From the Road: And this is Peachy, Signing off...

Dear Friends, Apologies for the long lapse in communications. Of course, I have no way of knowing if there is anyone out there who has persevered in spite of the dearth, but just in case, thank you for being a part of this remarkable year.

The last chapter reported on the two intrepid travelers in Idaho and Montana, and since then there have been adventures aplenty. However, since I have completed the circle, returned to Maryland, but have fallen so far behind in my writing, this post will be the last one, a dizzying and abbreviated tour of the second half of the year. During the coming year I hope to write up the whole trip, with photos, and if you might be interested in finding out about this, feel free to contact me at pennyspeachydrive2@hotmail.com.

Penny and Peachy On The Road, Washington to Maryland:

> The Yakima, Hood River, and Imperial Valleys, growing everything from fruit to nuts - and rice, olives, and vegetables in between

>A week with Park Ranger Son John in the Olympic Peninsula, surrounded by trees, incredible scenery, moss, and more trees

>Christmas with lots of family but not much snow at Lake Tahoe (Peachy's tire chains are still untried)

> A magical drive along the Pacific Coast with photo ops at every turn. California missions, Hearst Castle, seals sunbathing on the sand

> Border Patrol vehicles and checkpoints all along the border with Mexico, blue jeans among the sagebrush discarded by folks swimming across rather than walking over a bridge

> Hot springs, petroglyphs, tumble weeds, cliff dwellings, hostels, snakes, egrets, turtles, pelicans, dolphins, a jack rabbit, 13 javelins, and two bald eagles

> Thousands of daffodils planted by the roadsides, wild azaleas perfuming the air, curtains of wisteria draping 70 foot tree tops, and cypress knees wading in dark water

> Old forts, adobe ruins, earth-sheltered houses, and dwellings on stilts

> Warm welcomes at churches of many denominations, fellowship at church suppers, and helping to rebuild in Biloxi

>Beaches, deserts, cliffs, canyons, snow, jungles, mountains, lakes, rivers,

> Avocados, cherries, honey, walnuts strawberries, corn meal, eggs, dates, pine nuts and smoked salmon purchased from markets, roadside stands, and trucks by the side of the road

> Nice people who gave me directions, repaired Peachy, sold me propane and toothpaste, chatted around campfires, shared meals, and welcomed me into their church families

I sincerely hope that because of our trip more people are aware of Church World Service's "Water for Life, Water for All" program and that an extra well or two will be dug in an area of great need.

On a personal note, this trip was, in the words of my son-in-law, "Penny's Excellent Adventure". I reveled in the space and quiet, delighted in the new itinerary each day, and relearned appreciation for things as every-day and exceptional as sunrises, sunsets, stars, clouds, geology, and the generations who have blazed trails for us. My profound thanks to everyone who helped make this journey happen!

Shalom, Penny and Peachy

From the Road: Big Sky Country to Opal Heaven

Entering Montana along the Paradise Valley was a treat. A few miles in we turned off and I soaked in another hot spring while light snow floated down upon my head. It cleared up as we drove to Bozeman, a great college town with an awesome food co-op. Another kindly cousin put me up for several days, and I caught up on writing (sort of), laundry, and repacking Peachy. It is hard to believe that I can misplace things in a space so small, but I do with depressing regularity. As I have admitted before, I am not dependably domestic - and that includes being "tidy".

Montana's Big Sky was suitably impressive, and the perceived space was conducive to ruminating on new aspects of the journey. I have mentioned hauling water as a part of my experience, but here there was time to think about refugees and what their larger experience might feel like. I envisioned having to walk hours to fetch water and firewood, and when I looked around at the vast country - with no water or trees visible, my heart sank. When propane fuel for the camp stove, or Peachy's gas gauge ran low, I grew nervous, wondering how many miles to the next town. At night I locked myself into Peachy's relatively warm and protecting shell, and imagined sleeping on the ground, worrying about insects, snakes, bears, and humans with malice in their hearts. None of these fears were realized (except the insects and one night of rowdy raccoons who rifled the food box and ate everything but herb tea, and two glass jars filled with oatmeal l and lentils), but to a refugee or an evacuee, they are too often facts of life.

