Montana Amusement

Rob and I spent our first two nights in Montana in the Bitterroot National Forest outside Sula. We had looked forward to sitting outside to enjoy the pines towering over our campsite, but it was not to be. There was a plethora of annoying flies of different sizes and varieties, as well as an abundance of mosquitoes. We were thankful to have our Benadryl stick to stave off the subsequent itch and scratches. We did learn, however, that the dryer sheet method of insect repellent does work. You must rub the dryer sheet on all exposed skin. I got bit in the areas where I hadn't rubbed, like between my fingers, on my knuckles, my face and the heels of my feet. Everywhere else was bite free. Nonetheless, it was annoying enough that we took short walks in the early evening and spent the rest of the time indoors. I photographed several wildflowers and made a short video of a lovely, little, brook located just feet from our campsite, but I'm not sure I'll be able to upload it to this blog.

We arrived in Bigfork, Montana on Friday, July 5th, settled in and headed down to the Tall Pine Lounge, a bar and casino owned by our friend, and one-time neighbor, Tom Beaubien. As is typical for a business owner, Tom was busy stamping out fires, but still he gave us a bit of his time while we had a bite to eat. We looked forward to meeting Tom's wife, Janine, and a bar-be-que planned for Sunday afternoon at their house.

Our friend, Teresa Beaubien, drove down from Kalispell on Saturday to spend a couple of hours with us. We thought we'd see her again by stopping by the shop where she works on our way to Glacier National Park. We never did go as you'll soon find out why.

On Sunday afternoon, Rob and I drove over to Tom and Janine's, which is a house the two of them bought together prior to their marriage seven years ago. It is a lovely home situated in a park-like setting. As beautiful and nicely laid out as it is, I am so grateful to have my tiny, little, mobile home to clean. I remember a time when I would've loved to own a 3700 square foot home, but not now. No way, no how. The yard, however, is another story. If I could roll out Tom and Janine's yard around the Beast wherever we went, I'd be in heaven. I wish I had taken more photographs featuring the yard, but I was too busy drinking margaritas, catching up with Tom and getting to know Janine, who is a delight. I'm hoping we can visit them again on our way back to the lower 48 from Alaska next summer.

Tom and Janine were really sweet to think up a way for us to spend time together as well as have some fun. They suggested tubing down the Swan River, to which we responded with a resounding yes! So Tuesday afternoon we met with swimsuits on and sunscreen in hand, but we forgot our towels. Thank you, Janine, for providing them for us. No cameras, though. They told us not to bring anything we didn't want to get wet. A friend of theirs, Kathleen, also joined us for the trip downstream. 

Tom tied rope from one river tube to the next (like an inner tube but meant for river tubing), attached the floating ice chest filled with beer and Mike's hard drinks and off we went after plopping our butts down in the middle of the tubes. We drifted down the river slowly and, at some points, more quickly over the shallow rapids. We had to keep a watch out for rocks in the shallows so we could lift our bottoms to avoid hitting them. I managed to connect with two such rocks during the float, one of which left a bruise. I kept finding myself with my back to everyone, so I kept adjusting myself in the tube so I could contribute to the conversations without shouting over my shoulder. As soon as I did, the river would turn me right around again. I finally gave up. I just stared at all the large, rustic homes and cabins that lined the river—and shouted over my shoulder.

