Ely, Nevada: 368 miles round-trip from the nearest Wal-Mart

Sorry for the prolonged absence. One word: Nevada.

Actually, our last post came from Diamond Lake, OR as we prepared for our visit to Crater Lake. We were just a few minutes’ walk from Diamond Lake, a pristine mountain lake nestled between Diamond Peak and Mt. Thielsen. The day at Crater Lake was sublime. When the weather is right, so they say, the water in Crater Lake is cobalt blue. Ask them why and the rangers will whip out their crinkled posterboard display and tell you all about it. If I may borrow from 1980’s songstress Debbie Gibson (she goes by Deborah now that she’s on Broadway), the water was “electric blue.” I’m usually the type to put away my camera while I hike, but I just couldn’t stop taking pictures of this otherworldly scene. I was convinced that the sun would set or the clouds would shift, causing this rare brand of blue to fade. Alas, from 10:30 until 3:00 with varying cloud cover, Crater Lake’s 2000 ft deep waters (the deepest in the nation) remained an inimitable shade of deep, bright blue. While Ted hiked Garfield Peak, Earl and Barbara visited the lodge and attended a ranger talk. Both yield high marks. And Earl and Barbara are a discerning audience.

Departing Crater Lake, the drive to Klamath Falls was pleasant enough, but we were probably on sensory overload from the lake. The day prior we tottered around Mt St Helens, so we are all about volcanoes now. However, since we lost two days of WiFi access, I’ll spare you my diatribe on why I love volcanoes so much. (Thanks, Julie for warning everyone about my “geology talks.”) I will simply tell you that volcanoes are sneaky little bastards. Pliny the Younger (or Elder, whichever) called Vesuvius long before it buried Pompeii and Herculaneum several meters of ash, but sometimes you just can’t tell what they’re going to do. Mt St Helens caused quite a fuss in the 80’s, but that was predicted a month or two ahead of time, yet 50 some people still perished. Crater Lake, however, was not caused by an eruption, rather a collapse.

Mt. Mazama was a massive (read dozens of miles in diameter) stratovolcano (the nasty kind) that did begin erupting 7000 years ago. Accounts still exist in Native American oral tradition of the event. Several vents formed and the volcano belched and erupted over a long period of time. At some point the volcano evacuated so much of the magma stored below, that the entire mountain collapsed under its own weight. The caldera that remained filled with water, hence Crater Lake. A rover was recently deployed to the depths of the lake where they found beds of moss 20 ft thick and at the very bottom (dun, dun, dun, dun…) a bubbling, broiling hot spring. Sneaky little bastard.

But surely the grandpappy of all sinister volcanoes is Yellowstone. Unleashing cataclysmic eruptions every 600,000 years or so, the last one was 600,000 years ago. Visit the park sooner than later.

Well, after getting our kicks fantasizing about the relative destruction of the Northwest (nothing against you guys up in Washington and Idaho, but it’s just too cool not to contemplate), we headed south into Nevada and the Basin and Range. The Basin and Range is as it is described, a series of mountain ranges alternated with a series of basins. (A basin is a valley whose waters do not reach an ocean, but you can interpret “basin” as “valley.”) The Basin and Range, in form, is no different than the ranges in the U.S. (The Boise crowd can probably recite the MT/ID ranges in order, but among them are the Bitterroot, Sawtooth, etc., all interrupted by river valleys) or the many Appalachian ranges (in central Applachia for example, the Taconics rise up from the Catoctin which rise from the Allegheny, etc.). What makes the Basin and Range unique is the forces that created them.

Typically, a mountain range is formed by compression, that is, the smashing together of the earth’s crust. Wanna make a mountain? Here’s a fun experiment: Hold your hands out so that your fingertips are touching and your palms are facing the ground. Now, with millions of pounds per square inch at the ready, start to push your hands together. Ah, ah, ah! Both fingertips can’t go up. That’s cheating. Instead, push your hands together until your left hand begins to push beneath the other. That hand wins. It’s now a mountain builder. What becomes of the right hand? Does it just slide along the top? Nonsense! Your fingernails probably got in the way. No, the left hand that pushed under the right hand, in the process of doing so, dragged the right hand with it. The fingers of the right hand begin to curl, gnarl, get twisted and bent. But wait! Look at your knuckles! They’re pointing up! Quick name them before some twitchy British explorer gives them a name from his boat far off the shore (I’m looking at you, Vancouver). If you gave names to those little pointy things, then you have just named various peaks in a range of mountains created by a process known as subduction. Oh, and try to come up with something more creative than “One Little Piggy, Two Little Piggy…”

This is how the vast majority of mountains came into being: an oceanic plate (Pacific) subducted under a continental plate (North American plate), and VOILA! In the case of the Himalayas, it was two terrestrial plates (Indian and Asian), but the result was the same.