The statistics about living conditions, disease, violence, and rape in refugee camps is distressing. Some families have had to live in these camps for years, and things have not improved much in that time. The "Water for Life, Water for All" project of Church World Service is trying to improve conditions and relations between groups in places of conflict so that neighbors can live in peace and share resources, instead of living in a constant state of siege. As a matter of fact, the aims of the program are:

1. Water for Life - clean, accessible water for villages

2. Water for Food - water to grow crops and healthy livestock

3. Water for Health - water for sanitary facilities

4. Water for Peace - enough water for everyone to share, thus avoiding conflict between groups

5. Water for the Future - water to build up agricultural surpluses to sell

6. Water for All - the water sources to be kept in the control of the community, not sold to a for-profit company

These objectives take time and education to "catch on", and they are, indeed, working well in many parts of the world where CWS has been working for over 50 years. We in the USA have been blessed with abundant natural resources, and take much for granted, but we are also a generous nation, and have made life better for others in many countries around the globe. I am proud to be a partner with such admirable neighbors!

Onward to Idaho, over snowy passes and down into the flat again where there were bill boards advertising SPENCER - OPAL CAPITOL OF THE USA. Who could resist?

The opals were really beautiful, and there were pink ones! The route took us farther south, to a warm welcome at the U.C.C. Church in Pocatello, Idaho, and through more space and ruminations.

The major stop in Idaho was Craters of the Moon National Park, thousands of acres of black lava, both smooth and jagged, in cones, mounds, sheets, and cinder meadows, all starred with silver-leaved plants that shone brightly. Temperatures here are terribly hot during the day, and both plant and animal life have learned over time to protect themselves. Some of the astronauts trained here in preparation for going to the moon, learning in the process how to survive in a hostile environment

Speaking of stars, the nights we spent there in the park happened to be when the moon was new, and the stars were tremendous! There was also, surprisingly, lots of bird chirping to keep us company. Luckily there are paths through the lava - evidently the jagged type tears shoes to shreds in short order.

Church sign: "COME EARLY FOR A GOOD BACK SEAT"

Shalom, Penny and Peachy

From The Road: Return to the West, Roaming Wyoming

Wyoming was the next adventure on our journey, and it covered both the good and the bad - the ugly seemed to be away on vacation. We started out with a dramatic welcome, when a deer ran into the side of Peachy. I pulled over to collect my wits and check out the damage, and not only was there no mark on Peachy, but the deer had run off, and was nowhere to be seen. All's well that ends well?

The scenery in Wyoming covers the spectrum from piny mountains to flat prairie, to maroon and cream buttes. There were green verges along rivers, wildflowers here and there, and, of course, that amazing sky with clouds that enhance everything. One of the most striking features of this scenery is the towering basalt formation known as "Devil's Tower", also called by some Indian tribes, "Bear Lodge". I was fortunate to have caught the morning light on it, but during most of the day it is dark gray, a distinct contrast to the surrounding red rocks. It did look otherworldly enough to be the landing spot for beings from outer space. (ET anyone?)

Bear Lodge

Next stop, Cheyenne, a look through the Cheyenne Frontier Days Museum, and the very nice botanical garden (I drove in the wrong entrance, and ended up at the gate to the governor's mansion, but extricated us both before we could be hauled off for trespassing). The museum was the appointed meeting place where I met my host, a real rancher and cowman. It was a good thing he could lead us to the ranch, because the GPS was no help this time.

When I heard there was to be a "selling" (we would call it a roundup) while I was there, I asked if I could come along, and after some thought, the answer was,"yes". I ended up driving the pickup truck with the horse trailer (empty) for a couple of miles, and ended up in disgrace stalling it out on a small hill. There were three men guiding the cattle on horseback, and four on ATVs, and the pace was relaxed - not the mad rush you might see in films. Once in the corrals, plastic rattles were used to move the 350 steers who were loaded into seven trucks. In the olden days electric cattle prods were used, but PETA objected, and the guys said that the rattles worked just fine. At this point there were about ten men guiding the animals, and the state brand inspector checking for the correct markings on the left shoulder or flank. Afterwards, coffee, dough nuts, and good-humored kidding about the "tenderfoot's" driving ability.