The river was running a little faster than normal and we had to be careful going under two bridges. The first bridge was no big deal and we floated between the supports successfully; however, the second bridge was a different story. It seemed as though the current was being sucked into one support in particular. We were talking too much and hadn't gotten ourselves pulled tightly together enough to create a mass that would maybe bump one side of the bridge support and then allow the water to guide us past. Instead, Rob, Janine, Kathleen and I ended up on one side of the support and Tom was propelled onto the other. As the rope pulled more and more taut, the force of the current rushing over small boulders at the upstream edge of the support caused Rob's tube to flip as he was taking the brunt of the eddy. About the same time, Tom's tube dumped him into the water as well. As I was trying to get Rob's tube out of the water so he could surface, he was pushed by the current and bumped first under one of our tubes, then another. He finally decided to open his eyes so he could find sunlight and headed to the surface. The water was only about two feet deep, but it took floating downstream a bit before the current would allow him to stand. Thankfully, Rob is a strong swimmer but, even so, he was a bit unnerved from the scare and the surge of adrenaline through his bloodstream. Tom is not such a strong swimmer and he called for help as soon as he surfaced, which was probably just the thing to get others on shore to scramble to assist. We were not the only ones caught up on the bridge that day.

Janine, Kathleen and I could do nothing. I was facing the bridge support and had my feet against the center of it, which seemed to stabilize us as I pulled the rope tight to keep the three of us together. There really was nothing Janine or Kathleen could do. We were in a triangle configuration and they were behind me and away from the bridge support. I really believe we would have been dumped in the river had I loosened my grip on the rope or removed my feet from the support. We had to wait to be 'rescued' because we had no knife to cut loose the end of the rope securing Tom's tube which was flailing on the other side. 

During our float down, we were accompanied off and on by a couple of fellows who were free-floating with nothing but their bodies and snorkel gear. After a while, we saw one of them swimming toward us with a bowie knife in his mouth. He cut the rope and soon we girls were floating down the river. Rob had made it to the river bank and Tom recovered his tube. We floated about a half mile or so before we made it to the right bank and to an old dock onto which we held until the men floated to meet us. Poor Tom was especially exhausted because they got dumped in the drink again on their way down.


Janine was calling our knife-bearing savior the 'Swan River Seal.' It turns out that he was a military man after all, but Army not Navy.

Rob lost his hat, water shoes and his brand new prescription sunglasses. Rob was concerned about his head getting sunburned, so I offered him my wide brimmed hat. It was an appropriate color (kind of army green), but didn't he look so cute with the bow in back! Tom lost his prescription eyeglasses and a pair of flip-flops. In fact, Tom said after losing one of his flip-flops, he tossed the other. Then a couple minutes later, his flip-flop came floating by. If only he hadn't tossed the one, he'd still have a pair! Doh!

Also part of the Tuesday tangle was a gal who Tom has known for several years. She was there with her son and others and, I think, was also cut loose by our Army man. And, believe it or not, Jack Hanna, the famous Columbus Zoo Director, his wife, Suzi, and some of their party shared in the drama as well. All in all, it was a harrowing experience for the guys, but all's well that ends well.

That evening we enjoyed delicious burgers, fruit salad, potato chips and Janine's totally awesome garlic dip at their house. Two of Tom's neighbors joined us—a couple of retired cops from San Jose and Santa Clara. Nice people, and funny, too.

The rest of our stay in Bigfork was uneventful. Rob was pretty sore for the next couple of days, so our drive up to Glacier never happened. But I did get to see a couple beautiful horses thanks to Kathleen, who works at a stable and kindly invited me to visit.

Now we are in Butte, Montana, for a two night stopover on our way to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

Of course, I have a few photographs. 

Until next time…

On our way to Sula, MT.

Our campsite at Indian Trees Campground, Bitterroot National Forest.

Can you see the dust on the car?

Interesting dust pattern on the back of the Beast.

Poor Louis. Pooped out from the drive to Sula. He got carsick again.

Beautiful wildflowers.

Wild Daisies.

Always an education.

According to the sign, the indians peeled the bark from this tree sometime between 1835 and 1890.

Louis enjoying the mountain air.

We need more animal bridges in this country.

Old downtown Bigfork.

Tom and Janine's miniature Husky, Mischa.

Tom and Rob catching up. Check out the backyard!

Tom, and the glasses he lost in the river.

Beautiful Luca.

Sweet Janine. The hostess with the most-est.

We caught a woodpecker pecking by Echo Lake.