Now to the Basin and Range. To the best of my recollection (the reading of “Basin and Range” by John McPhee some five or six years ago, so my rendering may in no way reflect modern geologic theory, but hey, I'm sitting in a motorhome in the middle of the desert, so I'll make it up), the Basin and Range is formed when the terrestrial plate “relaxes.” Now, keep in mind that throughout geologic history, nothing really “stops,” it just puts its energy elsewhere. In the case of the North American Plate, at some point it extended, stretched, probably as a reaction to hundreds of millions of years of being compressed (I think it’s called isostatic or isometric rebound, and it’s akin to what happens when you press down on a couch cushion—it lurches back up). So, when the earth’s crust “stretched,” gaps were formed. Gaps in crust are called faults, and you probably remember from Junior High Physical Science that faults cause mountains (displacement, uplift, however you wish to define it), one part of the crust goes this way, and the other part of the crust goes that way. And you now have a mountain range.

If you were to Google “physiographic map of the US”, you would probably be prompted to a USGS or NOAA site that has physiographic maps (a map that shows differences in elevation). If you were to look to the west, you’d see the following: Pacific coast/Coastal Range/California’s Central Valley/Sierra Mountains. Then, to the east of the Sierras, you would see what looks like a small army of snakes oriented to the northeast, as if they were trying to invade the Snake River Plain in southern Idaho. (funny side note: When our beloved late Wray Monroe visited Marilyn in Boise in the 80’s, he traveled via southern Idaho. According to the story I heard, she opened the door and he said, “This is the ugliest state I’ve ever seen!.” Marilyn challenged him to come back another time and she’d show him northern Idaho. With that, the “Mostly Monroe” adventures had begun.)

Anyway, these snakes slithering through Nevada are, in fact, the alternating ranges and basins of the creatively named Basin and Range. You know what, after I submit this post, I’ll see if I can google it, and if I can find it, I’ll post the map in the slideshow (for those of you new to the blog, there’s a slideshow of pictures to the bottom right. It hasn’t been updated for sometime due to upload restrictions on the WiFi connections at these campgrounds.

Well, Julie, as it turns out I did babble on about geology. Sorry everyone, but I think it was Wallace Stegner who said (and I paraphrase), being surrounded by nature and not learning of its origins is akin to walking through a great museum with all of the paintings facing the wall.*

“Why didn’t you write about what you guys did during the last two days?” you might ask. I did. We drove. The end.

Tomorrow we’re on to Zion National Park, and from there we hit a spate of state and national parks (“spate” is the technical term for more than one public park). Among them are Cedar Breaks, Bryce Canyon, and maybe Capitol Reef NP. Please feel encouraged to post a comment on these parks, as we know very little about them from personal experience.

I will leave you with a trivia question. The first person to post their answer wins the first of many prizes!!

Question:

At what site did the Monroetorhome achieve its highest elevation?

a. Glacier National Park

b. A mountain pass in the Idaho Rockies

c. Crater Lake National Park

d. A mountain pass in the Basin and Range

The answer in tomorrow’s post.

*Editorial Note: Fellow Field Geology teacher and resident know-it-all Clark Meyer was good enough to point out that this quote is attributed to Thomas Henry Huxley, not Wallace Stegner. Thanks for keeping me honest.

On the Road Again

Top 10 Things I learned at the Monroe Reunion:

10. Of all the generations, to the best of our figuring, there is not a single lawyer among us. Take that as you may.

9. The Monroe’s are so frugal, when Jean sent out her questionnaire, everyone in Building 16 opted out of the “hot water upcharge.” I wish I’d known about that.

8. D Monroe one-upped us all by using his rental car as a hotel room. Well played, D.

7. The only two places left that Ron and Anne Dahl have not visited are Detroit and outer space. Since they must choose between the two, they have completed flight simulation exercises and will graduate to zero-gravity training shortly.

6. Due to the use of coupons, “buy 1 get 1 free” promotions, and group discounts, the City of Port Townsend has actually lost money on our reunion.

5. According to Jean’s instructions on “How am I related,” I seem to be an HWB₀C₁². If I recollect my high school chemistry, I am highly reactive to caffeine, sugar, and fermented hops. I have two isotopes, both of which carry negative charges. I assume they are named “Bob” and Doug.”

4. Upon check-out, Mark Monroe’s Toyota Corolla rental car had 8 miles on it and was considered to be in “Excellent” condition. Upon its return, the car had numerous scratches, four dents, the upholstery in the back seat was missing, as was the car’s manifold and left rear door. The car’s odometer read, “Error.” Mark’s response: “Damned Japanese cars.”