On to Laramie and the art museum at the university there - showing an exhibit of photos of the nearby Red Desert, and a series of remarkable photographs of Antarctica. Talk about juxtaposition! From Laramie we drove west on the infamous Route 80, which has a reputation for strong winds. Right. That had to be the most strenuous driving I have ever done, but it was relieved in the middle by a stop in Saratoga Springs, several dips in The Hobo Pool, and a night camping beside Lake Saratoga in the company of squadrons of ducks.

Saratoga Hot Springs

After passing the huge open pit mine in Butte, an ecological horror, we struggled some more with the wind, finally stopping for the night in a commercial campground with too many bright lights (all night long), and trucks rumbling by on the nearby highway. It was cold. The rain turned to sleet, and I, once again, went out for a hot breakfast, this time at "Cruel Jack's".

From this point the weather cleared, and we enjoyed a beautiful visit at Fossil Butte. This National Park, in the southwest corner of the state, was one of the high points of the trip. The Visitor Center has a remarkable display of fossils, including a massive sheet of limestone sliced out out of the butte and mounted on the wall, and containing more than 350 really clear fish fossils. Then I hiked the Fossil Lake Trail, and the peace I felt sitting at the top of the trail, with the tremendous sky overhead, was memorable.

This is the View from Fossile Butte with Peach at the foot of the Hill

No story of Wyoming would be complete without a mention of Yellowstone National Park, and it was, indeed, spectacular. Please do go there yourself and admire the sights, but I will admit to liking best the Snake River, Geyser Basin, and Mammoth Hot Springs. Wyoming is a veritable textbook on geology, and while I was there I read a book by one of my favorite authors, John McPhee, entitled, "Rising From the Plains", about the geological features there and their history. Also woven into the geology is a great family story.

Minerva Terrace at Mammoth Hot Springs, Yellowstone National Park

How about a few more license plates? You might have to work to figure these out:

H8 2 BL8

NT L8YT

NT L8 YT

Shalom.

Above is Bear, the musical dog from Nebraska.

Well, OK, here, by popular demand, is a photo of the melodious midnight tenor at Lake Ogallala, Bear. Early in the morning after the concert, Bear and his owner set off in their pick-up truck to go fishing, and Peachy and I headed North, to Hot Springs, South Dakota.

These springs are more luke than hot, but they bubble up through a gravel layer in the bottom of a large swimming pool built decades ago. They did, however, include a really nifty water slide, so the visit was worthwhile. On the way out of town I noticed small pools in the river, steaming in the cool air, and labeled "Cowboy Soakin' Hole". Less costly, but no slide.

Our next stop was Wind Cave National Park, so named for the noise made by the air moving through the small original entrance to the cave. When atmospheric pressure is high, the air moves into the cave. When it is low, the wind whistles out, equalizing pressure, as it did the day I was there. I am not a fan of caves, but this one had interesting formations called "box work", honeycomb-like arrangement of calcite sheets.

The Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Monuments are probably familiar to just about everyone, and the camera battery gave out, so no photos, but I was properly awed, although I must admit to a fleeting wish that someone would clear away the mountain of rock debris at the feet of the presidents (this from someone who admits to being "...not dependably domestic").

We camped in the beautiful Black Hills, in Custer State Park, did the laundry, and enjoyed a buffalo burger to add to the regional food log, but passed up the local beer named "Moose Drool". In the morning we were off to investigate The Badlands.