I can't remember this horse's name, but he was sweet. He snuffled my cheek a couple of times.

A picturesque scene from the stables.

The yellow is rape seed growing for making canola oil.

Meet Chloe, our campground neighbor's cat, who had herself smashed up against the window.

America the Beautiful

The drive from Ketchum to Sula, Montana, was, in a word, beautiful. From the snow dappled mountains of the Sawtooth and Bitterroot ranges, to the Big Wood and Salmon rivers flanking our drive, to the fields of freshly mown and bailed hay, to the brown and black cattle nibbling on sweet, green grasses, all was majestic and fine. It reminded me of our motorcycle trip in June/July 2001.

Our friend, Rich Powell, who passed away from cancer two years ago exactly from the date this will post, joined us on that trip. We rode through parts of Idaho and Montana, some of which we will travel this trip. We had CB radio communication between us and I remember our conversations of how the scenery in this part of the country was exactly what was meant in the lyrics of 'America the Beautiful.' 

On one leg of our journey through Wyoming, on our way to Yellowstone, we stopped because Rob needed something at a general store. Rich and I laid back on a low, grassy hill in front of the Post Office next door to the general store. We watched the stars and stripes flapping lazily in the breeze on the flagpole above us and I asked Rich if he could remember the lyrics to the National Anthem. It was sad that neither of us could. I knew the words were in my databank somewhere, so that's what I thought about as we rode on and on through the countryside. Finally, I was able to recall the lyrics and I sang it in my head over and over until I could sing it without stumbling over the words. I recall both Rob and Rich tsking as though doing it was foolish and a waste of time. (What else was I going to do riding for hours on the back of a GoldWing, eh?) But, why? Because I have pride in my country and what our founding fathers wanted for us—freedom from tyranny, oppression, repression and monarchial and government control—and I was ashamed that I had forgotten.

Then, two months later 9/11 happened. The whole country woke up and came together. Sadly, the country has gone back to sleep again, dreaming of some sort of utopia where everyone is equal in every way, and everyone is safe from every thing, and human nature is forever changed and we all live happily ever after; and, forgetting that there are those who are gaining power, telling the country what it seems to want to hear and all the while attempting to put into place all the things our founding fathers tried to avoid because they already knew that human nature will never change. That there will always be those who lead and those who do not, those who will take advantage of opportunity and those who do not, those who will excel and those who do not, those who see the big picture and those who do not, those who think of themselves as victims and those who do not, and those who prey on human weaknesses for the purpose of becoming powerful and controlling and those who do not, those who try to stop tyranny from taking root and those who do not, and, also, those who come to our country to join in our way of life and those who do not but come here instead to change us. Beware!! Read history. It tells you everything you need to know about the future.

But, I digress.

We arrived at our campground in the Bitterroot National Forest. No one was here except the camp host. We had no cell coverage, no WiFi, and the trees were too tall to get satellite reception. But what we did have was Sirius/XM radio, so Rob and I listened to the 60s station all evening. Cousin Brucie, our disc jockey, gave tidbits of musical history with each song played. I remember Cousin Brucie from my time living in New Jersey. He worked for WABC out of New York and was THE disc jockey to listen to. One of the tunes Cousin Brucie played was 'Kind of a Drag' by the Buckinghams. Remember all the songs you sang to thinking you knew the lyrics only to find out you were hearing them wrong all along? Like Creedence Clearwater Revival with 'there's a bathroom on the right' when it really was "there's a bad moon on the rise.' 'Kind of a Drag' was that kind of song for me. I was 11 years old singing my heart out to 'Canada Dry,' which was a popular soft drink brand at the time. Yup. That was me. Sigh.