3. Gretchen Higbee walks 10,000 footsteps every day! This is particularly impressive considering the fact that she is living in an RV while doing so. After living in Earl’s RV for 10 days, I’m averaging 241 ½ footsteps per day. Where did the ½ step come from, you ask? The commode in the RV has a foot-activated lever. It turns out you shouldn’t have asked.

2. Anne Dahl’s DVD rendered the entire Monroe clan speechless. The publishers at Guinness have been notified.

And the number one thing that I learned during the Monroe 2008 Reunion:

1. At some point in the last couple of weeks, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie had twins. I think I’ll go back to the RV now.

It was wonderful to see everyone, and unfortunate that we couldn’t see EVERYONE. It turns out that the REM’s, under the leadership of Barbara, will take on the task of coordinating the next reunion. We were so excited talking about it last night (in Woodland, WA, just south of Mt St Helens) that we actually started making tentative plans.

Today we made a brief stop in Salem, OR where we took a spin around the state capitol, and Earl caught out of the corner of his eye the Oregon State Office Building where he worked for the Selective Service. In his words, “the best way to make sure I didn’t go to war was to be proficient at determining who did go to war.” We made an illegal stop, snapped a photo, and proceeded west two blocks to the boarding house where he stayed while working in Salem. The adorable bungalow at 1410 Court Street was beautifully maintained, much to Earl’s satisfaction.

We are now passing through Eugene on our way to Crater Lake. Since we are now straddling the eastern edge of the so-called “Ring of Fire,” tomorrow we’ll muse about one of my favorite topics in geology: volcanoes.

Port Townsend, ho!!!!!!!!!!

I know a thing or two about farmland. For example, the Mountainside house had a vegetable garden. In ’91 I took a bus from Richmond, VA to Colorado Springs and saw a whole lot of farmland. I’ve spent time in Illinois, Wisconsin, even the Central Valley of California. The point here is that I’ve seen farmland before. It’s usually uniform in color, depending on the crop of choice, devoid of trees, with curious mechanized monsters plodding around grinding, processing, fertilizing, or spraying things. Sometimes it’s flat, and sometimes it’s wavy. Remember Katharine Lee Bates’ immortal phrase, “Amber waves of grain?” A hike up Pike’s Peak inspired those words. Well, if Bates were in the Blue Mountains in southeastern Washington rather than central Colorado, her verse might have been something like, “Amber waves of HOLY HELL, THESE WAVES ARE HUUUUGE!”

This is not your Uncle Clem’s farmland. The “amber waves” of eastern Washington are actually tsunamis—somewhat literally (I’ll explain in a minute). South of Spokane the farmland is impressively wavy. So much so, I asked Barbara to take a picture (I was driving). This marks the first time I’ve ever requested a photograph of grain. The landscape is enchanting to say the least. Young wheat is an iridescent green. Adult wheat is a robust green. Mature wheat has a golden hue so bright that it out-shines the cloudless sky above it. However, the farther we headed south, hilly terrain transformed into cavernous swells (much to the frustration of the Monroetorhome’s cruise control. The Rocky Mountains had little effect on our V8 engine. Driving through this terrain, I was questioning if I was close to overheating the engine.) Once we pulled into Dayton, WA, I was sad to see the roller coaster ride end. However, the high winds, twisty turns, and ever-changing grade was exhausting from the perspective of the driver.

You will have to verify this since we don’t have a geology text on board. My knowledge is limited to a foggy recollection of a book (“Cataclysms on the Columbia”) that Barbara (I can call her Mom when referring to a birthday present she once gave me) found while on one of her Mostly Monroe trips to this area. Barbara suggested that these massive “waves of grain” are actually deposits from an ancient flood caused when the Missoula Dam broke. The Missoula Dam no longer exists, and the Army Corps of Engineers had nothing to do with it. Toward the end of the last ice age, as glaciers scoured this region, one of them came to an end near the present-day town of Missoula. Surface water melted to form a lake, while the glacier’s terminus remained, forming an ice dam. The ice dam broke periodically, releasing an unimaginable (not even Michael Bay’s best disaster film could capture this kind of deluge) amount of water, thousands of feet high. The resulting ebb and flow (imagine sand in the bottom of a sloshing bathtub) created these criss-crossing ripples in Washington’s landscape, forming the now coined “amber tsunamis of grain.”

The bouncy terrain did finally subside as we approached Walla Walla, the town where Earl spent some of his formative years, and to which he returned with the Army Air Corps. Earl found that little remains of the Walla Walla of his youth, however, we did manage to locate his school, and the park in which he used to play. (Even one of the canons placed there to commemorate WWI was still there.)