Badlands National Park was established in 1939. It holds the largest expanse of protected prairie ecosystem is considered one of the world's richest fossil beds, and is one of the most successful reintroduction sites for the black-footed ferret. In addition, it is an awesome place! Some of the rock formations look like dripped sand castles, others are rounded lumps, looking much like giant scoops of slowly melting sherbet. Elaborate wedding cakes and rajah's palaces are other images that come to mind, layers of pink, cream, peach, and grey-lilac rock. Then there are others, dark grey that could be elephants' feet.

Cottonwood Campground welcomed us with shelters against the prevailing wind, swooping bluebirds, and a delightful couple from northern Iowa, two prairie dogs, and one rabbit. In the evening, spectacular stars and the calls of an owl were the entertainment. In the interpretive center I found another term to add to our list: armored mud balls. These occur in the park, and are formed when pebbles are swept along in a cloudburst, rolling downstream, and collecting mud and more pebbles as they go. Many are the size of baseballs.

This is the view of the interior of a sod house built in 1909.

I passed by the Minuteman Missile National Historic Site, and the famous (in--) Wall Drug Store. We did look in at the Prairie Homestead, however, to see the sod house built by Ed Brown in 1909. It was dug into the side of a hill, and finished with cottonwood logs, windows, and a roof of buffalo grass. It was cool in summer and warm in winter, in an area where temperatures range from minus 30 to plus 110 degrees.

Thence into North Dakota and more prairie, the very western (read; flat) Platte River, and several impressive Tribal Headquarters. In Fort Yates, the street signs are both in English and a phonetic version of the Standing Rock Sioux spoken language.

In Bismarck I was blessed with yet another extravagant welcome at the U.C.C. church, met friends of friends in Maryland, and was treated to lunch - and the first salad in three weeks. Moving out into the countryside after being in the city, we found more sunflowers, pastures, fields of wheat stubble, and bee hives, and antelope, sometimes grazing alongside the cattle.

There are national parks familiar to everyone, even if we have not actually seen them ourselves. Others are a complete blank, and I had never even heard of Theodore Roosevelt National Park before deciding it would be a convenient place to stop. It turned out to be one of my all-time favorites.

Roosevelt arrived here by train in 1883, when he was 24 years old, to hunt buffalo. He liked the area, bought a share in the Maltese Cross Cattle Ranch, and returned as often as he could for the peace of the out of doors. He witnessed the degradation of the rangeland and the decimating of the buffalo and other species, and in a speech in 1886 he declared, "It is not what we have that will make us a great nation; it is the way in which we use it." “.... so it is peculiarly incumbent on us here to-day so to act throughout our lives as to leave our children a heritage for which we will receive their blessing and not their curse."

As President he signed into law five national parks and eighteen national monuments, and formalized the U.S. Forest Service and 151 million acres of national forests. After reading the book "Collapse", by Jared Diamond, I am happy that we got a head start on preserving our ecology in the nineteenth century. That is a battle still raging, however, and we - and our children - will have to keep working to protect this beautiful land. Meanwhile, I am going to check out some books from the library and find out more about TR.

Bison roaming the prairies of Theodore Roosevelt National Park.

There were bison (buffalo, I still haven't figured out which is preferred), pronghorn, deer, wild turkeys, and "feral" horses along the park road. The turkeys played on a picnic table in our campground, and one evening on a late night trip to the restroom I shone my flashlight into the bushes to check out a rustling noise, and there were five wild horses browsing not ten feet from me. At least they weren't bears!

The only drawback to this visit was the rain, so in the morning I breakfasted at the Cowboy Cafe in Medora, Stetsons, and all, and then we were on our way to Wyoming.

A couple of church signs that caught my eye:

"FIGHT TRUTH DECAY, READ YOUR BIBLE DAILY'

"IT WASN'T THE APPLE ON THE TREE, IT WAS THE PAIR BENEATH"

From the Road: Nebraska, Exploring the West

Nebraska finally seemed like "The West". The corn and beans gave way to pasture, wheat, and scrub that (according to a brochure), hid more than 250 varieties of wildflowers - hence the many bee hives glimpsed along the way. The sky seemed to expand to an even greater immensity, and my feeling of "space" enlarged. Then, almost imperceptibly, pale blue mountains and buttes appeared on the horizon, slowly deepening in color, and suddenly, there was "Chimney Rock", a distinctive rock formation mentioned by almost every pioneer who wrote a journal.