Then Cousin Brucie played Ray Charles' version of 'America the Beautiful.' I gave thanks for being able to spend Independence Day under the trees in a National Forest with nothing but my wonderful husband and my childhood recollections to keep me company.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Qq4oti60XY

So, thank you, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, John Muir, Theodore Roosevelt, Dwight D. Eisenhower, and the scores of others whose sacrifices and whose life's work did much to make and keep America beautiful and the fine nation it is and, I hope, continues to be.

We may not be perfect, but we are the best. Happy Independence Day!

Linda Cook
July 4, 2013

Driving north on highway 93 through Idaho.

Some of the local wildlife.

Rob cooling his feet in the Salmon River.

Leaving Ketchum (PG)

We are moving on today and both Rob and I are ready. We have enjoyed our time here in Ketchum, Idaho. Not only did Rob get to paraglide while here, which was why we made this particular stop, we got to experience a few thunder storms. We have to pack up now and get on the road. 

Until next time, enjoy the photos.

Ollie enjoying the sunshine.

Our camp spot.

A scene from along the bike and walking trail.

These seed puffs were about 4 inches in diameter. Beautiful.

Lovely daisies seemed to grow almost wildly in the area.

What we came here to do.

Wildflowers on the mountain.

Waiting for the wind.

First to launch.

Rob launching.

Can't beat the view.

Ketchum sunset.

Growing in the shadow of the trees.

That's Ketchum down there. A thunder storm was brewing.

Part of the local weed abatement team.

This old boy is the weed abatement supervisor.

Beautiful Ketchum, Idaho

It is truly beautiful here in Ketchum/Sun Valley, Idaho. It is obvious that there is pride within this community as evidenced by the landscaping, which is carefully tended; and, the streets are clean and the business facades are charming and well maintained. Beautiful firs, spruces and pines line many of the roads, and emerald green lawns look like carpets under their boughs.

Rob says there's probably two seasons here. Winter and road construction.There is a lot of it going on, but it doesn't really slow traffic too much as there really isn't much of it to speak of. At least not in comparison to what we are used to in the Bay Area. 

We arrived on Saturday and on Sunday, Rob was up paragliding. I dropped him off at 8:00am with the other pilots but I didn't stay to watch. I came back to the Beast to clean. Yes, even when on 'vacation' the vacuuming and dusting still needs to get done; and laundry, too. I was surprised to see that the laundry facilities were made up of newer models considering the RV park is nice, but rather rudimentary.

The RV park is just off the main highway that runs through town and is within walking distance of Big Wood River. While walking a path amongst Aspens and Wild Roses, I found a couple of small boulders along the riverbank, which make the perfect seat for meditation. I found myself soothed by the sound of the river lapping its bank and the shushing of the flow as it navigates through the multitude of rocks and boulder lining its bed. I've enjoyed watching the dozens of Violet-Green Swallows as they soar, loop, roll and dive over the river for the moths and other small, flying bugs that make up their diet. I thought of my father and imagined him fly fishing, standing hip-deep in the water while casting a graceful line. I love the peacefulness of it. I will take advantage of it many times before leaving here.

Being we've had rain the last couple of days, there hasn't been much to do so, yesterday, we took a drive to check out Sun Valley proper. If you're not paying attention, you completely miss it. You think you're still in Ketchum. We drove as far as the campground in the Sawtooth National Forest. Along the way is a community around the Sun Valley golf course. We stopped to visit the clubhouse, which was as beautiful as it was impressive. They also have an olympic sized swimming pool, several tennis courts, and what appeared to be a tent-covered amphitheater. I was an idiot, though. I forgot my camera. Doh! On the way back, we stopped for a Starbucks treat and walked the Farmer's Market.

Today, I took some early morning photos of the fog on the mountain and some of the Wild Roses down by the river.

We followed these fellows out of Nevada.

Here we are in Idaho heading to Ketchum.

I made comfort food Sunday evening: Nana's Mac and Cheese

This morning's fog—and our view.

A Wild Rose bud drenched with the night's rain.

A true Wild Rose.

One of many wild flowers still in bloom.

