Category: Travels

No Name Lake, Glacier National Park

The Mountains Are Calling And I Must Go

John Muir

I have a T-shirt printed with that quote. Mine is Yellow Haze. I think of it often when I think of the mountains – which is also often.

Last week included a little change up when I joined my next door neighbor in front of his garage for a chat, instead of at my place. We were discussing fishing in the pond across the street and how the Iowa DNR stocks it with trout. That led the conversation to the trout farms and streams in NE Iowa, which ultimately led to one of my favorite fishing stories; trout fishing at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park Google Earth View. Be sure to zoom out to see it in the mountain context!

Our itinerary was simple and would not extend us too far physically. Just a few days backcountry to No Name and Old Man lakes. It was not the first time for Old Man, but would be a new route coming from the south rather than the east. And though the story is primarily about an afternoon of fishing, it does include interesting accounts from the rest of the trek.

Red circle around Continental Divide Trail which we were on from Pitamakan Pass on
An aerial view from Google Earth

Leaving the campground at Two Medicine Lake we headed west along the north side of the lake where, after about four miles, we veered toward the north side of Pumpelly Pillar heading for No Name Lake.

Heading west toward Pumpelly Pillar and No Name Lake – Photo by KAJ

We enjoyed the campground that afternoon and evening, wandering around on the rocks at the head of the lake near the snow pack and investigating the lake. My son had a close encounter with a yearling black bear while fetching water from the incoming stream. It decided to climb from a tree within a few yards of him. Quite a shock; something he will never forget, but no worse for the experience. Others saw the bear around the grounds that evening and, of course, we kept vigil basically all night. I snapped one of my favorite backcountry pics from the west side (head) of the lake as the sun was setting behind the mountains.

I would be fishing from this spot the following day – Photo by KAJ

An uneventful night woke to a glorious morning in the backcountry. After breakfast we grabbed our four-piece fly rods, reels, and gear, and headed for the lake. Getting around along the shore was no easy matter, with downed trees, rocks, and, worst of all, slippery rocks in the water. Understand that the snow pack feeding this lake was merely a hundred yards from the shore. But we waded in wearing shorts and water shoes, into the nearly freezing water in hopes of a catch.

We were not disappointed! It didn’t take long for either of us to catch our first trout. And they just kept coming. Many were in the 8″ to 10″ range, with some smaller and a couple larger. We realized there was a shelf about 25 yards from shore where the trout would lay wait in the deeps and see the flies near the edge. For them, an apparent feast. For us, pure delight!

I didn’t have my camera with me in the water, so no pics. But we spent several hours wading and catching and releasing the rainbow beauties. Whether we ignored the cold assaulting our legs, or they went numb didn’t matter as we cast our lines over and over, stripping them in with another fish attached. Neither of us realized how sunburnt we got, nor that we hadn’t eaten in hours. It’s difficult to express our continued excitement and delight. But those who know me will understand that we caught so many trout that I didn’t even count them. That, in itself, is testament to the fun we had! It didn’t matter that we didn’t keep any fish nor cook them that evening over an open fire. We had a once-in-a-life experience that we will never forget.

On to Old Man Lake

Stay tuned next week for part two of our 2015 No Name Lake / Old Man Lake Glacier segment.

Writer’s Block!

Cliche? I suppose. But descriptive none-the-less. Many ideas crisscross in my mind, flitting this way and that. Some just disappear. Others, I summarily dismiss. I could use the excuse that I was traveling last week and didn’t have time to write. But that would be only partially true. Truer still is that I couldn’t even decide on a topic.

I could write about my trip to Atlanta to visit family and help around the house while my sister recuperated from her surgery. The visit was good. My sister came through great. It was a nice visit. But I don’t feel like discoursing our interactions or daily activities while I was there. I did get to see Oppenheimer with two of my sisters. That was a special time to share together. Good movie.

I thought about laying out my thoughts about bacon, kinds, types, flavors, and how I missed it while away. I have a couple slices nearly every morning at home. We discussed bacon at the dinner table one evening. The topic of beef bacon came up. Click the link if you are interested. Personally, I prefer “real” bacon. My favorite is Hormel Black Label Cherrywood Thick Cut. I buy it a dozen at a time at Menard’s when they have it. I could go on with this topic, but don’t deem it worthy of more.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a new normal, hoping for extended emotional stability, enough so that I recognize various phases, ups and downs; consistency, rather than in throws. But I haven’t found it yet. Maybe I’ll be able to write about that when I recognize it – if it is found. Meanwhile, I am still day by day, not dwelling too much on the past nor looking too far into the future. Both directions give rise to discomfort that I can only tolerate in small portions.

