the Cody Firearms Museum. It is comprised of many other fantastic collections. And, since there is only so much gun looking I can do, the engraving and history while interesting…
I spent my time wandering the other museums. Sarge waited patiently for me, we did not realize at the time how sick he was, and how, (another blog) a trip to the hospital a couple of months later, would bring him back to his old self.
The Buffalo Bill Museum and the Art Museum were my favorites. There is pretty much something for everyone at this place. The gift shop, while very tempting, was quite pricey.
The town of Cody has many great little shops, and a couple of really good bakeries, with excellent coffee. I sat outside and people watched. Cowboys and tourists. Everyone was very friendly and enjoying the late September warm day.
When you are married to an antique firearms dealer, you learn to expect trips to gun shops, and sometimes, you come upon the unexpected. We hoofed it up the narrow stairway to the Dug Up Gun Museum. Just what I wanted to do, look at old trash guns. However, the exhibits were well labelled and as a history buff, I found this little museum fascinating. If you are in Cody, I recommend you spend a bit of time here. Sarge ended up buying a pair of pistols while there.
Another side trip that was a bit disappointing, but had its interesting sections was Old Trail Town. It is a group of rescued log cabins. I love log cabins, after all, we live in one. but it was disappointing to see some looked to be more for storage than a glimpse into the life led by the former residents. Perhaps I ask too much.
Imagine if you can, travelling west and coming across a wagon cemetery such as this.
Some of the interiors were a glimpse into what the pioneers might have seen when they brought their weary selves into a small settlement for supplies. This shall be noted in my upcoming book.
I love bronzes, and the statues we saw during our trip west were spectacular.
Love this.Outside museum. Liver eating Johnson, see below.CODE OF THE WEST. These two cowboys used to welcome travellers at the Cody Airport. See below.
More about Liver-Eating Johnson: “This is the Statue and Grave of Liver-Eating Johnson Cody, Wyoming John Garrison was born in New Jersey in 1824, but he became famous in the Wild West as Liver-Eating Johnson. His Indian wife was killed by other Indians, which set him on a murderous rampage of revenge that lasted for years and produced numerous dead Indians.“
This is turning out to be a very hard post to complete. We are itching to get back. What a wonderful adventure and more await. As I work on this post my mind takes me back to the beauty and magic of the area. Should we ever win the lottery, a pied a terre in Bozeman might be a must.
We left Riverton, WY headed for the Southern Entrance to Yellowstone. Our trip took us up Rte 26, through the desolate section of the reservation. We did not make it to the historical area of Fort Washake. Fly fishing is a great draw in the Wind River, however from 26 it was rocks and cliffs, while spectacular, one had to wonder how the Indians survived here many years ago. They were fishermen and the Wind River provided. More information on the Reservation and it’s attractions can be found at: https://windriver.org/destinations/wind-river-indian-reservation/
As we passed out of the reservation I got my first view of the Tetons. I tried to take a picture, but hard, and perhaps not too smart, to do when travelling and driving, in a rental car at speed. Another great reason to return to the area.
We had not even heard of the National Museum of Military Vehicles. It wasn’t even listed on our maps. But lo and behold, there, right along Rt 26, amidst the cliffs, sat a parking lot full of old military vehicles. The museum was developed by Dan Starks, who wasn’t even a veteran, but wanted to honour those who were. Sarge, having been a Lieutenant in the Army, had to stop. I groaned. And, as it turned out, I am glad we did. It was fascinating and worth the stop. Of course, someone had to have his picture taken in front of the entrance.
Such a ham.
It was not til later that I read Dubois is known for the Whiskey Mountain Mountain Goat herd. Mtn Goat was on my check list for Yellowstone. We were distracted by large equipment, so we did not keep our eyes on the ridges.
We skirted the Tetons, I still find driving through the White Mountains of NH equally exhilerating. Perhaps because we drove by the Tetons at a distance whereas you can pass right through the Whites. The colours of the rocks were magnificent, unlike the granite grey of the Whites. Definitely going to be on our next trip list to take some of the side roads.