On the Road Again

Hallelujah! We are on the road again. The above photo was taken of us by daughter Hayley just before we drove off down the street to begin our adventure on Friday, June 14th. If you read the last post, you'll know that we had mechanical problems on the first day but didn't realize it until the following morning. 

The Beast was towed from Omo Ranch back down to West Sacramento on Tuesday, June 18th. We thought it would take a week before repairs could be started and were meant to be towed directly to a KOA about a mile or so from the repair shop. The owner of PM Truck Repair told his tow driver to bring it directly to the shop so they could do the diagnostic test to determine what they'd be dealing with. It was determined to be a faulty high pressure oil injector sensor, which they couldn't replace until the next day. By the end of the workday, it was clear that they had no one to tow us to the KOA, so we spent the night at the end of an industrial cul-de-sac, with the I-80 overpass about 200 feet away. Rob set out the satellite dish so we'd have TV. Throughout the evening we also observed the comings and goings of hardworking men bringing in their tractors to park for the night, and those who were returning heavy equipment long after the gates were closed to the rental company situated right next to us. Some had such huge tractors and trailers to maneuver that I felt we were in their way. Their expertise prevailed and it was truly interesting, and fun, to watch. I bet they all wondered why a motorhome was parked there with slides open, generator running and lights on inside.

The tow truck driver putting on coveralls so he can prep the Beast for tow.

At this point I was wondering what the cats were thinking. Yes, they were in the Beast.

After the sharp turn onto Omo Ranch Road.

The employees at PM Truck Repair were very kind and helpful. Jaime, the mechanic they assigned to us, worked diligently to get us on the road as quickly as possible. I think we were hooking up the car and driving away at about noon on Wednesday. I called the RV park at which we originally planned to stay in Truckee to see if they had availability for the night, so there we stayed for one night instead of the intended five. We went out to dinner with our good friends, Sandy and Rhoda Smith, and were grateful for the one evening we had with them.

Our campsite at Coachland RV Park in Truckee, California

Yesterday, after 7 hours on the road (lots of roadwork), we arrived in Elko, Nevada. We have the Union Pacific railroad right behind the RV park. We heard several train whistles last evening. We love train whistles and the clacking sound of trains going by.

As for the whole trip, we are only one day behind schedule. We are losing one day at our next stop—staying 11 days instead of 12. Not bad thanks to the folks at PM Truck Repair.

Our campsite at Iron Horse RV Park in Elko, Nevada

A freight train lumbering by, as seen from our campsite.

Rob and I ran some errands today, one of which was a stop at WalMart. I know, I know. Some of you think people shouldn't shop at WalMart because they underpay their employees, etc, etc. But, they usually have what we are seeking and some things only they seem to carry that no one else does, and they are very good to RVers. Anyway, while we were at WalMart, an employee called Lena asked us if we needed help finding anything, so we took her up on it. She walked us to everything we were seeking. Lena had a delightful southern accent and Rob asked her from where in the south her accent came. She said, "Alabama, sir." Rob then asked her how she ended up in Elko, Nevada, and she gave a cryptic reply that it was an 'internet error.' If you know Rob, you know he has a way about him that makes people open up to him. Lena told us how she met someone online who had gone through a similar difficult divorce so she came here to meet him but he turned out to be a not-so-nice person. Somehow she has remained here for 13 years, we didn't find out why, but what we learned was heartbreaking. Lena had had a daughter who died at age 7. She and her then husband had taken their daughter to the hospital. After she was discharged, they took her home but she wasn't getting any better. The following day, as they tried to help her and were holding her, she passed away. Lena said it had to do with fluid surrounding her heart (Pam help here?), and I don't know if they learned this while they were at the hospital or through an autopsy, but they couldn't save her. Lena's husband shut down after that. He stopped talking to Lena and to all his family. He started drinking from the moment he got home from work until he passed out. Every day. The marriage disintegrated, which was inevitable if her husband couldn't or wouldn't allow himself to be helped through his grief and, maybe, his guilt at not being able to save or protect his little girl. 

