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Saturday, August 11, 2012

Numbers to Home


This is what the Honda Odyssey looked like every evening when we stopped for the evening and every morning before we hit the road.  This picture was taken at 9:15 Saturday morning.  It contains bags for Leslie and I for our fifteen day trip, Jenna for her four weeks at camp and one week on the road home and Blaire for her two weeks at camp and the week to drive home.

One advantage of driving is you can over pack, and pack for comfort. For instance, to make it easier to sleep in many beds over a long journey, Leslie and I pack our pillows from home.  Since I have sleep apnea  I travel with a C-Pap machine; since we are packing pillows it is easy to add the small device to the pillow bag.

You notice the cooler, what you don't see is the box containing our mini(van) bar.  For as long as man has traveled he has knocked off the dust of the road with an adult beverage at the end of a day's travel.  Leslie and I belong to species homo sapiens and thus enjoy knocking the road dust off at the end of the day.  With beers costing up to $7-8 and cocktails up to $10-12 we save money by traveling with a couple of bottles of booze and several cans of mixers.  On the trip with us was Black Eagle bourbon and Mount Gay rum, for refreshing cocktails the former is usually paired with ginger ale and the latter with Fresca.

The bag with the orange handles you can see is the game bag for the kids, that along with the portable DVD player that runs off the van's DC current and we can go thousands of miles with two kids.

Traveling from Williams, Arizona we left the high desert and dropped to the Colorado River and California border. The Mojave Desert greeted us with 108 degree heat and desolate landscape.  As we neared Barstow a fierce desert thunderstorm tore across out path, very high winds from the south switched to coming from the north in less than a quarter mile--concerning me that we could be in some trouble from micro-tornado.  Rain cut visibility to about 100 yards or less.  The temperature dropped over thirty degrees. And within five minutes we were out of the storm.

After Barstow the kids really started counting down the miles and the time.  Jenna, who left the Smith Compound on Lime Avenue in the morning darkness Monday July 9th seemed the most anxious to get home.

Finally at 4:15 we pulled up to the house.


Our odometer rested at 32,001.  Those with good memory will recall our starting odometer read 27,003 on the morning of Saturday July 28th when Leslie and I departed on the Great American Road Trip.  With no tickets, flats, or any issues whatsoever from the Odyssey Leslie and I traveled 4,998 miles.

In our fifteen days we covered 14 states (California, Nevada, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico and Arizona).  The girls traveled through eight states (Minnesota through Arizona in list above plus California).  We crossed entire states from border to border either north-south or east-west eight times (Montana, North Dakota, Iowa, Missouri, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona). We stuck pretty much to our originally intended route with the exception of when we left Reno we stayed with highway 395, cutting back into California before heading into Oregon.

Speaking of the 395...if we were to get a ticket on this trip that highway through California and Reno would have been the most logical opportunity given the number of California and Nevada Highway Patrol we saw.  We saw more cops on the 395 Saturday and Sunday at the start of the trip than we did on the rest of the trip combined.

Our trip covered three times zones, Pacific, Mountain and Central; though the Odyssey clock remained on Home time.  Instead of Greenwich Mean Time we had Lime Avenue Mean Time.

We had 15 lunches and 14 breakfasts and dinners; of these only two were eaten in the car from a fast food joint (Wednesday from a DQ in Texas as we busted over 700 miles from Tulsa to Albuquerque and today in Needles from Jack as Jenna stressed the importance of getting home as soon as possible).

Jenna was gone for a total of 33 days, Blaire for 19 days, Leslie and I for 15 days and Harrison for no days--though he did kill a possum evidently around 3:00 a.m. the night of the earthquakes in Southern California much to the chagrin of super-house/dog-sitter Niece Jacqueline.

One number that is hard to judge without a scale is how much this ways.


Laundry!  A combined total of 82 days worth of laundry for the four of us.  The over and under is 8 loads.

I mentioned in yesterday's post our homecoming is bittersweet. We saw a lot of beautiful country, met a lot of wonderful people, caught up with some life long friends, and did it as a family creating memories we all will retain as long as we retain our memories.

As great as the trip was this is what it is all about at some point.


Coming home!

On the trip there was talk about next year, what route we should take, what we should see.  Colorado, Vegas and Bryce are on the list of possibilities.  Looking at the map if we can drop down to the I-80 in Nebraska to the I-76 through Denver then east to the I-15.....

Friday, August 10, 2012

Bittersweet

When last you left our intrepid band of travelers we were in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  We left Albuquerque for an easy day of 360 miles through the mesas of the Land of Enchantment and entered Arizona's eastern desert climbing up to 7000 feet and the pine country in the Flagstaff region arriving in Williams late in the afternoon.

Williams is an interesting town.  Labeled the "Gateway to the Grand Canyon" and on the original Route 66, Williams is a tourist town taking advantage of its two big draws: the Grand Canyon and Route 66 nostalgia.  Williams was the last town on the original 66 that was by-passed by I-40, that happened in 1984. We had a mediocre meal, but great pie, at one of the local diners then spent the evening walking Route 66 and popping into souvenir shops--it was a beautiful evening for strolling, mid-70's.