Not only am I rambling because I don’t have clear direction, but I am reverting to the dreaded “I” at the beginning of my paragraphs. Yep. Take a look. And though I am hard on myself for being egocentric and unworthy of praise, I continue to receive compliments for looking good (maybe for my age?), for my efforts to help others, and the gift of music and song. But knowing myself, I have to downplay the accolades because they feed my egocentricity. Kind of a vicious circle. I do, however, appreciate others’ kind words, and know that without them, I would probably be very depressed in deed!

So, even with writer’s block, I managed to write 419 words leading up to this paragraph. I guess it means that the title is apt. I wrote about a bunch of unrelated thoughts because I have no other clear topic.

Well, hopefully next week. I did hear from some readers who wondered if I would have a post since the normal Saturday deadline had come and gone. Even knowing that my no-posts are missed, makes me feel a little better. Now I’m off to get back in the groove. Search for topics gleaned from my daily life.

More musings of a wandering mind.

Have a great week.

Caregiver vs. Caretaker

(Not to be confused with undertaker.)

From my reading, it appears that the differences between a caregiver and a caretaker are subtle. Two significant differences are that a caretaker’s charge might be an animal or a building rather than a person, and that the caretaker expects to be compensated for their efforts.

Both caregivers and caretakers aid people needing assistance with daily tasks, from doing laundry and preparing meals, to personal hygiene and grooming needs. But the caregiver is typically more emotionally invested, expecting no reward, than the caretaker who’s primary motivation is their own need, i.e. monetary compensation. This is not to say that caretakers are not caring or empathetic, nor emotionally attached to their charges. Nor is it true that caregivers are never compensated. Thus continue the subtle differences between the two. In fact, the two terms are often used interchangeably.

Distinguishing between the two became a topic of conversation for my sister and me during my recent visit to Atlanta. She IS my Mother’s caregiver, having taken her into her home over four years ago. My sister needed a medical procedure that required a recuperation period in which she could not lift or twist her upper body. And though her husband often assists with daily responsibilities, and our sister provides weekly respite relief, they also work and are unable to be “on call” for daily tasks.

And so I offered to help out. Shortly after my arrival, I began relearning the routine implemented to provide for my Mother’s needs. I would execute it while my sister and her husband were away. So when the day arrived I got up early to ensure that breakfast was on the table just so, and I was ready to help with her inhaler.

As the day progressed, I realized I had transitioned seamlessly and nearly effortlessly back into the caregiver role I learned while caring for my late wife, Pam. Seamless because I only realized it later in the day. Nearly effortless in that Mom’s needs are different than Pam’s, and my sister’s home is laid out differently and the kitchen configured differently than my home. Otherwise, my demeanor, and the methods I employed to care for my Mother, came back naturally.

Reflecting, later, on this transformation, I made two observations. First, I learned valuable skills while caring for Pam that I could use to assist others as a part-time caregiver/caretaker if I so choose. Second, I have neither the desire nor will to be a full-time caregiver again.

As I revisit the caregiver role, and observe and talk with my sister, I am reminded of the emotional and physical toll being a 24/7 caregiver takes. One truly has to put another’s needs about one’s own, even potentially at physical and emotional detriment.

My sister’s procedure was successful and without incident. I continue to assist with Mom’s care, and also with helping my sister do those tasks she should not be performing while recuperating.

I am thankful that my sister’s procedure went well. I am thankful to have the opportunity to step in when her physical need could not be delayed – could not be ranked below Mom’s care. I am thankful for the knowledge, wisdom, and compassion I learned while caring for Pam, though I wish it had not been necessary! But I also realize that if someone close to me has need, I could and would transition back into a caregiver role with little or no hesitation.

Windmill Choreography

A brief history of windmills

Images of windmills through history

A list of popular/famous windmills includes two in Pella Iowa.