I worked hard to keep tears from springing to my eyes. I felt so badly for Lena even though this happened so many years ago. We could tell it was really hard for her to tell us about her ordeal, and she could have told us nothing at all. She also told us that she met a wonderful man who is good and honorable and true and they are getting married in two weeks. I told her I was sorry for her loss, gave her a big hug, congratulated her on her upcoming marriage and wished her well.

Lena allowed herself to be vulnerable before utter strangers and, hopefully, found herself wrapped in blanket of compassion and goodwill. May she find strength and happiness all her life.

We all have our stories and you can never tell by looking at someone what that story is. 

Here are a few photos. I hope you enjoy them.

Rob in front of my aunt and uncle's house.

Bruce and Adrienne on the morning we were supposed to leave.

This was my grandparent's Silver Streak, which used to be kept where we've had the motorhome these last 11 months.

The plates from all the Silver Streak National Rallies that my grandparents attended during the 1970s.

This is Ollie enjoying the out-of-doors from high upon a platform in my uncle's front yard.

This is Pumpkin watching Ollie enjoy the out-of-doors from high on the platform.

Well, we know what was on Pumpkin's mind.

My cousin, Beth, with her 14 year old Australian Shepherd, Angel.

On I-80, as we were leaving California, yesterday.

Just Gotta Go with the Flow

We left home on June 14th and drove to Omo Ranch to my uncle's Christmas Tree farm for a one night visit. We packed up, said good-byes and tried to leave yesterday morning but the Beast had no power. Even flooring the accelerator had no effect. The engine revved only in neutral. After having Good Sam Roadside Assistance send someone out—found metal bits floating in the fuel (probably rust), changed the fuel filter, checked the air filter—the problem still wasn't resolved, but we did finally get a consistent code that indicates that it is a fuel injection problem. Now today, Father's Day, Rob called Good Sam again, discussed the code and our options and learned that the Beast has to be towed to a shop that has a mechanic familiar with Caterpillar engines. Thank goodness they will do the footwork for us and find the closest location. The bad thing is we don't know how long it will take. I hope whoever does the work takes pity on us being that it is our house and we have pets to accommodate.

Uncle Bruce would like us to stay here with them while the Beast is wherever it needs to be to get fixed, but I think Rob will want us to go with and stay nearby so that once it is road-ready, we'll be able to get going as quickly as possible.

I called the RV park where we were supposed to be in Truckee to let them know they wouldn't be seeing us on this trip. I guess this kind of thing is something they hear on occasion because they were completely unfazed, wished us a speedy resolution and let me know they'd have space for us if we need it on our way to Idaho.

I am so glad that we weren't stuck on the side of a road somewhere; and that we are parked next to my uncle's house with water, electricity and the ability to dump gray water as needed. We are amongst family and the peace and sweet smell of pines and firs. I am counting my blessings.

We learned something about our cat, Louis, on our drive up here on Friday. Louis gets carsick, poor baby. Both the cats hide during our drives. Brandy is usually found in the litter box and Louis is usually with Brandy or hiding behind the couch. As we were climbing in elevation, hitting some bumpy and curvy roads, we heard Louis meow in a sick-sounding kind of way. I looked back and found him looking forlorn, and quite green, with thick, foamy strands of saliva hanging from his mouth. I unstrapped myself, got a napkin to wipe his mouth, scooped him up and brought him up to my seat to ride in my arms so he could see outside. I was thinking it might help like it does for humans and I think it did. The big surprise was that he didn't try to jump off my lap. He stayed in my arms for quite awhile. Maybe he'll get where he'll ride in my lap more often. I wouldn't mind that at all.

I think this life we've chosen is going to be an ongoing lesson in letting go of preconceived notions, expecting nothing but the unexpected, embracing spontaneity and just going with the flow. Its all good.