This morning we were up and at the Williams train depot by 9:00 to first catch a kitchy-perfectly over acted "western" show and then board the Grand Canyon Railroad for our 2:15 trip to the south rim of the Canyon. The train ride is a lot of fun, beautiful scenery as you climb about 1500 feet and wind through first the scrub brush high desert and then the pines and forests.  The railroad was established in 1919 and after being closed in the late 1960's a couple from Scottsdale purchased and revived the railroad in 1989.  Every car has a tour guide of sorts who goes through the history of the area, facts on the Grand Canyon during the ride.  Jenna and I played War as everyone watched the scenery through the windows.

At 11:45 we arrived at the depot at the Grand Canyon, walked up to the rim and were just speechless.  Leslie took a lot of pictures with her new Canon she purchased just before the trip, and after all most everyone said, "it doesn't do it justice...."  And it is true, no matter how good the photographer or the picture, until you are standing on the edge of the canyon, looking down one mile and across ten to fifteen and  just as far or further in either direction, you cannot comprehend the scope and beauty of the Grand Canyon.

As a bonus to our trip we saw three California Condors soaring over us, a magnificent bird in flight that is quite ugly when you get a close look (which we did when one perched on a rock outcropping about fifty feet away from the stone barrier on the rim), watching the birds with their enormous wingspan (up to twelve feet) soaring for miles without flapping their wings is mesmerizing.

Every ten feet down the path along the rim would open up a bit of a different view of the canyon.  Standing on the edge, even with a stone barrier and a gradual slope before the drop off, one feels somewhat acrophobic.  Looking through the binoculars at the floor and far canyons I felt eerily pulled towards the canyon--not a comfortable feeling for me.

After a break for lunch and walking around for three and a half hours in the 85 degree heat and high altitude we were a bit bushed and eagerly boarded the train at 3:15 for the ride back to Williams.  The guide had some jokes, there was a fake train robbery and Jenna and I finished our card game of War (victory to Dad) and relaxed to the steady rhythm and clickety-clack of the train.  At one point I reflected I did not have to make the hour drive down the hill but could sit back and relax on the train.

I highly recommend two things. First, if you have never visited the Grand Canyon, or if your kids have not, then do so.  It is a one day drive from Southern California--445 miles and 7 hours between Williams and Long Beach.  Second, take the train trip from Williams, it is fun, no hassle with driving, parking, etc.

Last evening as we were strolling, I looked at Leslie and said, "one more day... I am looking forward to home but really want to continue the journey."

So it is with bittersweet emotions that we go to bed on the penultimate night of our Great American road trip.  Leslie and I had a great week driving to Minnesota and spending all that time together without the kids.  Leslie and I then have had a great week driving back from Minnesota with Blaire and Jenna and spending all this time together with the kids.

Even with crummy Blackberry camera you can take a great photo of the Grand Canyon

Condor soaring above us and the canyon
Blaire has a new motto---hard to argue!

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

It's Big!

The West is big, really big.  Huge, immense, grand, pick your adjective and it fits the American West.  We saw it driving the valley of the Eastern Sierras, the vast hills of Eastern Oregon, the huge canyons of Idaho and Western Montana and the plains of Montana and North Dakota.

Today's drive once again brought home the incredible amount of space, land this nation has.  Leaving Tulsa we went through the Osage hills of northeastern Oklahoma into the central part of the state where wildfires have devastated Creek County with hundreds of homes being destroyed and then past Oklahoma City we entered the Plains.  The vast, open, see the curve of the earth on the horizon Plains of western Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle.  In the area around Amarillo, Texas town silos are like city skyscapers as they tower over the flat landscape, visible ten, twenty, thirty miles away.

Leaving Texas and driving through eastern New Mexico one begins to climb in altitude and the landscape becomes more green, trees and scrub brush are more prevalent and ranches the norm.  But again the vast size of the region leaves an impression of how lonely the frontiersmen, trappers and cowboys must have felt with no sign of other humans or any break in the landscape from horizon to horizon.  The advantage of the New Mexico traveler is the mountains that break from the prairie and climb to 10,000 feet.

Although our drive today was 650 miles and about 10 hours our drive was a geography lesson of the west as we left hill country for prairies for hill country for mountains.  It's big, real big, our American West.

When we arrived at our Best Western destination this evening the girls took a dip in the pool to cool off while Mom and Dad imbibed with cocktails from our car-bar by the pool. Afterwards we walked about a half mile to Old Town Albuquerque for dinner at Monica's El Portal.  I love chili verde and in Southern California it is almost always made with pork.

In Albuquerque chili verde is a chili sauce, very spicy, that is more of a sauce than a dish.  I had the chili verde chicken soup with rice. Served with the meals are sopapillas, a variety of tortilla dough that is fried and puffs up.  One of the best Mexican meals I have had, anywhere.

Today's picture is of the beer I enjoyed with my meal, a local brew that was excellent.

Tomorrow we have a relatively short trip into Northern Arizona past Flagstaff to Williams where we will bunk for two nights and make an excursion to the Grand Canyon on Friday.


Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Seeing Tulsa

What I feared would be a boring day for the girls as their Old Man dragged them around Tulsa saying, "I remember when....we used to....this is where..." all day was instead a day filled with some of the sights of people and they enjoyed it.  Phew!

After a bit of a late breakfast (to come clean, late for me the early riser, probably not so late for those on vacation--breakfast was 9:30 local) at a local diner with Judy Wright and her grandson--Judy being my Dad's cousin's wife, think of her as an aunt since we are talking Tulsa relations, we headed to the Philbrook Museum.  The Philbrook's original building was the home of Waite and Genevieve Phillips, as in Phillips Petroleum.  The 72 room mansion and 23 acres was donated during the Depression to the city of Tulsa as an art museum and center. When we were kids in the '60's my brother, sister and I would go to art classes held in the attic of the mansion.

Today Philbrook is a fabulous museum with Italian art from the 15th Century to modern Native American art.  The tremendous garden has several interesting sculptures and beautiful landscaping.  We arrived before the thermometer hit 90 degrees and the kids did a scavenger hunt finding rubbing-stones at different sites (they were given directions and blank pieces of paper and a crayon, at each rubbing stone they would put the paper on the stone and rub the crayon to get a relief of the picture on the stone).  They enjoyed finding the stones and we enjoyed the walk through the grounds.

Koi pond reflecting gazebo in Philbrook gardens Photo courtesy of Philbrook.org
We then explored the galleries and the kids engaged in another scavenger hunt. The air conditioning of the museum was quite a relief after experiencing the Tulsa summer.

Following the visit to Philbrook we took a driving tour of Tulsa showing the girls where their Opa, my dad, grew up, and very importantly we went to Goldie's.  Goldie's is a mandatory stop for the Smith family on any trip to Tulsa to get what we consider the best burger in the states.  Goldie's is now a franchise operation with several locations, we however go to the original, though much expanded from the original, site at 51st and Lewis.  Also mandatory is enjoying the Goldie's pickle bar.  Like many iconic places, like Dodger Stadium, Goldie's was founded in 1962--sharing the year with a certain someone writing this blog.  Daughter Blaire loves cheeseburgers so I have been waiting quite some time to bring her to our family hamburger mecca.

Blaire becomes another generation of Smith's to
enjoy the Goldie Special with cheese
After lunch we headed north of Tulsa to the Tulsa Air and Space Museum where Glenn Wright, Judy's husband and Dad's cousin and sort of like our uncle in Tulsa relations, is the Executive Director and very much the driving force in getting the museum built and continued operation over the years.  With an F-14 and other planes in the main building, great side exhibits focused on Tulsa's aviation history, from the story of the Tulsamerican, the last B-24 bomber built at the Boeing plant in Tulsa that was shot down during World War II to the bright orange Bell helicopter Glenn once landed in a vacant lot half a block away from where we are now staying, the museum is a terrific site for local and national aviation history.

Meandering back to our digs for a quick change we then enjoyed an leisurely dinner with our hosts Ann and Mickey Wilson, her son Steve Lake and family and Glen and Judy Wright.  A perfect ending to a wonderful day showing off my hometown to my daughters.

How did it go?  Blaire told me, "Tulsa is cool...not the temperature but you know cool." And Jenna told Leslie she did not want to leave, Leslie asked if it was because she didn't want to get in the car for a long trip and she said, no she just liked it and wanted to stay.  Dad's happy the trip went well and the girls did not get tired of the history lessons and trips down memory lanes.

Tomorrow we have a long haul, 650 miles west on I-40, through OKC (home to the Thunder for you Laker fans), Amarillo, Tucumcari and into the Best Western in Albuquerque for a stop over before we head to our final stop before home.

A familiar sign for our family as Dad worked for DX when
lived in Tulsa, when they merged with Sunoco we moved  from
Oklahoma to Philadelphia


It hit 104 degrees in Tulsa today, the restaurant with
West facing doors put napkins on the door handles so you
could open the doors without burning your hands!

My Hometown

Like everyone we have heard about the severe drought in the Midwest and seen the pictures of the depleted corn fields and the ears of corn missing kernels.  Driving through North Dakota, Minnesota and most of Iowa our untrained eyes saw what appeared to be healthy fields of corn, reminiscent of the fields we saw on last year's journey through Nebraska and South Dakota.

As we drove south from Des Moines yesterday we slowly saw more and more yellow and less and less green in the fields until we began to see field after field after field of corn crops that looked like Thanksgiving decorations, yellow and dry.  With severe heat the last month or more and lack of rainfall this part of the corn belt is taking it hard and will take many years to recover financially from their losses on their current crops.

South of Des Moines on Interstate 35 is Kansas City.  To me Kansas City used to mean the Royals and the Chiefs, but today means three words Bar B Cue.  As we were taking a pit stop to fill up and let out north of the city I called the Kansas City Chamber of Commerce.

"Kansas City Chamber of Commerce."

