Driving through eastern Nebraska on Interstate 80 gave me planty of time to think. The scenery is less than spectacular unless you are into endless cornfields. It was my first time being in that part of Nebraska and its easy to see why the U of Nebraska chose the Cornhusker as their mascot. On my previous travels into the state we had entered from the western side. Our daughter, Mandy, was of college age and had transferred to the U of Wyoming to finish her engineering degree. Joan and I had just retired and moved to the farm in West Virginia and decided to go out and visit her. I made the mistake of suggesting a trip over to Sydney, Nebraska to visit the original Cabela’s store. Never turn two “outdoorsy” types like my wife and daughter loose with a credit card in a Cabela’s!!!

On this same visit with Mandy in Laramie we picked her up at her dorm on Saturday morning to go to breakfast. It was the fall of the year and while in the restaraunt Joan noticed a flier advertising flu shots. It was supposed to be a bad year for the flu so we all three decided to go get the shot. I mean what better way to spend part of your vacation! We asked the waitress for directions to the place and she sent us to a small complex of buildings that was actually located in the fairgrounds. Surprisingly for us when we drove in there was a somewhat long line of people ahead of us. But we really wanted the shot and had nothing else scheduled so we joined the line. I remember that as we stood there and chatted I noticed that many of the others in line were rather shabbily dressed. Dusty cowboy boots run down at the heel, frayed jeans, flannel shirts with maybe an elbow protruding. But I figured that these were just hardworking ranch hands who had just finished the morning chores with the horses and cows, and, like me, were interested in avoiding getting sick with the flu. Finally we reached the head of the line and the people at the table started asking us what kind of cheese we wanted, yellow American or white American, and did we prefer smooth or crunchy peanut butter. When I explained that we did not want any of that stuff, but just our flu shots they told me we were in the wrong line. This was the Department of Welfare giving away free cheese, and we wanted the Health Department next door. So we hung our heads and headed next door, embarassed but at least the line was a lot shorter.

Eastern South Dakota was much like eastern Nebraska, but western South Dakota offers much in the way of unique and spectacular scenery as does western North Dakota. In South Dakota we visited Badlands National Park, Wind Cave National Park, Jewel Cave National Monument and Mt Rushmore National Monument. We also visited the Minuteman Missle National Monument which tells a great story of the Cold War period. While not a national park or national monument the Crazy Horse monument is a private endeavor that has turned down federal funding on several occasions to remain independent. Custer State Park near Custer, SD is certainly worth a visit. While there we saw not only the natural beauty of the terrain, but wild buffalo, mule deer, bighorn sheep, and praire dogs all in their natural habitat.

After leaving South Dakota our plan was to go into northeastern Wyoming to see Devil’s Tower National Monument. However, that did not work out, and we ended up on the road to North Dakota. Our objective there was to visit both the North and South units of Theodore Roosevelt National Park and we accomplished that today. Just like Custer State Park in South Dakota, both units of Theodore Roosevelt NP are full of buffalo.

Finally, the trip up through Nebraska, South Dakota and into North Dakota was a minor irritation due to the highways. For reasons I would never understand the engineers have evidently decided to put an expansion joint in the road every 50 to 75 feet. This was essentially true on all of the roads in the three states except the interstate highways. The pavement on each side of the joint tends to settle, leaving a bump at each joint. Driving either the WildaBeast or the car on these roads makes for a bumpy ride. Wilda is full of stuff like pots and pans that rattle at each bump. I believe that when Teddy Roosevelt first came to this area he must have followed the same route that we have followed on these roads. My theory is that this is the reason that he and his gang were referred to as the Rough Riders.

Now its on to Montana and a long haul all the way across the Big Sky state to reach Glacier National Park before we finally head into Canada.

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After several days of delays in Houston waiting first for the refrigerator to be fixed and then for me to recover from a stomach bug that my daughter graciously shared with me we headed north.  But one final delay near Houston was required and that was to get the Lovebugs washed off of poor Wilda.  I had never heard of lovebugs until I moved to Florida, so for you other northerners I’ll try to explain.  Lovebugs remind me of lightning bugs or fireflies but without the light.  During the act of reproduction (or so I’m told) they get stuck together like dogs, but still manage to fly around that way.  My theory is that they prefer to have sex at an elevation of roughly three to twelve feet in the air and always over a major highway.  A couple of times each year swarms of them will be airborne and it is amazing how many of them can accumulate on a 900 mile drive at 65 miles per hour on that roughly 9 X 12′ rectangle that is Wilda’s front end.  And even the uncoupled few that get hit always seem to have a satisfied smile on their faces.  But I digress—back to the journey.