I’ve been traveling a lot over the past few months. It seems nearly everywhere I go where there is flat land or vast rolling hills, there are modern windmills standing like sentinels along highways and byways. Some are near, some far, often in line, dotting the countryside and farmlands. Some are still, their blades turned away from the wind. Others’ blades rotate with the prevailing winds and breezes. I remember counting water-pumping windmills on farms as our family was sardined into the family station wagon between Kansas and Iowa. Just one of the many road games we played to keep occupied.

Heading east on I-80 through Iowa last week I passed a wind farm (a loose term) spread over miles of farmland adjacent to the highway. For some reason I took note of how different the individual towers reacted to the wind that powers them. Though it would seem they should all be facing the same direction and rotate at nearly the same speed, that was not the case. Not including those whose blades turned away from the wind, others, even in line, rotated at different speeds, some with blades facing different directions. Man-made machines dancing with the wind. Inanimate objects led by one of nature’s most powerful forces, creating a unique choreography between man and our mother earth. Cruising the county roads on my recumbent cycle years ago, I was able to get close to some of these towering generators, close enough to hear the whoosh of their blades cutting through the air. Another unique aspect of the dance between technology and nature.

Having decided on this week’s topic over a week ago, I set out on an off-paved-road adventure on Tuesday. I knew approximately where the aforementioned wind farm is, and retraced my path, this time using county roads rather than interstate. Eventually, I came upon one of the giants near Marengo.

Onto the rural gravel road I ventured, heading west into farmland dotted with towering fans watching over crops and farmsteads.

LOVE THIS PIC!

A gorgeous Iowa summer day only enhanced the experience of chasing the perfect view of these 300 foot stalks, large enough at the base to hold a family vehicle, tall enough to carry three, 200 foot blades each.

Can you see them all? And what’s up with these four in the foreground, facing different directions and turning at different speeds?

Looking east. The prevailing breeze from the west. I had to wait for the road dust to clear before taking this pic.

Speaking of choreography, look at those two in the distance. They were probably about a quarter of a mile apart and spinning at different rates and sequence.

It is difficult to capture the majesty of these giant turbines, stabbing the summer sky while watching over the August corn, disturbing neither man nor animal.

I was unable to get too close without trespassing. I hoped to hear the whoosh of the blades. Try it. Turn up the volume while watching. Hear the birds?

What man made to ease our reliance on fossil fuels, wind choreographs a dance and a song. I may be treading on my political safety net, but doesn’t it seem logical to gather energy from less toxic natural sources like wind and sun? Iowa is among the top three wind produced energy states in the nation. Though I don’t have much to cheer about Iowa these days, I am proud of this achievement. I am aware, however, that there are still challenges recycling blades, etc. Hopefully, our free-market economy will find a way to make it financially viable to do so.

Existing amongst these man-made giants is not quite like the swaying of branches or the rustling of leaves, but seeing them from the highways and byways is a treat. I am happy to share this positive experience with you, contrasting emotional challenges I typically convey. I hope you, too, enjoy. Maybe you can take a road trip of your own to visit some rural areas near you and experience some positive coexistence between man and nature, like – windmill choreography.

P. S. I had the opportunity to drive past the decommissioned Duane Arnold Nuclear Power Plant near Palo IA the other day. I hoped to snap a pic of the cooling towers to contrast with the windmills. Unfortunately, those have been demolished. Only an exhaust chimney remains. I think the property is being transformed into a solar energy farm. And yet, there were signs along the county road with the words “Commercial Wind Farm” and a 🚫over the top of them. Okay. I get no pipelines, nukes, coal, even natural gas. But what’s wrong with wind and solar?

Debut

Tomorrow, I will fulfill a commitment I made a year ago to prepare my music and play in public, when I perform up to 24 original songs at the church where Pam and I met and married. I didn’t realize at the time, about a month after she died, that following through on a dream of performing publicly while traveling around Iowa and beyond, would become such an important part of my grief journey.

Pam and I loved to drive the back roads to towns and eating establishments. We hoped it would be a significant aspect of our retirement. Fun travels. And I would ask hosts and barkeeps if I might sit in a corner and play. With Pam’s passing, I decided to keep the dream alive.

I’ve been working/playing nearly every day for a year leading up to this point. Tomorrow is my debut. I’m not sure where I go from here, but I’m working on new goals like recording the rest of my current play list, as well as polishing another group of songs that have been on a back burner for years. Playing at open mics will help keep sharp what I have been working so hard to develop.