We entered the South entrance of Yellowstone via 191. It is September. Many children are back in school, there was no line, and Sarge, being a disabled Veteran got us in free of charge. He was very proud of his permanent entrance pass. A beautiful way to enter.
I don’t know why, but for some reason I wasn’t aware that there were so many lakes in the area. With the drought, they were not as beautiful as they probably are when the water table is up, but all the same, awe inspiring. I wanted to get down to the shores and see if there were animal tracks, but Sarge wasn’t as mobile as he used to be, so leaving him sitting didn’t seem like an option. (Will be blogging about cancer on a future post).
ELK! My first Yellowstone sighting. A doe, are they called does? and a yearling. Unfortunately, NOT a good photograph. And, an idiot photographer. This was Rutting season, no, did not get any great big elk this trip. But, with all the publicity about stupid people getting too close to wildlife in Yellowstone, this woman was asking for it. I took a bunch of pictures of her, just hoping a Bull Elk would come after her, but, no newsworthy pictures. She was taking pictures with her cell, so she was not a pro by any means. No excuse.
My lens was fogged up.Darwin where are you?
We had decided to stay clear of the “tourist” spots. Crowds are not fun, and so many wonderful non-touristy things to see in a short time. Cruising along in our Enterprise car enjoying the views when bubble bubble to our right, steam arising. We hadn’t paid attention to the West Thumb geyser basin. Woo Hoo! My first “geyser”!!!!
It makes you think. What are we walking and driving over? I am a huge fan of Bill Bryson. Chapter 16 in his book “A Short History of Nearly Everything” Especially part 4, is a must read for anyone going to Yellowstone. Actually, in my opinion, ANYTHING by Bill Bryson is a must read.
From here we travelled along Yellowstone Lake. The fishing is supposed to be good here, and the views were spectacular. Although it was a cold day, the water in places steamed. We were going to travel near the lake for some time as we would be turning at Lake Village and heading toward Cody. When one sees a crowd parked along the road, it behooves one to stop and see what all the excitement is about. Near Bridge Bay we came upon such a crowd. Stopping we followed their gazes to see Eagles floating on the upward currents. How grateful that we live in NH where Eagles are becoming more prevalent. How wonderful that these watchers perhaps are seeing their first Eagles. We passed by, knowing we would see more at home.
Time to hit the trail, so we passed the Visitor Center this time, we would be coming back this way as it is the road to Cody, where we would be spending a couple of nights. As we headed East we saw our first Yellowstone Bison. We had seen Bison years before at the Custer State Park, but one never tires of seeing these magnificent beasts.
People drove right by this lone bull. Over bisoned?Trust me, I stayed in the car to get this shot.
Our trek then took us through the Absaroka Mtn range. A wiggly road through cliffs and drop-offs. It was a good thing it was daylight. The rock cliffs were spectacularly beautiful and the road a bit terrifying in the Easterly direction. Sylvan Pass travels along a canyon. This road, for good reason, is closed from early November through early May.
I did not get a lot of pictures along here. For obvious reasons.
We exited through the East entrance. I was surprised to see so many horse ranches offering trail rides as we were surrounded by high cliffs on either side. Not sure where the trails could be. Also worrying were the signs that were posted near “watch for horses” that said hard-sided campers only. This is due to Grizzlies I assume. As a horse person, the view of the chubby horses at the dude ranches was a pleasant way to end the day and know that we would soon be in Cody and the Irma Hotel. Trust me, after the drive through the mountains, a relaxing drink was high on my list.
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I love old westerns. Oddly enough, not for the horses, watching cowboys snatch their mounts in the mouth and dig their spurs into them is exceedingly painful. I love westerns for the romance of the open range, the cowgirls who defy the stereotypical lady of the 19th century. My first love and I used to imagine walking our horses down new subdivision roads in our once rural area. We were law “people”, or perhaps gunslingers. Lalo Schiffren music as our background.
I think we might have been cooler.
So we were going to LARAMIE! I had a huge crush on Robert Fuller. Now to be seen on HULU https://www.hulu.com/Live-tv, but we don’t subscribe.