The particular bay of the truck wash that I pulled into was manned by a couple of very nice good ole Texas boys.  As they worked with the brushes and pressure sprayers, and I watched, we chatted.  They explained that they were brothers and I could certainly see the resemblance.  I also noticed that they seemed to have about three teeth between the two of them.  But Wilda came out spotless and we were ready to move on.

With the late start out of Houston we just made it to the first exit on the interstate in Oklahoma and stayed in a casino affiliated campground operated by the Chickasaw Indian Nation.  A very nice facility and they said since we had never been there before our first night was free.  I am really fond of free.  Usually in that situation we would drop a roll of quarters in the  casino slots and have dinner in the casino.  But this night we were both tired and decided to dine at “home” on my favorite health food, Spam sandwiches.

We passed through the rest of Oklahoma without incident and spent the next night near Wichita, Kansas.  During the night a southwest wind kicked up and in Kansas there’s not much besides cows and wheat-fields to stop the wind.  It continued to blow at about 35 miles per hour the next day as we drove northeast to Kansas City with even higher gusts.  Driving the WildaBeast with winds of that force hitting the side is a harrowing experience and a ton of work to keep her on the road.  We were glad it was a short ride that day to stop and see our old friends from West Virginia who now live in KC.  However, while visiting them we discovered that the refrigerator was still not working properly.  This repair entailed another delay of two more days.

This morning we finally hit the road and passed out of Kansas and into Missouri, Iowa and Nebraska in short order.  With no offense to family and friends we now feel that after being away from home for over two weeks the real Alaska journey has now begun.  No more visiting.  We are heading for the Dakotas.  Stops are planned in The Badlands, Black Hills, Mt Rushmore, Crazy Horse, and anything else we see along the way that catches our fancy.

Joan and I have always enjoyed traveling.  However, unlike many of our friends we really do prefer driving to other modes of transportation.  It gives us the freedom to follow whatever schedule we choose and to make whatever detours appeal to us as we see things that sound interesting along the way.  So, with that in mind, last year we bought a motorhome.  We have always enjoyed camping, but did it in tents often carried several miles in a backpack to achieve that “true outdoor experience”.  Many many times when we were in our 20’s, 30’s and 40’s we have made fun of the old white haired geezers driving these behemoths and questioned why they would even bother to leave home in such a contraption.  But now in our 60’s the idea of sleeping on the ground, crawling out of a sleeping bag and going outside to find someplace to pee in the middle of the night just does not hold the appeal for the old bodies any longer.  I guess we’ve gotten soft (and definitely old).

After talking endlessly it seems about driving to Alaska in the motorhome (nicknamed WildaBeast or just Wilda for short) we finally departed from Ponce Inlet on May 6.  We have nine month old twin grandchildren in Houston, Texas and wanted to get one more dose of them before really leaving for the summer long journey, so that was our first destination.  As we pulled out all of my tennis playing friends were out on the courts of our condo complex for the usual Tue/Thur/Sat mixed doubles and gave us a rousing sendoff with a group wave of their racquets.  This was the highlight of the first day and things went downhill from there.  Shortly into the drive the refrigerator started beeping and flashing a message that it was not cooling.  We moved the few items into the little auxiliary cooler and kept on trucking.  The end of the first day found us near Pensacola, Florida and tired.  It also found us in a campground where we discovered after getting all set up for the night that the electricity in the campground was not working.  We also discovered that that little cooler worked a lot better than we expected since everything inside was now frozen solid.  If you have not experienced frozen hard boiled eggs I do not recommend them.  Not really wanting to move on this late in the day we made the best of it that night with our generator power.  Days two and three were rather uneventful, except that at the end of day three upon arrival at our daughter’s family’s home in Houston our towed car battery was DOA.  Ford has since replaced that with a new one and Wilda has headed for the refrigerator repair shop.  The visit to Houston was just to be for a few days, but evidently parts for motorhome refrigerators are not so readily available as home refrigerator parts.  So, already that need for a flexible schedule has kicked in.  And while we are chomping at the bit to get back on the road, there could be worse things than spending a little extra time with the grandbabies.