Attempting to share more of me through my music, I have updated my Songs page to include all of the songs from Catching Up on Life, recorded in 2013. Hopefully, that page will grow significantly over the next few weeks/months as I record more of my current repertoire.

This is a bittersweet occasion. So many memories, hopes, emotions, challenges, and now, fulfilment. My love, Pam, made this all possible. She listened (probably more than she wanted). She encouraged. She dreamed along with me. She allowed me to be me. Even in death Pam’s love for me, and mine for her, helped me get through the roughest times and begin to create a future for me, without her. A future that still includes her through memories and songs. Songs of love and affection about and to her.

I will play on. For Pam. For me. To share with all of you who might listen. I am humbled and hopeful.

Another Milestone and More to Come

Today, July 27th, is the 365th day of reading Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman. It is the “last” page for me since one can begin any day and continue for a year. I have been partaking of this ritual faithfully for the past year, even before my first cup of coffee, as I have wanted to get my head and heart around my feelings and the challenges of each day of grief and rebuilding my life.

Before opening the book today, I suggested to myself that it will be interesting to find out if it would contain something profoundly pertinent to this day, or only another encouraging message to help me get through the day, and the year. I am quoting the page in its entirety below:

The quote

Since her grief had brought her fully to birth and wakefulness in this world, an unstinting passion had moved in her, like a live stream flowing deep underground, by which she knew herself and others and the world.

Wendell Berry

The Message

It is a difficult birth – this coming into full wakefulness through grief – and not everyone comes out ennobled. But since the rewards of doing it well are as multitudinous as the stars in the sky, it behooves us to do whatever we can to come through well.

What may it take? Attention to our own needs, our state of mind. Reading. Rest. A willingness to be vulnerable again. Counseling, maybe. Talking with understanding friends. For some, prayer, meditation, participation in a healing community.

What we can be sure of is that we will be different. Whether we will be embittered and sad or compassionate and, in a deep sense, happy is not totally within our power to decide. But the outcome may be more within our power than we think. Like any birth, it has its pains and dangers. But it is new life at stake here – new life!

Marth W. Hickman

The Thought

I will use all the power I possess to come through this well.

Martha W. Hickman

This message encapsulates how I have spent all of my energy this past year (plus). These things I have done, in one form or another. I am confident that I will not be embittered but rather I feel renewed compassion for people, all of whom have their griefs and challenges to bear and come through. And though the pains and dangers still arise, I look forward to my new life, though a life without Pam, knowing she is always with me in my heart and that this is what she would want for me.

Thank you Martha Hickman (now deceased), for grounding me with your daily messages, walking with me along this arduous path through loss and grief. I am putting your book aside for now, knowing that it will be there any day of the year I need it as an anchor for my soul.

Pam’s 72nd Birthday is Tuesday, July 11th (I used to call it lucky 7/11). I am celebrating by playing my first “concert” at our home church in Northern Iowa on Sunday the 9th, a milestone in my commitment to Pam and me. It will be followed by a celebration for Pam’s Birthday with family. A celebration of Pam’s life. A celebration also of survival, of coming through.

California – Not a Bust – The Long, But Enjoyable Trip Home

(The third in this 3-part series to chronicle my recent trip)

Traveling down the interior west of California was less stressful than expected. My B-I-L and I worked out a route that kept me away from major cities like LA. I whizzed past vineyards and fruit farms, and on through desert, mountains, and hills, though most of the trip was through flatlands.

I eventually arriving for a visit with my niece in Palm Desert. We had a great evening catching up on our lives and drinking wine while watching the sun set over the mountains from her balcony. She enjoys the view every evening. Thank you, Mindy, for being – you, and for sharing your new life and hospitality with me. Too much fun!

On toward my next destination, a visit with Pam’s brother in Chandler, AZ. But not before a side trip to Joshua Tree National Park. This was a scheduled stop I planned when I realized that it was only a short distance out of the way to AZ. Though I hadn’t planned to stop for long, I decided to drive through the park, and am so happy I did.

Pictures don’t adequately convey the vastness of space punctuated by hundreds, even thousands, of Joshua Trees, which are actually more cactus than tree. The rock formations were an added bonus. Rock climbers frequent the craggy uprisings. There is even one called Skull Rock for obvious reasons. I did not stop for a close up as there was a crowd and I wanted to get through the park. But this is well worth the visit if you are in the general area.