Hopes up, we wandered around, only to find it filled with trendy shops on the main shopping street, and not much else outside of the tourist area. I was sadly disappointed. Worst of all, Robert Fuller was nowhere to be found. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Fuller_(actor)
Cheyenne was a bit better. A cowboy hat was bought, and an Indian-made bracelet was picked up at a pawn shop. Sept. 11 was our engagement anniversary. The news was full of remembrances of that fateful day. Twenty years ago, the fragility of life convinced us to go ahead and get married, this trip was our 20 year anniversary present to ourselves.
We stopped on our continued trip toward Yellowstone at the National Historic Trails Interpretive Museum. https://nhtcf.org/ It was wonderful. We braved the cold wind to get in and had a great time inside.
A reconstructed homesteader cabin.Get in and rock and roll over a stream. A real sense of what it was like. The interpretive center had a great show.From pioneer, to homesteader, to Pony Express. This statue depicts the changing of pony riders.
Our next stop was to be Riverton and a visit to the casino. No surprise, we took a few back roads and were magically surprised when our wending down route 220 took us by Independence Rock and alongside the famous Sweetwater River. https://www.wyohistory.org/encyclopedia/independence-rock
Pioneers believed that the rock marked the eastern border of the Rocky Mountains. They felt well on their way if they could reach Independence Rock by the Fourth of July. Those who did often celebrated America’s birthday.
We saw our first pronghorn buck. A beauty. A long-ago trip to the Dakotas had introduced me to herds of pronghorns, but here in Wyoming, they seemed used to traffic and humans and not so skittish. They are such beautiful graceful creatures.
How the pioneers managed to go on. How did their livestock survive? Many did not. Granted this area was experiencing a major drought, but all we could see was sagebrush. A continual wind blew, often raising swirls of sand. Hot during the day and incredibly cold at night. As we drove by herds of cattle one wondered how they were getting water, most of the streams were dry. They were widely spread out across the prairie land. Our Angus in KY always stayed together and had adorable nurseries where the calves would be watched over by a couple of Nanny cows. Not so here, many calves were lying out on their own. One would think, with predators in the area, that would be dangerous, perhaps the drought has changed their instinctive habits. Toward evening we witnessed them finally bunching up. They seemed to be following a trail along a now dried-up stream, in search of water. It was a sad and depressing sight. So unlike the happy cows in Nebraska, knee-deep in rich grass.
We continued on our North Westerly trek. The cliffs along 287, were incredibly beautiful. The colours, so varied. Red, tan, grey, orange. I hoped to take photos, but we had a long trek ahead of us.
Finally; Riverton, the smoke from the western wildfires was dissipating. The smoke grey sky was clearing. We did not stay at the casino hotel, and but we did have to explore. We only lost about 25 cents and the food there was wonderful and incredibly priced. Most of the people in the casino, no surprise, were Native Americans, and a joyful lot they were. It is a happy place to grab a great meal. https://www.windriverhotelcasino.com/ Frances Parkman described the Indians in his Oregon Trail, as “Thin, dirty, often starving, but usually very nice.” I am afraid they were thin, dirty and starving thanks to the white man’s intrusion.
The next day, our goal was to reach Cody Wyoming, home of the Buffalo Bill Center of the West (and the Cody Firearms Museum) we had booked a stay at the historic Irma hotel. AND, we were going to get there via the southern section of YELLOWSTONE!! This is how married folk compromise.
Stay tuned for the next installment. A surprise stop in Dubois, WY, my first view of the Grand Tetons, and catching wildlife photos in Yellowstone.
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Nebraska, Corn, flat, Corn, feed lots, guess to use up all the Corn. We left the beauty, romance and history of Alcove Springs behind and headed down the highway, aiming to stop at Ft. Kearney. Pronounced Karney, all this time I had been pronouncing it incorrectly. They say pronouncing something wrong is not bad, as it means you are a reader. So, I forgive myself as an avid bibliophile.
A bit of history, before we don’t go there.