"Hello, we are from California and driving south on I-35 and then will continue south on highway 71 towards Joplin.  Since we are passing through Kansas City we would like to have some barbecue for lunch.  Can you recommend a place near our route?"

"Well we have a rather iconic barbecue you may want to try..."

Before she said it I knew what she was going to say and I started to salivate..."Arthur Bryant's."

Yes! Arthur Bryants! On our route! This is like a baseball fan being told, "yes we do have seats for you...in Yankee Stadium...and you will see a no hitter."  Or a Catholic being told, "yes we do have room for you in Mass...in the Sistine Chapel...and the Pope will conduct the service."

Arthur Bryant is a legend in barbecue and his original restaurant is a mecca for barbecue lovers.  Like me.

Arthur Bryant's
Leslie and I had pulled pork and Blaire had the ribs (Jenna is confused as to whether she is a vegetarian or not since she does not like vegetables, she had bread, pickles and fries--healthy we know).  Everything is served as a "sandwich" which means your meats come with pieces of white Wonder bread.  Delicious is an improper adjective, I'm not sure the English language has a word to properly describe our lunch.


Blaire enjoying her last rib---Dad is so proud!
After KC Leslie took the helm for the drive through southern Missouri as I sat in the "office" and worked on files for clients.

Finally around 4:00 we hit the Missouri-Oklahoma border, I was back in my birth state.  I reminded my daughters of their heritage in the state with their dad, uncle, sister, grandfather, great-grandfather and great-grandmother we all born here.

We arrived in Tulsa around 5:00 and I drove past the house where I grew up, told the girls about the first time I rode my bike, and other childhood stories. We then proceeded to our digs for the next few days, the home of my Godmother Ann Lake Wilson and her husband Mickey and proceeded to chat for hours telling stories and letting the kids soak up their family history.

Today we see the sights of Tulsa and more history lessons for Blaire and Jenna.  It has cooled off some and the thermometer may just crease 100 according to one weather report.

It's feels good to be back home in Tulsa and enjoying the people and places.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Camp Ends Part II Begins

Last summer when writing about our first Great American Road Trip I wrote about Camp Birchwood (link here for that blog) and why our girls are in camp in Minnesota.

Last evening the decision to send our girls was validated and for any parent with a daughter at Birchwood I can only say: keep sending them.

Sunday was get-away day at camp, the daily routine of activities broken up by packing bags for home, loading bags onto trucks and buses to be carted off to Minneapolis airport before the camp is awake and saying good-bye.  Sunday was end of session for the campers who were finishing a four week session, as our youngest Jenna was, and those finishing a two week session, as was older daughter Blaire.

The camp tradition for the final night of the session is the senior campers prepare a banquet for the camp and decorate the dining hall.  Last night's theme was Dr. Seuss and remembering how great it is to be a kid.  The seniors were very clever in their decorations and the night was a huge success culminating in awards being presented to campers for their reaching the highest awards in various disciplines, from sailing to archery to wilderness to riflery to riding.

Following the banquet is the final campfire.  For some of the girls, young ladies, it will be their last campfire at Birchwood as their lives take them onto college, jobs, sports team commitments or other pursuits.  The evening is filled with traditional campfire songs, more awards and presentation of honors for those girls who have attended Birchwood for five or ten years.

At the end of the evening Rachel Bredemus, who with husband Terry are the camp directors, lights a candle and invites those senior campers and junior counselors who wish to address the camp to come down and say a few words.  Before relinquishing the candle Rachel addresses the assembly that runs in age from eight year old campers to counselors in their early twenties.  Rachel asks them to reflect on the accomplishments they achieved during the summer at Birchwood, how they have set goals and achieved them, she tells them that life will have disappointments, that their hearts will be broken and there will be challenges but that no one will ever take away their accomplishments so keep striving to build their accomplishments.  She reminded them of the tools they gathered over the summer that will serve them well as they grow in life and become leaders of other young women. The cliche ending to the summer would be a "rah-rah, we love you!" speech, Rachel is not cliche and gave them the truth that life is not all rah-rah and rosy but the knowledge that everyone present has the skills and ability to overcome and continue to achieve no matter what life brings.

Listening to Rachel speak directly to this gathering running from girls to women in age and maturity I thought how fortunate they, and every other girl who has come through Birchwood, were to spend part of their summer, part of their childhood, with Rachel Bredemus and the other staff and campers assembled at Birchwood.  I was so very thankful my own two daughters have been able to be in this environment gaining confidence, learning how to cope with others without mom and/or dad to rescue them or to hide behind, being able to be themselves and just experience great joy throughout their summer.

After Rachel spoke the candle was passed from one speaker to the next, many of them very tearful as they end their time as campers after six, seven, eight years.  Some had some great advice for my daughters and others, one young lady learned how to sail at Birchwood, made her high school team and traveled the world because of sailing, she encouraged the campers to take the skills they learn and see how they can apply them back home; another young women who has been a camper and counselor at other camps told the gathering that Birchwood is a special place where everyone is held to a very high standard and everyone meets it; another speaker who was a camper for several years and has been a counselor for a few more encouraged them to continue to return to Camp Birchwood so they can continue to grow in an environment they cannot find at home.