The drive from Walla Walla to Mt Rainier NP was a breeze, relative to the “farmland” of eastern WA. We crossed the Snake River, and bid adieu to the Columbia for a week or so, then came upon two massive snow-capped peaks on the horizon: to the left (south), Mt. Adams at over 12,000 ft. Straight ahead, Mt. Rainier at 14+. And that was the best glimpse we would get of her. As we approached, clouds and drizzle came in from the coast, and as we climbed to the Paradise Visitor Center, visibility diminished (to about 100ft). Alas, our photo album of this trip will not include picturesque vistas of Rainier, but I did get one of Barbara looking out into the clouds! We stayed the night at Mountain Haven Campground, one of the most idyllic spots I think I might have ever seen. It’s like Narnia, only without the Wicked Witch and the tiger that thinks he’s Jesus. (I know, I know, not quite how the story goes. I haven’t read it in two decades, and haven’t bothered to see the movie.) We hated to leave it, but that goes to show how fond we are of you all. We cannot wait to get to Port Townsend.

By the time you’ve read this you’ve probably returned home from the reunion, so it was nice to see you all, and I hope we can all forget the embarrassing episode regarding “you know who.” Wouldn’t it be great if this cryptic, prognosticative reference might actually apply to someone??? Can’t wait to find out!! Well, we’re about thirty minutes from Port Townsend, so I’m going to sign off until Monday.

Don’t forget to check back in on the Monroetorhome 2008 blog after the reunion!! Coming up:
· A day in the life on the Monroetorhome (with a chance to win prizes!)
· Find out at what point we all blow up at each other.
· Figure out how many days Ted can tolerate eating Fig Newtons as a snack (going on 10).
Stay tuned!

A Good Day for Earl

What a day we had in Chewelah! The drive through western Idaho and into Washington was scenic, but it’s kind of like leaving the MOMA and heading to “Crazy Eddie’s Wicked Good Museum of Art.” Your basis of comparison is all out of whack. As we left Idaho and entered Washington through the town of Newport, we were still talking about the towns of Ponderay and Sandpoint, ID. Nonetheless, the journey was pleasing to the eye and it was wonderful hearing Earl’s remembrances of the region, whether it be from childhood or from a field trip he took while completing his graduate degree at MSU.

It seems that once we cleared the Cabinet Mountains the terrain took on a different aspect. The pine trees thinned out and dust clouds kicked up where the land was not being irrigated. We crossed the Kanisku National Forest on a picturesque road that led us around the shoulder of Chewelah Mtn., el. 5775 ft. On the way down the mountain into the valley we passed the Pioneer Cemetery, and Barbara asked, “Do you suppose Harold and Vin are buried there?”

The town of Chewelah, where DD Monroe set up shop in 1912 and served as mayor for one year, now boasts a population of just under 1800. A very pleasant park which sits on land donated by Coronel Jenkins (the man from whom DDM rented the home in which Earl was born) covers several city blocks and straddles Chewelah Creek, whose charming but swift current has become a popular attraction with Chewelah’s children. Our first stop was the Chewelah Library, where the town history shows no record of a DD Monroe as either a doctor or mayor. However, the librarian was able to furnish Earl with a recent map of the town. We broke for lunch, consulted the map, and discussed other possible sources of information on this nebulous time in Monroe lore (it was Saturday, and the Chamber of Commerce and City Hall were both closed).

Earl hit the jackpot at the Chewelah Museum, an outfit run by one lady whose love for Chewelah history made for hours of good conversation. Mom found in the records a book of minutes from the Stevens County Medical Society. One note of the November 6, 1912 meeting reads, “Communication of Dr DD Monroe of Chewelah relative to membership read and filed.” Although not yet a member, he was herewith officially “on the books.” About six months later, said application was accepted. In the years that followed the minutes reflect that DDM was very active in the Society, serving as its president “for year 1915.” The final entry to mention his name is dated May 7, 1917, at which he “gave an interesting discourse on Ear Ache.” Earl sat in a chair for about an hour, reading these accounts, and noting pages in which his name was mentioned.

While he and Barbara were engrossed at the museum, I took a walk through the park, and noticed a house with very interesting beveled masonry. Earl had shown me the picture of his birthplace, and although it was a different color, and the façade look different, I walked around it to investigate. Apparently I was looking at the back of the home (which faced the street), because when I walked around to the front, I immediately noticed the curved walls on the second floor. The owners of what is now the Nordlig Motel were in the front yard gardening. I asked them if this house was owned by Cor. Jenkins, to which they replied affirmatively. I asked if it was rented by a DD Monroe, to which the man responded, “He was a doctor of some sort.” EUREKA!! We chatted for a bit. They were more than happy to chat with Earl if he wanted to pass by after his stint at the museum.