Ft. Kearny was established in 1848 and discontinued in 1871. For a while it became home to homesteaders, who levelled all the historic buildings. In 1920 it was purchased by the Ft. Kearny Memorial Assoc., and became a state park in 1959. http://outdoornebraska.gov/fortkearny/
The great thing about travelling with my husband is we are both flexible when it comes to road trips. After checking our guide, we decided not to head toward the Fort, as time was getting short, and we had miles to go before we slept. We opted for a slight detour to Rock Creek Station. It was well worth the stop.
As previously mentioned, this trip was to glean more knowledge of what it was like to travel the Oregon Trail for my upcoming book. Rock Creek gave me insight into the difficulties experienced crossing even the smallest creek, and how toll bridges, could be a God send, or a headache, depending on your financials.
The view, minus live oxen, seen by many a dusty pioneer.View up the hill from scene of shoot out. Note toll bridge.Sight of the shoot out from barns.Bunk house, many pony riders rested here.Post office. Rock Creek was a pony express stop.The scene of the Wild Bill Hickock shoot out.
While Rock Creek was a pony express way station, it is also infamous as the sight of a shoot out involving Wild Bill Hickock. Somehow, it is my belief, he may have gotten away with murder. https://youtu.be/tXTlGj0joYg
We drove past many wind farms. The wind out here is continuous. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to have to spend hours in the wind and blowing dust. I have trouble keeping the dust off my furniture, let alone have it in everything. Makes those bonnets the women wore make total sense.
My ever patient husband has finally resigned himself that his wife does NOT like interstates, and will go way out of her way just to avoid them. On the flip side, and in my defense, turn about is fair play as they say. HIS ever patient wife will allow him to drag her miles and hours out of the way to go to a gun shop. He deals in antique firearms and is always on the hunt for a good gun. antiquesandguns.com. So, instead of bopping up to route 80, we took route 4 to 10 and up to Kearney, our next stop, having decided to pass up the Fort. We did drive by the fort entrance. Heading to Kearney, the town, we drove under the archway and research advised a stop, which we planned for the next day. A definite plus.
The museum packs a lot of information in one stop. And, best of all, a plethora (I love that word) of informational books for free. (They were available elsewhere, for a fee) Will be great research when I work toward finishing my book. I didn’t take any photographs, as there was a lot of information. More information can be found on their website. https://archway.org/
And so, the majority of my research ends, as we point our bright red car toward Wyoming. Sarge wanted to go to Cheyenne, lots of gun shops there, so we headed down route 80. As we cruise at 80 + down the highway, to our left, a small band of wild horses. Looking healthy thank goodness. Hard to keep my eyes on the road, did I mention going 80+? A horsewoman always has to look at the horses. Getting good at taking in a lot with a quick view. In fact, I even saw a loan coyote ambling through one of the fields.
This hater of interstates, hooked up with route 30 for a while. (We had stopped at a great gift and gun shop there) Much more fun that 80 and we still were going 65. Love those straight midwestern roads. Next state: Wyoming; full of treasures. Stay tuned.
Mary Oliver once wrote “I could not be a poet without the natural world. Someone else could. But not me. For me, the door to the woods is the door to the temple.”(1) Mary Oliver is speaking about how she finds inspiration and a deep spiritual connection to the natural world. She is also stating how the natural world is the foundation for her poetry. This is a sentiment shared by many poets. However, this direct inspiration is just the beginning of the way nature shows up in poetry.
As a style of poetry, nature poetry is actually a little more complicated than just seeing the natural world and writing about it. Edward Hirsch discusses how poets view the term “nature” in this excerpt from A Poet’s Glossary.
“Our concepts of nature are relative, historically determined. The nature poem is affected by ideology, by…
I have been working on a book about a young girl who travels the Oregon Trail with her father. Being a visual person, it was necessary for me to “see” the trail, not just read about it. Which I have done extensively.