Exiting the park, I was at the east end of Twenty-nine Palms, CA. I turned right and immediately came upon a sign saying “No Services Next 108 Miles.” Into the desert I went. I kept thinking about how Hotlanta insisted I bring plenty of water on the trip – just in case. Fortunately, I didn’t need it, as my trusty Honda steed performed faithfully and fluently through the gradual rises and falls across the desert landscape. And what a landscape! Broken up only by distant mountains, the paved road I was on and often could see for many miles ahead, a few named, sandy roads that darted either left or right into the tumbleweed leading to humble trailers and shacks, dwellings of those who dared challenge the harsh desert environment. On to Phoenix. Too much fun!

My brother-in-law, Dave, and I developed a connection last year during the last days of Pam’s time alive on this earth. I’m not sure if it is our artistic affinity, our place in line as third of four siblings, or just our similar natures. Whatever it is, I appreciate him and am happy to have had the opportunity to visit him in his home and hang out for an extra stopover day.

Mexican food was finally on the menu. I’d been in the southwest for nearly a week and had yet to sample this cuisine. Dave took me to a couple places having different atmosphere and menus. Thank you, Dave!

Between eating and sleeping we found time to work on a 1,500 piece jigsaw puzzle (are you done yet, Dave?) and enjoyed a hot, rocky hike up the Telegraph Pass Trail, southwest of the city. Though a bit of a challenge, we enjoyed the outdoors, exercise, and companionship afforded to those who make the journey.

That’s a tall cactus in the distance on the ridge
We started at the level of those buildings, around the mountain to the right. Dave catching a bit of the little available shade

My time with Dave was yet another in a list of highlights I experienced during this cross-country trip. I appreciate just being in good company doing things we enjoy together. What a gift! Too much fun!

Traveling on toward my next layover in Santa Fe included an unexpected side trip to Petrified Forest National Park, a remote exit along I-40 in the middle of the desert. I enjoyed browsing the visitor center and gift shop, viewing (and touching) the exhibits, and adding several shot glasses to my collection. Unfortunately, the most interesting natural displays of petrified trees are near the south end of a 26-mile drive with no way back to the interstate except by backtracking. My daily trek was too long to afford the time, so on I drove. My stay in Santa Fe was short and uneventful.

On to Kearney, Nebraska. Another beautiful, windy, undulating drive through the mountains poured me out to the rolling plains of southeast Colorado. Sadly leaving the mountains behind, I left the interstate, taking state highways through NW Kansas and up into southern Nebraska. Four states in one day.

I could see billowing, cauliflower clouds building far in the distance in the direction I was going. Technology has its place and came in handy as I opened my weather app, flipping back and fourth between it and my route in Google Maps. This led to a series of route changes keeping me west of the storms. Unfortunately, they were directly over the Kearney area. I couldn’t avoid them forever. Fortunately, I went through only a few miles of downpour on I-80 as I approached Kearney from the west. The rain was over by the time I got there and it didn’t rain again until the overnight hours.

The mad dash home with cloudy skies and the final 471 miles ahead. I caught the heavy rain again in Lincoln as, in my mind, I barreled onward toward home. It was time. Unfortunately, traffic from Omaha east was heavy, especially for a Saturday, with the unavoidable road construction and semis passing semis, which actually caused more delay than all of the construction I encountered. I just want to get home!

And, of course, I did. The end of one of the best trips I’ve had in a while. Partly for what I didn’t experience along with the good times I did. I didn’t experience constant sorrow, nor the need to be home, nor the constant pain of missing Pam, she not being able to share the trip with me, nor even the ability to call and tell her about it. Yes, I did feel those things along the way. My thoughts and emotions are still sore, but healing. I am sad that life has to be this way. But I am glad that life goes on. And, so far, with me a part of it.

Thank you, Hotlanta, for taking the initiative to make this happen. I know it was good for all of us. And it was – too much fun!

California – Not a Bust – California Dreamin’

(The second in this 3-part series to chronicle my recent trip. Just a short post)

Though the drive was mostly enjoyable, the vacation really began upon arrival at California Dreamin’s house. Once I parked the car at the motel, Hotlanta and I didn’t have to do anything the entire time we were there (except me playing music). OMG! A real vacation. What’s up with that?! Snacks, drinks, open air, patio with a view! Ah.