When I returned to the museum, Earl and the museum “curator” were making copies of the documents that they had found, as well as an index of all headlines from the local newspaper archive (several of the children are mentioned in various articles). Earl practically jogged over to the Nordlig Motel, where they invited us in to see the home, and share what history they know. Incredibly, Clarence’s drawing of the home (including the spiral staircase and water fountain that adorned the foyer) were a spot on match for the real thing. Earl walked upstairs and wondered in which room was he born. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome (there was no chance of that happening—they were thrilled, and their daughter is a history buff who just this year completed a history project on Col. Jenkins.), so we stayed about 10 minutes, showered the family with thanks, then headed off, amazed at the amount of information we had come across in just a few short hours.

(By the way, that swift creek mentioned above is, indeed, the creek in which little Vin Monroe drowned in 1916. No one but our family seems to have any record of the incident. Both the curator and the motel proprietors were grateful to learn that bit of history. The road improvements have rerouted the creek, and the island that Vin was trying to reach no longer exists.)

The final stop for the day was to that Pioneer Cemetery on the hill east of Chewelah. The blueprint index was poorly drawn, so Barbara and I spent a good 45 minutes scrambling up and down dry, dusty hills (read cliffs) trying to find the Monroe plot. Barbara triangulated the location by locating multiple obvious markers, and eventually we found the plot. Harold (stillborn, 1915) and Vin (drowned age 3, 1916) are memorialized with beautiful red marble headstones. The markers, as well as the larger Monroe marker, have weathered a bit these 90 some years, and lichen have gained purchase on the smooth, polished face, but otherwise they in very nice condition.

The Chewelah RV site did not have internet, so we are closing on the end of the next day, the 20^th. We are outside of Spokane, at what appears to be the RV owner’s version of a timeshare. For that reason, the Ponderosa RV Resort has less of the “mom and pop” appeal that the previous venues had; however, their accommodations still rank third to the KOA's in Bozeman and Glacier.

Tomorrow we drive about a mile to the RV service location where we will resolve the issue with the leveling jack. Wish us luck that we’re out of there by lunch time!! Then it's off to Walla Walla, which should be a 4+ hour trip.

“Mr. Monroe, it’s Murphy on line 1”

Well, as we were about to depart for our second day of frolicking in Glacier, we discovered a malfunction with the right, rear leveling jack. Two problems: how do we get this fixed, and how do we stop that horrible beeping coming from the dashboard. With the help from Earl’s “executive tool kit,” the second problem was easy to resolve…we disabled the damn thing. The first problem led us to leave West Glacier one day early and make our way to Spokane, where, thanks to persistence in calling different RV dealerships, we found a service rep that could get us a replacement jack by Monday. So, rather than zipping through Chewelah and Walla Walla, WA, we will take it at a slightly more relaxed pace.

I came on board this exercise with only one condition: that we stop at all state lines, when safe and legally arguable, to get my picture taken at each state line. It’s what I do instead of collecting snowglobes. So, at the Idaho/Montana line, we stopped in the parking lot of State Line Bar and Casino, and all three of us got in a picture before the Montana state line, three generations of Monroes commemorating their visit to the town where Barbara grew up, Earl spent some of the happiest years of his life, and Ted plans to move to once he can convince Julie to do so.

The repair detour has led us to an unexpected stay in Sandpoint, ID. This reminds me. Julie, if you don’t want to move to northern Montana, how about northern Idaho? (Marriage is all about compromise.) However, our spirits are still high. Although repairs are neither convenient nor fun, particularly for the one paying the repair bill, little seems affected in regard to our itinerary.

We dined in the Ranchette this evening on a two-course meal: cheese fondue as an entree and a York Peppermint Patty for dessert. Our lust for luxury knows no bounds. Continuing the geology video series will serve as the evening's entertainment.

Tomorrow its off to Chewelah, WA, birthplace of Robert Earl Monroe.

Keen on Keens

I will preface by saying that I am in no way affiliated with the company that manufactures Keens. However, if a representative of said company is reading this, I do accept endorsement deals of any sort.

(The "Pic of the Day" associated with this post, as with all other POD's, and additional pics of the trip, are featured down and to the right in the slideshow. Watch the glacially rotating thumbnail images, or do yourself a favor, and click on the picture.)

Keens are AWESOME!! They are a hybrid hiking boot and river sandal. Julie and I spent last week hiking, kayaking, and lounging in Michigan, both clad in Keens (shout out to the Northwestern Univ. crew who are all “krazy” for Keens!), but I was dubious as to whether or not they could handle snow. My hike today took me from Logan Pass on the Continental Divide in Glacier NP, over a saddle, around a ridge, and down to Hidden Lake. The rangers cancelled the ranger hikes for the week due to “trail conditions.” Snow still covered a good portion of the trail, and hikers were advised to hike “at their own risk.” When I saw that World War II veterans and children under the age of 5 were braving the hike, I decided that I could not be dissuaded. So, I plodded the three (very slow) miles through snow/slush/ice to the most delightful lake tucked between Reynolds and Clements Mountains. Half of the lake was still iced over, but the other half is cobalt blue, and iridescent when the sun is shining. Along the way I befriended a family of mountain goats, a mama and baby marmot, and a number of other critters. The goats and marmots on this hike are not at all shy, and in some cases, play with passers by.