The conversation came up for our 20th-anniversary celebration. Let’s have a party. Invite all our friends and relations. It will be a fete. ……And then we got practical. Cost of liquor, pain in the butt cleaning our tiny log cabin, Cost of lots of food. No parking, only one bathroom. The obstacles kept mounting. And, what would we have to show for it, but perhaps a hangover? Except that my husband doesn’t drink so he would be spared.
our little cabin
My adorable husband is not only patient, but also, once in a while, practical. He has heard me talk about travelling the Oregon Trail for years. Knowing I needed the trip to finish my book, and probably secretly hoping it would: a: shut me up, and b: produce a best seller that we could live off of for the next few years, we opted for the trip. After all, I had lots of zero balance credit cards. Why not do the American thing, and charge the trip?
So, starting in February, we began to plan and book. And a good thing too as many hotels were already filling up with post, sort of, Covid holidays being planned.
Normally, we travel with our dogs. Mikicc.org, my other blog, just highlights Ruby and Rusty, but we also have two Upland game hunting dogs, Buddie and Smoke. We have friends who own a kennel, Pondview, in Temple, and so we booked two rooms for them. As they are all rescues, it was very hard for me to leave them at “camp” but we planned to fly to Kansas City and rent a car. Not a good idea to do with dogs. And, when we do travel with them, guess who gets up at dawn to take them for a walk, and has to worry about whether they behave in the hotels. Stress I really didn’t want this trip.
Not sure they relished the idea of being left behind.
I hate to fly. It isn’t the flying so much. Now that my children are grown and exceedingly successful, the idea of flying is not so stressful. They no longer need me, I am forced to admit. However, it is the most dehumanising thing one can do. I have been told I am a SLIder, and in fact, my energy emenated enough that the TSA people thought I was carrying a bomb in my clothes and had to be searched. Did I say I HATE FLYING. Not only that, but as a high energy person, you should not ask me to sit in a tiny seat for hours on end without alcohol.
We started auspiciously by missing our flight. No comment. I should have caught the fact that the limo driver was picking us up in time to get us there 1/2 hour before take off. Fly and learn. It was right there on my excel breakdown of the trip. AARRGGHH. Sarge hated that they said he was old and did not have to remove his shoes. Then, an older gentleman in front of us, with a leg brace, was forced to sit down and remove it before going through the metal detector. They searched me, and my bag, thankfully I left my vibrator in my checked luggage.
I know now how to better pack. I am very minimal, but next time will use a back pack, instead of trying to be stylish. Sarge, on the other hand, packed enough clothes to be gone for a month. And who said women pack more than men?
Landing in the tiny, retro, Kansas City airport, we picked up our VERY red car and headed west. Our original plan had been to go to Ft. Riley, but with the oops, did I say we missed our flight? We arrived later than hoped and we had booked a room in the restored Weaver hotel, a bit of a haul to Waterville, Kansas.
I enjoyed the drive, though it took a while to get used to the 80 mph speeds. Roads were good. One would never want to go that fast on Massachusetts. roads. Here is hoping for an infrastructure bill. We saw a small band of wild horses along the way, and so much beautiful country full of the burnt oranges, soft moss greens and yellows my mother loved so well. Perhaps her years in Denver influenced her colour scheme. The drought was evident everywhere.
That being said, Kansas had lots of happy cows, grazing happily in grassy fields. Kansas also loves it’s history. They have many historical markers and many of the small towns take pride in their history and are restoring buildings throughout. We were pleasantly surprised by the beauty after always hearing that “Kansas is flat and boring” Nay say I. It is really quite beautiful and rolling. Nebraska….well that will be discussed later.
We stopped to read this sign, and getting out of the car, the sound of cicadas was deafening.
Because the first leg of this trip was researching for my book, we stopped at a few spots along the way. Most impressive were the Weaver Hotel, where we stayed. An incredible restoration done by locals. The town of Marysville, a pony express station and a beautiful little town, and Alcove Springs, an amazing step back in time, even with drought conditions.
Driving through Kansas and Nebraska, one really gets a sense of how difficult some of the creek crossing were. Up here in New England, our rocky terrain helps hold the shorelines in many areas. Out west, the water has it’s way and cuts deep into the soil causing very steep ingress and egress from many of the tributaries. And the wind! The constant wind. And, the lack of trees. How they dealt with the wind and the lack of fuel for warmth. I wanted to pick up some Buffalo chips in Yellowstone, but sadly, didn’t.