Within a couple hours, travel snacks ingested, we were strolling along Seacliff State Beach in Aptos. The beach and campground sustained significant damage from winter storms, destroying the pier and further sinking the ship which lays prostrate just off the shoreline. But the weather was clear and “warm”, the air hinting of salt, and the sounds of the waves rolling up on the sand. After more food, drink, and live music – me – we retired for the day. Too much fun!

With California Dreamin’ and her husband as travel guides, we ventured into the “country” for a hike in the woods on day two. Another beautiful day in the hills with plenty to gawk at including a redwood stand and a mighty Eucalyptus, both for which I lay in the path to take the shots. I even talked to the trees, thanking them for – being. Too much fun!

More food, drink, and music – the second day.

Happy Birthday, California Dreamin’! With more family joining in, we celebrated with balloons and decorations, gifts, and of course, food, drink, and music. The party continues – the third day.

Our last day with California Dreamin’ was pretty much rinse and repeat with even more family to see and share in the festivities. We had such a great time catching up with everyone.

As you would expect, the time went too fast, much of it just talking, munching, and feeling like family. It is wonderful to have healthy, happy relationships with siblings (all of them!) and their families – the fourth day. Too much fun!

Though this leg of the journey was most important and enjoyable, I won’t go into detail about our family interactions, making this the shortest of the three related posts. I’m sure you understand.

Stay tuned for part three of California – Not a Bust posting on Monday, June 26th

California – Not a Bust – Too Much Fun!

This is the first of three posts for “California – Not a Bust” chronicling my trip to CA for my sister’s birthday. These posts will publish on successive days beginning Saturday, June 24, 2023.

Why Trip Out?!

My California Dreamin’ sister just celebrated a milestone birthday. My Hotlanta sister wanted to be there for the celebration. I chose to go to satisfy birthday wishes for both. Hotlanta’s birthday falls on the anniversary of Pam’s death, May 12th. I wanted to give her a special gift so that she knows that I totally differentiate the two events. Making the trip was a win, win, win for the three of us and we got to see several family members as a bonus!

Getting there was fun – but not even half!

Planning well in advance reduces travel stress. But I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived in Sidney, NE the first evening to find that there were no rooms available anywhere close. Glad I had a reservation! It turns out that a matriarch of the Cabela family died a few days prior. The funeral was scheduled for the next day, but the viewing and Wake began the evening I arrived. I thought it was funny seeing several men in black suits, white shirts, and skinny black ties come out of the motel as I was entering. Lots of hustle and bustle inside.

Mary Cabela was one of Cabela’s’ founders. The Cabela family is from the area and is large. Apparently the motels were packed with extended family, friends, and probably a host of loyal customers.

My son and I were in the original Sidney Cabela’s in 2002. It was a sprawling one-story structure that looked like a strip mall on the outside, and a maze of rooms with various “departments” of sporting goods of nearly all types spread throughout. Cabela’s has since sold to Bass Pro Shops.

Day two brought a nearly immediate smile as the topography quickly changed to bluffs and pastures west of Sidney. The flats of eastern Nebraska faded in my rear view as I rose further above sea level, viewing small flocks of prong-horn amongst grazing cattle, some near enough to catch their gaze, others like polka dots in the distance. Too much fun!

Mountains loomed like low-level storm clouds in the distance as I approached Cheyanne, WY. Snow pack was still prevalent atop the taller ranges to the southwest. Before long I saw snow near the highway as I continued to gain altitude and began to weave my way through the rocky ranges.

To my delight, mountains surrounded me for the rest of my journey to Salt Lake City, my second stop. Wind and rain welcomed me as I traversed the city, ending up on the west side where I could see the Lake’s low water level from my motel room. Wind and rain continued into the night, the American flag in front of the building snapping so loud it woke me in the middle of the night.

The morning brought calm, sunny weather, ideal for the next leg of the journey. I drove along the south end of the lake for miles, as it transformed into salty desert landscape, flat as a table top, with mountain ranges surrounding both near and far. I didn’t realize that I was heading for the Bonneville Salt Flats until I came to the exit for the flats and the Bonneville Speedway. Though I’d traveled through here in 2006, I didn’t remember seeing them. Too much fun!