Earl, Barbara, and I climbed the Going to the Sun Road together on the free park shuttle, which goes as far as Logan Pass (6000+ ft. in elev.) Barbara and I cased out the Visitor Center, cancelled our National Park Passports (one of the many geeky exercises that you will hear about) and posed for some pictures. The ride itself is about 1.5 hours in duration, with construction adding a variable, so Earl and Barbara soon headed back down to Apgar Village to rest, snack, people-watch, and await my return.

Glacier is obviously well-known for her many glaciers, which at one time numbered in the hundreds. Now, however fewer than 20 exist, and they are all in a state of retreat. In fact, Barbara made as one of her few requests that we stop in Glacier, in her words, “while there are any glaciers left.” Perhaps some day soon they will have to change the name to Glaciated National Park, lest they be accused of false advertising. Glaciers or not, the terrain is something to behold: cirques, arêtes, U shaped valleys, moraines of several sorts, hanging valleys, and so many other glacial features. In fact, on our way up the road, I noticed a hanging valley that seems to have been carved not once, but twice by two glacial events! If someone wanted to take pictures for an illustrated textbook on glaciers, you could do a lot worse than Glacier NP.

My ride down was interrupted by road debris, halting no one but my shuttle bus driver, prompting me to hop off my shuttle, and hitchhike back to the parking lot. It only took two cars before a nice family from Flathead Lake, MT picked me up. We had a wonderful conversation on the way down about airplanes (the man was a pilot), Montana (the man was from Montana), motorcycles (the man has owned A LOT of motorcycles), and my job and hometown (the man asks a lot of questions). They dropped me off at the RV doorstep, where I told Earl and Barbara of my adventures, and we whipped up some delicious andouille sausage (thanks, Molly!) with peppers, onions, and zucchini.

Tomorrow, more hiking, some paddling on Lake McDonald, and perhaps a ranger –led boat tour.

Thanks to Jean Cerar for solving the “Enabling Act” mystery (read comment below). Now for the next brain teaser: On my hike today, as I crossed the saddle between Reynolds and Clements Mountains, my cell phone asked me if I wanted to convert my calendar for the new time zone. It then asked me the same question as I crossed back to Logan Pass. I assumed that the Continental Divide also serves as the border between Mountain and Pacific Time. However, when I got home, and told Earl and Barbara of this occurrence, they furrowed their brows, and objected. “The Continental Divide does not straddle a time zone!” they cried. They sprung into action, grabbing the first map/atlas/gazetteer that they could find (there are only about 30 in the motorhome), and confirmed that lo, the time zone changes at the Montana/Idaho border (witness geeky exercise #2). So, I put it to you Monroe clan, et al. If the Mountain and Pacific time zones straddle the Montana/Idaho border, why did my cell phone believe otherwise??

Make it snappy. We’re only here for two more nights.

Three Dopes in Three Forks

As you can see by today’s “fun fact,” not a lot going on in Bozeman. However, we thoroughly enjoyed our day in Bozeman. We nodded off to sleep watching Chapters 12 & 13 of a geology video series that Earl purchased so as to entertain us in the evening after the scenery has faded to black. Also, in his view, nothing on television is worth watching. We learned about the volcanic nature of the Hawaiian and Yellowstone hot spots.

This morning was downright lackadaisical. Earl projected an 11am departure for Helena, and we were all ready by 9:00. We were so happy chit-chatting that Barbara and I had forgotten to go on our walk/run (respectively.) We hit the road at our leisure, and I got my first introduction to conducting 17,000 lbs of steel, foam, and formica down a two-lane highway. I was surprised at how easy-going it was. A half-hour down the road yielded and unplanned visit to Madison Buffalo Jump State Park. A five mile, rutted, gravel road leads to intermittent cliffs, one of which was used by Shoshone Indians as a buffalo jump. The interpretive displays were FANTASTIC. They clued us into the strategy behind the process, how the hunters used the collected carcasses, and our favorite part was a detailed description of the seasonal lives of Native Americans. Very well laid out.

