Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Homeward bound


We left Yellowstone thinking it would be a boring five day trip home. So, as Debbie browsed the possible stay-overs afforded by Harvest Host (a free overnight if you were to buy a bottle of something), the Naked Winery & Sick'n'Twisted Brewing Company leapt off the web page, blazing heated excitement from Hill City, South Dakota. There were bottles of Foreplay in the lobby wine racks, which John would have bought just for the display value in his pre-wife years.
What did you think we
were going to show you?
We both had the bartender pour us glasses of an okay porter called Panty Dropper and let us take them back to the coach that John had inserted into the one narrow slot in the back. There was a bench on which we drank our beer and a creek that played over smooth, rounded stones all night long.

First, though, we had stopped by Billings, Montana, because Debbie had found a Cabela's store right along the route. It was near a Wal-Mart and a Cracker Barrel, all convenient to I-90 and all of which allow RVs to stay the night for free, no hookups. But Cabela's also had a dump station. So we went there. This one was inoperative, however. (We since learned that the Grandville Cabela's right near home also has a dump station, but we're told that “it has not been made operative.”)  So far, then, Cabela's is less than impressive, although we have to admit that Wal-Mart does not have the fish tanks and stuffed animals.

Needing to dump our waste tanks down the road, our third Beeline Home night was spent at commercial RV camp in Mitchell, South Dakota where we broke our Eating Out Prime Directive: Eschew chains in favor of something local and new. Our home Ruby Tuesday had closed several years ago –for the love of Edesia, WHY?! and we sorely miss their salad bar. The people at the next table were talking about The Corn Palace, which both John and Debbie had heard of somewhere, some time, but had no idea what it was. Not only did the guy behind Debbie tell us, but gave directions, explained the free parking and Free Admission. He also gave us a $15 RT coupon. So, of course(!), we hopped in our Honda toad and went right over.





Mitchell, SD, floats in a sea of Midwest corn and has no real attraction except for this civic-center & basketball court. Older Grand Rapidians immediately would think of the Welsh Auditorium. The big deal here is that the decorations on the entire exterior are made of corn ears, split in half lengthwise, and lovingly glued in place. They change the design every year! And have been since 1892. Inside, walls of pictures show the histories and give fascinating details about the colors of kernels, etc. The parking really was free. And no admission charge either! John was so enchanted that he took loads of pictures and simply embarrassed Debbie with his exuberance. Hey!

There's only one Corn Palace in the entire world! When were we going to ever see it again?!







Now just two more stops before Home. One was a Harvest Host Winery –La Vida Loca is near Indianola, south of Des Moines– where the owners were preparing to depart on their own Adventure, a 500 mile long walk across Spain. But first, they allowed us some samples, then offered each of us a free glass of a really tasty white – while we sat on
their patio to watch the sun set and chat a while. John even got a tour of the operations, in the basement of this really small local winery where the owner loved and was proud of what he does.
He said they produce perhaps 5,000 bottles a year, which sounds impressive to ignorant people like us, but is drop in the ocean of wine in this country. We liked it a lot, and bought a couple bottles.

One more commercial RV park, near Oglesby, Illinois, lay between us and home. It was just a stop-over and we left relatively early, somehow avoiding all but one toll through Chicago, and didn't lose any more hubcaps on Michigan's bumpy highways. Actually, to tell the truth, we found I-196 almost smooth and we're not giving Gretchen Whitmer any credit for this; she still hasn't gotten the Legislature to agree to rob us with her huge 45-cent/gallon gas tax hike, less than two-thirds of which would pay for any road work.



Regarding the Ranger programs at the national parks:  We had been very impressed with the ones at Yellowstone in the 90's when we were traveling with the kids.  They are still very good, but we noticed some differences this time around.  In the 90's, many of the Rangers were teachers who had been working summers in that park for many years and had developed their own presentations for their particular interest.  Now, there seem to be fewer ranger-led programs, and more of the Rangers are of the younger persuasion.  When asked about it, one told us that the NPS funding has essentially been flat in more recent years.  This has resulted in fewer Rangers and fewer Ranger talks.  

Also, because the younger, seasonal Rangers are encouraged to work various parks in three-season chunks to punch their tickets in hopes of full-time positions, they arrive at a new park and are given  information that the NPS has developed rather than developing their own "lesson plans".  This explains why they all toe the party line on a number of possibly contentious ecological issues.  We did run into a number, though, who were well-educated in their fields before coming to the NPS.  For example, the ranger leading the Canyon walk at Yellowstone had a degree in geology.

A not-quite apology to our Number Two Son:  Not quite 30 years ago, when our popup camper busted an axle in Yellowstone and we were dealing with three antsy kids while waiting for UPS to bring the new one, David took it into his head to become an NPS Junior Ranger.  It really is a great little program for the kids, complete with a workbook and fun facts to be learned only first-hand and only from a real Ranger, wearing the campaign hat and all.   

David was so taken with this that he went through the workbook, laid out his demands and kept the entire family hopping around that huge park for three days while he gathered facts, leaves, animal hairs, official Ranger signatures, and other kid-compelling things. 

The program still runs, but it's more than a souvenir patch the kids earn these days.  We witnessed the graduates being sworn in, taking the repeat-after-me pledge to always protect the Park they had just learned so much about.  And these days –sorry David– Junior Rangers have the opportunity to purchase their own uniforms! The coolest multi-pocketed field vest and boonie hats, like the kind Dad's worn for decades in the woods, all in official Ranger Brown.  What doting parent would say no?    Also, for the older "kids", the NPS has taken a tip from the popularity of the online Role Playing Games like World of Warcraft, et.al.   A similar program for older teenagers and young adults sends them on Quests to become park stewards.
  

So–– WOULD WE DO IT AGAIN?

Debbie spent a total of three or four minutes home before begging, pleading, wheedling and threatening John for another trip. John is still trying to relax.

Yet, it was exciting and different and the grand open spaces out West call us for more attention. John wants to get to parts of Utah and Arizona that we missed. Recall that we blew off Colorado in the April snow and never did get back there. And by the time we were leaving Washington and Idaho, we'd run out of time to explore Canada's mountains around Jasper and Banff and whatever lay between us and them. John still wants to see Texas, too.

We already told our East Coast families to expect us, but that trip in 2020 will be far less grand than this past summer's, simply because we have been in every state east of the Mississippi River throughout our entire lives. About the only non-family attraction would be the Smithsonian, which we grew up less than a day's drive from but, somehow, never even once visited. Still, it might be good to see some places, although our trips back home have been disappointing for the amount of elbow-to-elbow crowding that's taken place.




1 comment:

  1. Oops. On the map it's Tillamook, Oregon, not Washington. I noticed because I lived there as a kid.

    ReplyDelete