Our first night on our exploration was spent at the Weaver Hotel. https://www.theweaverhotel.com/ We stayed in the Benfield/McAtee room. Cozy, clean and this hotel is absolutely delightful, run by the most amazing group of volunteers. I had my favorite, not normally allowed on my menu, of Biscuits and Gravy for breakfast. Best ever!!! Wanted seconds, but the determination to not increase my waistline prevented it.
The night before the Weaver people recommended we go up to Marysville for dinner, it was getting late by the time we got to the area and many places were closed. It was, being mid September, also the end of the summer season. Marysville was about 12 miles North of Waterville, and a beautiful town, the main street is brick. It is renowned as a Pony Express stop. The Museum, which we checked out the following day, was well worth our stop.
photo courtesy of Marysville website.
Dinner in Marysville was the beginning of my Buffalo and Elk eating, and Sarge’s bread pudding obsession, served at every restaurant we stopped in along the way.
An overheard conversation hit home, as my son looks to buy a house in Boston. Two 30 somethings were discussing the fact that they bought their properties from their parents and were in the process of fixing them to their tastes. One, a contractor was telling the other, our waitress, that they had been working on their farm for 6 years and still are not done, but, they did not want to borrow any money so were doing it pay as you go. The waitress agreed and appreciated the time line, she was thinking she and her husband were progressing slower than they should. Try getting a house in New England without taking out a mortgage!
The Pony Express museum was very interesting. They even had a McCormick Reaper (Sarge’s family heritage). The tour guide was very hard of hearing and had her spiel. Not to be interrupted, but helpful when we asked to buy an Oregon trail map, post card, insulated coffee mug and a T shirt for a friend.
From Marysville, we headed North West to Alcove Springs. We wandered down some dirt roads, following our google directions.
This house is so worthy of restoration.
The area around the spring is a well used park with trails and picnic areas. Picnic areas are set up right where the wagons used to stop. I wonder if there are any ghosts?
Kansas Historical Markers were awesome.
We walked back to the spring, unfortunately, drought made the water trickle, but it was a time warp. Initials carved in rocks. Old Cottonwoods who were probably youngsters when the wagons came through. My vivid imagination saw the wagons, the people, the animals all taking a breather in the beautiful surroundings. Here is a smattering of photos I took. Imagine hundreds of brave pioneers enjoying a moment of respite before they take on the challenging trip again. A trip that many would not complete.
A lot of Kansas was like this. Hence, many happy cows.
Water wasn’t running this day.
Many left their marks in the rocks and trees. I did not see any of the tree markings, but here are some of the carvings. I wonder where these people settled?
We tried to stop at as many markers as we could. I learned a lot and will be utilizing The Kansas Historical Society website often as I work on my book. My grandmother lived in Kansas City in the late 1800’s. Who knows what I might find out!
Drought ridden NH and thirsty potted flowers require innovation. Hence, there are tubs of water around the barn and studio. Four digging dogs, two of whom are renowned for partipation in mikicc.org, require gardening in pots.
The tubs, note blue one by cottage, gather what little moisture has fallen and, as a side benefit catches an occasional destructive rodent.
A peek, on my way to do some writing, was in time to see a deep diving chipmunk. The little creature’s antics would have led one to believe it was Esther Williams reincarnated. There is no way to know the reaction, had it been rat, or mouse, but as a softie, even a furniture wrecking vermin, would probably been saved.
As the saved water was, unsaved, on a stand of low growing blueberries, which thrive just outside the dog fence, the little creature took a surf, onto the turf. And there it lay.
But, it was breathing! How does one do CPR on a drowning Chippie? The little body lay prostrate, no movement, except little puffs and the occasional sigh.
What must that poor thing have been thinking ?