Rachel Bredemus' ability to teach and nurture leadership, confidence, team work and team building to multiple generations of females all at the same time in the same setting year after year is tremendous.  Her talent shows in the speeches and words of her mentees as they address the next generation of girls to follow.  Every dad should be as fortunate to have someone like Rachel and her staff to be in his daughters' lives as I have been.


After a late bedtime and early wake up Leslie and I walked over to camp this morning to get the girls and begin our trip home.  After watching the first of two large coaches leave the camp filled with sleepy and weepy kids headed home to mom and dad, we piled into the van and started heading south.  It was time for the Smith's to officially begin Part II of the Great American Road Trip 2012.

The ride in the Odyssey was very different than the first 2600 miles--it was filled with chatter, retelling of stories, impromptu songs and an energy of two girls bursting with excitement waiting to tell their parents everything.  As we played 20 questions, learned about their adventures at camp and filled them in on some events they missed while at camp we drove out of the woods of Minnesota and through the cornfields. We got on our first major interstate (US 94) for the first time since we left the 405 in Southern California eight days ago, crossed onto the 35 south and saw the corn fields of Minnesota become the corn fields of Iowa.

Almost ten hours after leaving Camp Birchwood we pulled into our stop for the evening at the Hilton Garden Inn in West Des Moines.  Exhausted, excited and looking forward to our trip home and what we will see on the way.

Our next stop is a big one for me, the girls we be in Oklahoma for the first time, where their dad, uncle, aunt, grandfather, great grandfather and great-great-grandmother were all born.  We will spend the next two nights in Tulsa at the home of my godmother, Ann Lake Wilson and look forward to seeing family and friends--despite the well over 100 degree heat.

Jenna gives me her #1 Dad mug she made!



Saturday, August 4, 2012

All Together

Yesterday was a drive across the Northern Plains continuing on highway 2 across North Dakota. Along the way we pulled over so we could be the center of North America.  Literally.  Rugby, North Dakota is the geographic center of North America and has the monument to prove it.

Rugby, ND Geographic Center of North Dakota
  As you can see from the sky our day was mostly overcast, which was exciting for the residents of North Dakota who were eagerly awaiting the rain the storm behind these clouds.

About one o'clock local we had lunch in East Grand Forks having crossed the Red River into Minnesota.  We still had about 150 miles to go and were anxious to end the first part of our journey, arrive at Camp Birchwood and of course see Blaire and Jenna.

Just before the camp dinner bell rang at 5:30 we drove down the road and into camp

Road to Camp Birchwood
As we did last year Leslie and I have lodging in a trailer which is a short walk through the woods, past the tennis courts and rifle range and into camp proper.  Upon exiting the woods we saw two girls sitting in a hammock.  I said, "Is that Jenna?" Who saw her mom, jumped out of the hammock and sprinted into Leslie's arms.  Big, strong hug and tears of complete joy at seeing her mom for the first time in four weeks.  I too received a giant hug.

Jenna let us know she has done the required tasks to receive awards in riflery, tennis and sailing.  She was proud to tell me she had skippered a boat that day, I was proud to hear it.

As we entered the dining hall where a couple of hundred girls and their counselors and other staff were assembling for dinner Leslie went in search of Blaire.  After everyone sang the opening prayer song I went over to Blaire who still had tears in her eyes from seeing her mom, gave her a slight hug and kiss and got the message she was a bit embarrassed to go through this routine in front of her friends.  After dinner she did manage to come up to me with a big hug.  Phew, I thought she had turned into a teenager on me in the past two weeks!

After dinner we went to see the art show displaying the arts and crafts the girls had been working on then headed down to the lakeside deck to sit and enjoy the view while waiting for a show based on the Queen musical playing in London.

Here is the view of the Steamboat Lake, as you can see it is rather dark and windy.
Storm approaching Steamboat Lake
Camp owner/director Terry Bredemus, who was my counselor when I was a camper and whose dad was my dad's counselor when he was a camper, showed me the weather app on his iPhone.  Big storm headed to camp and the timing between the end of the camp show and the start of the storm would be close.  If the storm hit before the girls could get back to their cabins everyone would have to stay in the dining hall where the show was being performed.  He didn't want the girls running back to their cabins in a thunderstorm and high winds which could be dropping branches and trees.

As the girls all beat it back to their cabins minutes ahead of the storm Leslie and I joined Terry and his wife Rachel in their cabin to catch up and wait out the storm.  It was quite a blow, rain pelting the windows as the wind blew, lighting flashing, thunder booming.  I love a good thunderstorm and this was a good one.

Waking up this morning we see branches down around the area and sun peaking through the last of the clouds.

We have completed the first leg of our journey.  We are all together and tomorrow two more occupants will be in the Odyssey as we start the journey home and head to Des Moines.

Off to the traditional last Saturday breakfast of donuts on the lakeside deck.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Help Wanted

We are in Minot, North Dakota and looking at the activity there is no doubt it has an unemployment rate of 2.2%.  High employment and commercial activity was evident as soon as we entered the outskirts of Williston, North Dakota which is about twenty miles from the Montana border.