I continued west to Reno, NV through mountain passes and vast desert land, smiling the whole way. Fair weather, comfortable car, Goin’ Mobile.

I wish I could say that the entire journey to the south of the bay on day four was a pleasure. But as expected, California driving is not a California dream! Traffic picked up as I approached the state line, headed toward Sacramento. On west from there for a while then a sharp turn south toward San Jose. Traffic. Interstate parking lots for no apparent reason. Yep. Just what I expected. The one positive part of this experience was the presence of flowering shrubs and Eucalyptus trees in the medians and along the shoulders of the interstate. Unfortunately, I couldn’t gawk for fear of hitting another sardine in the tin, or the or the tin itself!

My sister chose to fly to CA, approximately nine hours door to door. I chose to drive three and a half days. We arrived at California Dreamin’s house within an hour of each other. Let the party begin!

Stay tuned for part two of California – Not a Bust posting on Sunday, June 25th

High Trestle Trail Bridge

This week’s subject was supposed to be Egocentricity. But I’m putting that on hold to recount to you my Memorial Day weekend excursion. I promise I will still be egocentric when I write about egocentricity later 😉

I had an opportunity to spend some guy time with my son Daniel last weekend. The rest of the family was visiting other relatives. As expected, we picked up just where we left off; debating the world’s problems, contemplating the origins of the universe, reminiscing about our many travels, and eating fun and fancy foods.

The rest of the family returned Monday and I enjoyed playing my music to an appreciative audience (special shout out to Claire and Ellie who listened intently for quite a while). We had fun around the yard and later, eating pizza. Unfortunately, reality intervened as they had to get ready for school and work the next day.

Tuesday was supposed to be a day to chill. But I had seen signs off the highway for the High Trestle Trail Bridge. I had always wanted to get on that bridge. But I never made it during my bike/trike riding days.

Summer of 2006 before my solo trip
My roadster – lot of miles. Lot of fun

With plenty of time on my hands I set off to find the bridge. In this case, Google Maps was not helpful. It took me to a trailhead miles away from the bridge, no matter how I phrased the location. I stopped in Polk City for directions and was sent to Madrid. Another convenience store attendant gave me good directions to the trailhead from there. 0.9 miles from there to the bridge. I finally made it.

Guitar on back, I took off across the bridge. High temperature, hot pavement, warm breeze. It was great!

A view from the middle. I could hear a heron or gull or some water foul, but I never saw it. Some interesting history of the railroad

Looking back

There is an elevated overlook just off the west end of the bridge. Turn right, walk up, and there ya go. I’ve seen the Saylorville Reservoir near here when it was filled with water from tree line to tree line.

I sat in the shade, unzipped my guitar case and began to play. Too much fun. A single cyclist ventured up to the deck, peered through the free binoculars, and left again. Play more music.

An older man on a recumbent trike rode up, dismounted and peered over the rail. He then approached me and asked if he could record my playing. His girlfriend plays flute and performs with her friend who is a harpist. I’m not sure why he thought she would find it interesting, but sure, why not.

I played about half of I Look Away, including lyrics, “when I can see what you’ve done for me…” We got to talking. He said he could relate to the lyrics in his new relationship. Not what the song is about, but that doesn’t matter. He related. Isn’t that what music and artistry is all about?! He lost his wife a year and a half ago. An aortic aneurism. Fast. It’s always interesting to find connections with people when one is willing to open up. I’m happy to have met this stranger and share some humanity with him!

I played for a bit more, then began the return trek across the bridge. Another successful, unanticipated excursion. Check this minor bucket item off the list. I made it to the bridge and back again. Sounds like another lyric or title. Hmmm…

Hope you all were able to enjoy your Memorial Day weekend as much as I. Now we look forward to new, or familiar, summer activities. Not too long until Independence Day. That is definitely one to cherish. Let’s not lose our independence. Take that however it strikes you. And thank you to all who serve and have served, both living and passed, and sacrificed!

Bear with me for another short story before I go. A few of my walking routes take me past a Frog Hollow Kids Campus, basically a large day care center. Sometimes the children are playing outside. Sometimes they wave or say hi. Sometimes I return balls and frisbees over the fence.

Yesterday as I was walking past, a boy asked “Can you honk your horn or anything?” I answered, “No, sorry.”, and walked away laughing. Kind of made my day.

As Ringo Starr would say, “Peace and Love!”