All it wanted was a drought induced sip of water. And now, a deep dive, followed by a Niagara falls exit, and a vicious human starring down. “My parents warned me about humans. Have I survived the water, to be done in by a shovel?” No little Chippie, not by this human. And by the way didnt you notice the water bowl next to the tub?
I eased the soggy mess from leaves to dry box and placed it in the sun to dry. It was still gasping for air.
Perhaps, by picking it up by its tail, the water might pour out of its little lungs? Worth a try. Hoping not to get bitten, a pinch of the tail raises the unresponsive body a few inches above the cardboard box. And SH###T!!! The cute little tail ended up in my fingers. Now the semi drowned Chip is also blessed with a boney, hairless tail and unceremoniously plopped back into the box. At least if it survives it will be easily identified.
More watching, a little water had in fact dripped out with the pick-up. A bit of shifting to keep the box in the sun. The tiny feet moved! The beady eye blinked! Chores needed to be done. On your own little one. Another twitch. Another blink. A bit of a wiggle, and a still soggy chipmunk 🐿 staggered into the woods . As I walked to the barn, the loud, obnoxious chipmunk chirp reverberated. Was that a “Thank-you” or a “What did you do to my tail?” Do chipmunks have a repertoire of expletives?
In times of Covid isolation, we seem to turn to digging through old photos. Facebook is full of our pasts. Are we searching for a better time?
High School graduation. I am second from the left. Never could be serious. Feel free to tag yourselves.
In so digging, I came upon a theme book. For those of you who are old enough to have suffered them:
much the worse for wear after 50years
Since I can remember, I have been a writer. Looking back on my 13 year old self and some of my stories, I was both amused and chagrined by my talent, or lack thereof. My wonderful Creative Writing teacher, Mrs. McCawley, commented on one; regarding the true narrative of surviving Hurricane Carol on a small island off the CT coast; “It could be more realistic.” My brother and I got a kick out of that. (I got a C+)
“Punctuation? Comma rule on compound sentences?” (B but the story wasn’t that good.)
Still love a good fairy story. And, as my friend Kit Brown, renowned English teacher and book editor would note: Punctuation is still not my forte.
But content isn’t what got me pondering. My crazy 8th grade hand writing did. Could I analyze my back and forth, inconsistent writing and learn a bit about my 13 year old self? Curiosity sent me searching for information. I
Sadly I must confess the following has dogged me my whole life:
” left-slanters run everything they experience through a filter. They are internally on the alert and asking, though not consciously, ‘How does this affect me?’ Pay attention how they express themselves. They may say, “Well, in my experience…” and then go on to relate how that connects to what is being discussed… and then tie themselves into how it personally relates. “
Mrs.McCawley, wielder of the red pen. Evidence of my back slanting.
Since I am conscious of this failing, through the years I have tried to overcome. My current handwriting perhaps shows improvement. However, I also find this to be incredibly true:
“Slants to the left: You tend to keep to yourself and generally like to work behind the scenes. If you are right-handed and your handwriting slants to the left, you may be expressing rebellion.“
My 13 year old self had both wide “L” loops and very narrow. Which I like to think meant I was relaxed and spontaneous in my inner self, but restricted from outside influences. Back then, my i dot was very high, which is supposed to bless me with a great imagination. Now, I don’t dot. Perhaps my imagination has gone so far as to no longer fit the analysis scale.
The shape of my letters hasn’t changed. Still rounded “you are creative andartistic”, still connected in a print script kind of way, “Logical, systematic and make decisions carefully.” Which I dispute.
Current sample of my print-script
realsimple.com informed me that the adult me, is logical and practical but guarded with my emotions. I love their analysis of my script “s”. Evidently, the 13 year old me and the 69 year old me, are still the same ambitious, intellectually probing person who likes to study new things. The fact that I now print, means I am versatile. Wow, one can always use an ego boost!
Know of any other great graphology sights? Let me know. If I can find some of my older journals, I am going to see if I like that young girl who put pencil to paper so long ago. Next I think I will try yourfonts.com and see if I can turn my handwriting into my own personal font to use here.
Be sure to like and share. I depend on all of you.
Self Employed Again 