Oil and gas have fueled tremendous job growth in this state and workers are flocking here from all over the country.  Workers that is who want to work, and are willing to separate themselves for a steady paycheck.  I met a man in the elevator of our hotel who is from Mississippi.  He appeared to be in his late 50's and told me he had been here for a few weeks and is working on seismic drilling north of town.  Most importantly to him, "I have a guaranteed job for the next six months and then will most likely be able to hook up with something else."

Like workers in other eras during economic downturns, those coming to North Dakota are leaving families behind so they can earn a good income to send back to those families.  Rather than waiting for their 99 weeks to run out, these men, and women, aren't worried about the North Dakota winter cold or summer heat.  What they are worried about is feeding and housing their families.

The hotels here are filled with pick up trucks from out of state--we have seen license plates from Oklahoma, Minnesota, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Nebraska, Idaho and many other states.  The car dealer lots are filled with pick up trucks--the local Lincoln dealer's lot is filled with Ford pick ups overflowing from the Ford dealer down the street.  There are no "Sale--50% Off!" signs in the furniture store windows, instead the marquee out front is advertising for help, as it just about every other business in town.

Driving across the state on highway 2 we saw impromptu towns of mobile homes and trailers that have been put on huge lots for housing workers---one such "town" had about a hundred such trailers that looked like barracks lined up and a huge central hall that looked like a World War II airplane hanger with a large "Lodge" sign on it signifying it is the central gathering place.

I imagine this is what the boom towns in Oklahoma in the early 20th century, or California or Alaska in the 19th century looked like when oil and gold were discovered.  North Dakota is filled with boom towns, with plenty of jobs attracting men and women wanting to work.  Be it in the oil or gas fields or in industries supporting those jobs, or in building the infrastructure we have seen going up in towns across the state--hotels, restaurants, manufactured homes, roads.  Jobs, jobs, jobs are in this state unlike any other.

The boom in jobs in the gas and oil fields has more than trickled across the economy: restaurants, gas stations, grocery stores, furniture stores, car dealers, apartment landlords, department stores, shoe stores, hotels all are benefiting from the flow of paychecks. Next time you hear a politician say that public spending is needed to spur on economic development know they know little of how our economy works.  Minot, Williston and hundreds of other towns are seeing great economic activity not because of government programs, welfare checks, unemployment checks or social security disability checks.  They are growing because of private enterprise providing jobs that are paying into the government not taking out of it.

Why?  Because the state has aggressively pursued the extraction of oil and gas from it lands for the past several years, fighting the federal government on many occasions and finally being able to open up rich fields for extraction.  Seeing the robust activity and economic activity throughout the site I can only wonder, what if the elected officials and bureaucrats of California had been as active in pursuing the extraction of hydrocarbons from its land instead of actively blocking the drilling and extraction of oil and natural gas?

Final leg of the first half of our trip tomorrow, we should arrive at Camp Birchwood sometime just before or after the dinner bell rings.  Can't wait to see the girls!

Sign on the door of our hotel in Minot that is filled with out of state workers


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

The Hi-Line

CORRECTION! Before I begin today's update I must make a correction pointed out to me by Reno Mike Caltagirone.  We did not cross the Continental Divide yesterday in the Bitterroot Range, we crossed it this morning on highway 12 outside of Missoula.


Originally named after the BNSF railway line that cut across the northern states from Minnesota to Washington, now named after highway 2 which traverses the same states, the Hi-Line is where we find ourselves tonight in Havre, Montana.  (Not pronounced like the quarterback Favre [Far-ve] or the French port Le Havre [Le Hahhv] but as Leslie told me, pronounce it like, "you can have 'er). The Hi-Line is used to describe the region between the Canadian Border and about one hundred miles south.  Havre is evidently Hi-Line central.  We are approximately 35 miles from the Canadian border and if we climb to the top of the silo a few properties down we could see our northern neighbor.

During some of our route today the landscape was so vast we could easily see more than 35 miles from the top of one of the hundreds of hills we climbed across the great plains.  Great plains of rolling hills covered in golden wheat or golden prairie grass broken by sudden outcroppings of rock jutting up from the ground to several hundred feet or by vast cuts in the prairie made by the Missouri or other rivers and creeks.  This is the Great Plains and we have several hundred more miles to cross before we enter the forests of Minnesota on Friday.

Our current location is vastly different than where we started the day in Missoula.  After a breakfast at a locals spot recommended to us in the hotel bar in Pendleton we were on our way.  The local spot? What is it? My sister is screaming at her screen.  Paul's Pancake Parlor.  Not a house, a parlor.  We got to Paul's about 9:30 local and it was packed.  Many of the tables were filled with older locals who seemed to meet there every morning for coffee, some eggs and definitely pancakes.  If you are in Missoula there is no reason to go anywhere for breakfast but Paul's Pancake Parlor--none.  (Sharon I know this is now on your travel list--tip, the standard pancake order is 4 but they will do a half order if you ask).