Missouri Headwaters State Park in Three Forks, MT was the main event of the day. The Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin Rivers confluence to form the longest river in the continental US. Earl and Barbara dropped me off at the first stop (confluence of the Jefferson and Madison), and they proceeded on to the main picnic area for lunch. I took a brief hike (30 minutes, with stops) to a few overlooks of the Gallatin River, the surrounding mountains, and Lewis Rock, the overlook that Meriweather Lewis climbed to survey the land, and to decide which river might be the Missouri. Imagine what went through his head, climbing to the top, surrounded by mountains, realizing that he was not far from the Continental Divide. If memory serves, he believed himself to be within 100 miles of the headwaters (of what he considered the Missouri, in this case the Jefferson). In fact, he was much closer.

Earl took the wheel after Three Forks, and chauffeured us to Helena. Mom’s goal of visiting all the state capitol buildings en route was “capital” in our minds. Parking the motorhome in this hilly, downtown area was a bit of a challenge, but Earl’s patience paid off, landing us just two blocks from the bronze(?)-domed building. With great suggestions from the entry guard, we saw the House and Senate chambers, and were actually able to enter the Old Supreme Court chamber. We had a great time looking at the murals throughout, trying to guess what landmark “Montana moment” they were trying to depict. One painting still perplexes us. “The Signing of the Enabling Act” seems (underscore “seems”) to feature Wilson, T Roosevelt, and Taft signing something. After a little probing, we discovered that Montana gained statehood in 1889, so there was NO WAY that those three guys were signing anything pertaining to Montana statehood. (And given relations between the three, do you think that any three of them would want anything to do with one another???) So, all you readers out there!! Get on Wikipedia and make something up about the Enabling Act so that Barbara and I can satisfy our curiosity.

The paintings throughout the building were impressive, expressive of the frontier mentality of the typical Montanan (I can’t say “Joe” Montana, lest it be misunderstood as THE Joe Montana). In fact, the painting adorning the House Lobby is the very same painting on the front cover of my copy of “Undaunted Courage”, Paxson’s “Lewis and Clark at Three Forks.” What struck us both about the capitol is the vibrant colors throughout the main arcade: green, red, and gold. The gold, perhaps for much-prized Montana Gold, but Barbara suggested that the bright colors give it a “Wild West saloon” feel. Whether that was their intention or not, her description is on the money.

We are spending the night in Helena, next to a Class A (the big kind of motorhome) that, for one reason or another, has situated a large (3 ft tall) stuffed goose in his front windshield. Is this the equivalent of pink flamingoes on the front lawn?

I am doubtful that Glacier NP will have WiFi access (Grizzlies often eat the routers), so if we stay in the park, we’ll go silent for three days. But if we stay in West Glacier, we may just be in touch. I’m beginning to like this kind of living:

Q: Where will we stay tomorrow?
A: Somewhere north of here.

Updated pics to the right.

"You mean there's an exterior of Bozeman??"

The "Roaming Ranchette" or "Monroetorhome" picked up its third vagabond minutes after noon yesterday, the 13th. Within minutes on I-90, I was aware that I was dealing with two experts in motorhome travel. Earl and Barbara are at ease behind the wheel, perhaps given the 2250 miles they've logged since their July 4th departure (surprise, surprise, Earl is keeping score). I started reading "Undaunted Courage" on my Michigan trip, and was delighted to find that the first landmark I'd see is the Yellowstone River (I'm still in the "westward journey" portion of the book, but I admit that last night I did sneak ahead to read Clark's description of the river on his return trip.) On our way to Bozeman we were treated to views of the Beartooth, Crazy, Bridger, Absaroka, and Gallatin ranges, all in the 100 or so miles from Billings to Belgrade (town just west of Bozeman that hosts the airport where Earl worked for seven years). The Gallatin Valley is shrouded in haze all the way around. Humidity, we wondered? Can’t be pollution, we thought. According to a helpful driver from the Avis car rental company, the haze is attributed to the wildfires raging in northern California. He says it comes and goes from day to day, subject to the changing winds.

We rented something considerably more maneuverable than a 34’ Fleetwood Bounder, and did a day tour of Bozeman. The Avis driver who picked us up (not the same as the aforementioned) lived on 11^th street in downtown Bozeman, about 1 ½ blocks from where Barbara grew up. They even had a common friend, a boy named Tommy Martin. Mom reports that he was a wild child, who took her to construction sites to root around in materials and dirt mounds. Earl’s reply: “So you learned about architecture from an early age and from the inside out.”

The Sabo family is near and dear to E & B’s hearts. It’s evident in every account that Earl offers. We visited their house on the corner of 3^rd and Harrison. Lo and behold, it’s on the National Registry of Historic Places. “Dr. F.I. Sabo” is mentioned on the placard outside the house, and E & B recall that it’s very much the same way it was in the 1950’s.