Pushed away from the table we jumped onto highway 200 to Great Falls and drove through what I picture as Montana from Jimmy Stewart, Van Heflin, Clint Eastwood and of course John Wayne.  This was the west of the cowboys, huge open fields surrounded by heavily forested hills and sliced by fast running creeks and rivers. Ranches dotted the landscape and cattle grazed the ranges.  After following the Blackfoot River ("A River Runs Through It) for many miles we climbed and crossed the Continental Divide, for real this time, and  quickly dropped from over 5500 feet through the forest and to the Plains.

The change from forest and mountains to grassland was almost instant.  Looking at our route using Google Maps on the satellite mode you can see the sudden change in topography and geography.  It reminds me of visiting Colorado Springs with my Dad several summers ago and being on the eastern slope of the Rockies and seeing to the east the mountains suddenly stop and the plains of eastern Colorado and Nebraska beginning.

Right above the 287 market you can see the sudden stop of the mountains and start of the Great Plains

It was an easy day today, short at about 280 miles and about five hours.  Two more legs of about seven and then six hours and we will be at Camp Birchwood and seeing Blaire and Jenna and our dear friends the Bredemuses.

On The Trail

In 1803 President Thomas Jefferson changed world history and guaranteed the greatness of the United States of America.  The Louisiana Purchase from France was, in my mind, the single most important action of any President.  Acquiring what would become the American Midwest from France, Jefferson provided America its bread basket, its minerals for industrialization, a position by which to settle and acquire the lands west of the purchase and established the boundaries the nation would take.

Also in 1803 Jefferson sent two guys off to find a way to get from the then United States concentrated on the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Ocean via water.  So Meriweather Lewis and William Clark set out across the newly acquired lands and into and across the northern lands of what is now Montana, Idaho, Oregon and Washington.

So to did Leslie and Dennis Smith set out a mere 209 years later across Oregon, Washington, Idaho and Montana, though instead of horses and on foot our journey was in a Honda Odyssey with satellite radio and air conditioning.  What took Lewis and Clark several months in 1805 when they reached the Bitterroot Mountains to traverse from the east and then travel by canoe to the convergence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers took us several hours, much of which we spent pondering how Lewis and Clark made their crossing, albeit north or ours, of the mountain range.

But back to the beginning of the trail.  We left Pendleton, Oregon yesterday morning with a plan of travelling northeast to Walla Walla, Washington, then continuing northeast to Clarkston (WA)/Lewiston (ID), then further eastward and northward to Missoula, Montana.  We followed the plan, what was unplanned was the beauty of the American west that we would be experiencing.  What we also followed was a route marked as The Lewis and Clark Trail for most of our drive.

As mentioned in the previous post, coming into Pendleton from the south we drove through huge hills of grass lands.  Leaving Pendleton from the north we were immersed in thousands and thousands of acres of rolling wheat fields.  From Pendleton to Walla Walla we wound through and around golden fields undergoing harvest with giant pieces of farm equipment cutting the wheat, collecting and pouring into trailers.  Driving through towns meant driving past huge grain silos.  Wheat, wheat, wheat.

Partially harvested wheat field and silo
Exiting Walla Walla we saw more wheat but also other agriculture added, lots of orchards, some vineyards, and slowly more twists and turns, more copse of trees and the terrain became a bit less round and a bit more sharp.  As we approached the Washington-Idaho border we started running a long a very wide river, it was the Snake River.  Every man who was a boy when I was knows the Snake River for one reason: Evel Knievel and his attempt to jump the Snake River and one of its widest canyons on a rocket-motorcycle.

Our experience of the Snake River was short lived.  What we did see what major commerce on the river, huge piles of grain and logs on the far banks with ports to load the materials onto barges to be taken down the Snake to the Columbia River and eventually to the Pacific near Astoria, Oregon.  Where Washington and Idaho meet so to do the Clearwater and Snake Rivers meet.

After lunch in Lewiston, Idaho we set out on highway 12 and for the next several hundred miles followed the Clearwater River as it wound its way through valleys and canyons.  It was a most incredible drive with sharp mountain walls filled with towering pines falling right to the water's edge.  We were constantly being passed by trucks loaded with felled trees heading south.  On the river families were floating on intertubes anchored to the river bottom, guys were standing in the rushing water enticing trout with their flies.  Looking up into the hills so densely forested Leslie and kept wondering how it must have been to travel the area two hundred years ago.

Clearwater River along Hwy 12
Finally after several hours of winding road we began to climb and leave the river behind.  We climbed to 5200 feet and the Lolo Pass which breached through the Bitterroot range.  As we cleared the pass we also cleared the border from Idaho into Montana, cleared from Pacific to Mountain time and cleared the Continental Divide.  Until we cross New Mexico sometime next Wednesday or Thursday all rivers and creeks we see will no longer eventually drain into the Pacific.

Driving into Missoula we left the steep mountains behind us and wound through forests and open meadows, much as I pictured Montana to be.

While yesterday's journey was only 350 miles it took us eight hours, most of it on winding roads that required complete driver alertness, all of it on roads that once again had us in wonder of the beauty of our country.  We were very happy to pull into the motor court of the C'mon Inn to have an in room cocktail and reflect on our day's sights.

Traveling our route yesterday somewhat following the trail of Meriweather Lewis and William Clark we could only marvel at the courage and the incredible spirit their party must have had.  While we were exhausted after eight hours in a comfortable vehicle traveling on a well maintained roads we were also in awe of their journey and what they must have experienced as each day Nature unfolded before them.

Here is a link to National Geographic website on Lewis and Clark, you can click on the different legs of their journey.



In 1803 President Thomas Jefferson changed world history and guaranteed the greatness of the United States of America.  The Louisiana Purchase from France was, in my mind, the single most important action of any President.  Acquiring what would become the American Midwest from France, Jefferson provided America its bread basket, its minerals for industrialization, a position by which to settle and acquire the lands west of the purchase and established the boundaries the nation would take.

Also in 1803 Jefferson sent two guys off to find a way to get from the then United States concentrated on the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Ocean via water.  So Meriweather Lewis and William Clark set out across the newly acquired lands and into and across the northern lands of what is now Montana, Idaho, Oregon and Washington.

So to did Leslie and Dennis Smith set out a mere 209 years later across Oregon, Washington, Idaho and Montana, though instead of horses and on foot our journey was in a Honda Odyssey with satellite radio and air conditioning.  What took Lewis and Clark several months in 1805 when they reached the Bitterroot Mountains to traverse from the east and then travel by canoe to the convergence of the Clearwater and Snake Rivers took us several hours, much of which we spent pondering how Lewis and Clark made their crossing, albeit north or ours, of the mountain range.

But back to the beginning of the trail.  We left Pendleton, Oregon yesterday morning with a plan of travelling northeast to Walla Walla, Washington, then continuing northeast to Clarkston (WA)/Lewiston (ID), then further eastward and northward to Missoula, Montana.  We followed the plan, what was unplanned was the beauty of the American west that we would be experiencing.  What we also followed was a route marked as The Lewis and Clark Trail for most of our drive.

As mentioned in the previous post, coming into Pendleton from the south we drove through huge hills of grass lands.  Leaving Pendleton from the north we were immersed in thousands and thousands of acres of rolling wheat fields.  From Pendleton to Walla Walla we wound through and around golden fields undergoing harvest with giant pieces of farm equipment cutting the wheat, collecting and pouring into trailers.  Driving through towns meant driving past huge grain silos.  Wheat, wheat, wheat.

Partially harvested wheat field and silo
Exiting Walla Walla we saw more wheat but also other agriculture added, lots of orchards, some vineyards, and slowly more twists and turns, more copse of trees and the terrain became a bit less round and a bit more sharp.  As we approached the Washington-Idaho border we started running a long a very wide river, it was the Snake River.  Every man who was a boy when I was knows the Snake River for one reason: Evel Knievel and his attempt to jump the Snake River and one of its widest canyons on a rocket-motorcycle.

Our experience of the Snake River was short lived.  What we did see what major commerce on the river, huge piles of grain and logs on the far banks with ports to load the materials onto barges to be taken down the Snake to the Columbia River and eventually to the Pacific near Astoria, Oregon.  Where Washington and Idaho meet so to do the Clearwater and Snake Rivers meet.

After lunch in Lewiston, Idaho we set out on highway 12 and for the next several hundred miles followed the Clearwater River as it wound its way through valleys and canyons.  It was a most incredible drive with sharp mountain walls filled with towering pines falling right to the water's edge.  We were constantly being passed by trucks loaded with felled trees heading south.  On the river families were floating on inner-tubes anchored to the river bottom, guys were standing in the rushing water enticing trout with their flies.  Looking up into the hills so densely forested Leslie and kept wondering how it must have been to travel the area two hundred years ago.

Clearwater River along Hwy 12
Finally after several hours of winding road we began to climb and leave the river behind.  We climbed to 5200 feet and the Lolo Pass which breached through the Bitterroot range.  As we cleared the pass we also cleared the border from Idaho into Montana, cleared from Pacific to Mountain time and cleared the Continental Divide.  Until we cross New Mexico sometime next Wednesday or Thursday all rivers and creeks we see will no longer eventually drain into the Pacific.

Driving into Missoula we left the steep mountains behind us and wound through forests and open meadows, much as I pictured Montana to be.

While yesterday's journey was only 350 miles it took us eight hours, most of it on winding roads that required complete driver alertness, all of it on roads that once again had us in wonder of the beauty of our country.  We were very happy to pull into the motor court of the C'mon Inn to have an in room cocktail and reflect on our day's sights.

Traveling our route yesterday somewhat following the trail of Meriweather Lewis and William Clark we could only marvel at the courage and the incredible spirit their party must have had.  While we were exhausted after eight hours in a comfortable vehicle traveling on a well maintained roads we were also in awe of their journey and what they must have experienced as each day Nature unfolded before them.

Here is a link to National Geographic website on Lewis and Clark, you can click on the different legs of their journey.

The C'mon Inn, Missoula, MT