The most commonly used phrase was “It looks so different.” Case in point: It was difficult to find Montana Hall, the principal building of MSU, due to the campus sprawl. However, thanks to some minor traffic violations (service roads and sidewalks be damned!), we managed to sneak a peak at the building. Earl got out of the car gazed for a minute or two, took a picture, and returned to the car before “campus fuzz” caught on. He remembers walking from graduate housing up a long grassy slope (by my judgement, perhaps 100-200 yards) to the lone Montana Hall. Now, a sidewalk takes you past dorms, academic, and administrative buildings, among which Montana Hall is virtually lost. On it’s own, and respectfully ornate four-story building. Barbara recalls that Earl brought volumes of books from the 3^rd floor library of Montana Hall down the hill to Pauline, who gobbled up every one. According to Barbara, it was Pauline’s mission in her nine years in Bozeman to exhaust the library’s holdings. As far as she knows, she came pretty close.

Several other points of interest, the pharmacy, the arcade, the train station, are no longer. Both Barbara and Earl remarked that this news comes with a touch of sadness; however, Barbara is delighted that the old city that they knew is largely intact, although much has grown up around it. Parks are still in place, schools still standing, and bungalow homes have not fallen prey to the “McMansion” craze that’s happening in so many cities. From a freshman perspective, the town is a comfortable combination of vitality and nostalgia. And who could ask for a better amphitheater than the Bridger Range to the north, the Gallatin to the southeast, the Madison to the south, and the Tobacco Root to the west.

Tomorrow we’re off to Three Forks, where the Jefferson, Madison, and Gallatin Rivers confluence to form the Missouri River. Then to Helena.

Fun Fact: Thus far, Earl has spent $1401.26 on gasoline. After calculating, Earl barks, “Ask them, ‘How much did you pay for airfare?’”

"Thank Heaven for a Working Fridge."

...or so Earl said when Barbara asked him to comment on the trip so far. I spoke with Barbara yesterday, my first and only check-in with them since they headed off. When asked for comment, Earl mentioned the above cryptic comment. So we have to assume that something went wrong with the RV's refridgerator. However, Barbara reports that it is "fixed and refridgerating beautifully."

Their week was spent traversing the eastern states of WV, OH, IN, IL, IA, NE, SD, and arrived last night in MT, probably in the town of Hardin (get out your gazeteers). Only a week out, Earl and Barbara are one day ahead of schedule, but they promise it's not deliberate. The highlight so far was their visit to the Badlands. They didn't expound, but I assume it was the scenery, and not the gift shops, that caught their eye. In the town of Wall, SD, they visited Wall Drug, which in Barbara's words, is "famous for being famous." Some time in the 1930's, the owners advertised "Free Iced Water" to parched travelers. The self-promotion that followed made it a household name (to households that often talk about obscure tourist traps in the middle of nowhere). Wall Drug went so far as to post a road sign at the SOUTH POLE!! (Monroe Reunion 2013, anyone?) Pictures available in the slideshow below.

I am writing this from Chicago's O'Hare Airport, awaiting my flight to Denver, then to Billings. (Julie and I just spent a week with some friends in a cabin in Michigan not far from Muskegon, thus the Chicago departure.) I should join the Monroetorhome crew a little before 1:00 pm, then it's off to Bozeman, Glacier NP, and points west.

Should the promise of internet connections at motorhome campgrounds turn out to be a case of false advertising, subsequent posts may be few and far between (literally). However, we will do our best. That's all for now. 10 days 'til the Monroe Reunion 2008!! Thanks to Jean Cerar for her tireless work in coordinating, troubleshooting, and wrangling indecisive family members and state park officials.

And they're off!!

Although I haven't spoken with either Barbara or Earl (from here on out I will address them as most of you know them, rather than as "Mom" and "Grandpa."), we have to assume that they headed off this morning from Kensington. After all, could you imagine Earl allowing himself to fall behind on Day One? We wish them Godspeed. They should be toasting marshmallows somewhere in Parkersburg, WV right about now. Just across the Ohio River they begin their stroll down "Amnesia Lane," with visits to some key sites in Monroe, Stockton, and Lord history. Also included is Athens, OH, where Barbara went to college.

Fun Fact: Parkersburg is home to the Bureau of Public Debt, a division of the US Treasury. By the way, several "fun facts" will appear in the coming weeks. Most of this information, much like my Master's thesis, is a series of Cut/Pastes from Wikipedia. So, let's play a fun game! Look at the itinerary (it'll be on the main page, eventually), and find a city that we will soon be visiting. Go on Wikipedia and contribute some odd tidbit of trivia--something completely implausible whose mere suggestion draws looks of disbelief. Then, wager with fellow Monroe's as to whether or not I will, at some point, quote this tidbit as if it were empirical fact! I look forward to what you cook up on "Hanksville, UT."