In the interpretive center at the foot of the rock I learned that most of the movies had it wrong: the Indians were more helpful to the pioneers than otherwise, often selling them food, and providing them with moccasins when their eastern shoes gave out. Evidently everyone walked when possible to save the oxen from pulling extra weight, and shoes wore out in short order.

Now fast forward to 2007. Here I am, traveling with 21st century comforts, and yet every once in a while I lose my patience when it is cold, or raining, or the road takes the long way around to get over a mountain pass, or my clothes and/or person need washing, or .... you get the picture. I am, not coincidently, in the middle of reading "Centennial", by James Michener, and feel very wimpy when I compare my journey to the treks those hardy souls endured.

In Gothenberg we visited a genuine Pony Express Station, and, adding to my tally of regional foods, I enjoyed a really good steak. In Oshkosh we happened on a brilliant kaleidescope of color in a backyard dahlia garden, enlivening the otherwise grayish brown landscape. Alliance is the site of "Carhenge", which was fun, but not amazing, and the photos were disappointing. All along Route 30 we accompanied trains going at about the same speed. I never did manage to count the number of cars in each one, but that is probably just as well, since we stayed safely on the road. Most of the cars were heaped with coal, but there were others that provided some wondering.

At Lake Ogalala we camped beside a retired wheat farmer and his handsome and well-behaved dog, "Bear". Bear spent the afternoon quietly curled up next to his pick-up truck, but in the middle of the night, when the coyotes began to sing back and forth in the nearby hills, he piped up with a melodious tenor reply. In the morning his owner said that, while Bear had a pedigree, "...as long as your arm", his opinion was that there was defrinitely some wolf in Bear's ancestry.

We traveled along the Platte River, as had the folks on the Oregon Trail, the Mormon Trail, the Pony Express Trail, and the California trail. We even saw traces of the Oregon trail, sunken into the ground by the heavy wagon wheels and the feet of innumerable oxen. The routes needed to go where there was water and grass for the animals, but one historical sign said that the mosquitoes were fierce along there for both the animals and the humans.

Harking back to the dahlias that were so enchanting, one of my favorite quotes (by whom I do not know), is "God laughs in flowers".

Shalom for now.

From the Road: Emptied Cup for Grace-Catching, and a Little Piece of Holland

Lake Rathbun, Iowa, was the perfect place to recuperate from bruises. There was no one else around besides the kindly campground hosts, a few fishermen in row boats contemplating infinity (isn't that what fishermen do?), birds, more butterflies, and a pale green praying mantis who perched on my head one morning. The sunrises, sunsets, and stars were remarkable, and the weather just about perfect. There were even hot showers - and I mean HOT! One had to keep moving to avoid scalds. The lake was built and is managed by The Army Corps of Engineers, and I really appreciated being there.

Iowa lingers in my memory as more miles of corn and beans, good scents along the way (goldenrod?, asters?, corn?), the first earth-sheltered houses I had seen on the trip, (if I were going to build a house, I would certainly consider earth-sheltered), and two cities that hinted that I "... wasn't in Kansas OR Iowa any more".

Pella, Iowa looks like it came straight from Holland. Even the car wash looks Dutch. There were flowers everywhere, no litter anywhere, and signs with interesting things to eat. Lunch was a superb sausage/vegetable soup and a Dutch Letter, a pastry in the shape of an elongated "S" shape, and, for afternoon tea, a Dutch Pillow or Handkerchief (yet another pastry). There is a huge windmill, wonderful figures that perform every two hours in concert with the town clock, and an amazing Dutch Miniature Village on the second floor of the windmill. In the Spring Pella hosts a tulip festival, and that would definitely be a sight to see!

Not too many miles North of Pella is the city of Elkhorn, also boasting a windmill, but this time from Denmark. They also have a reconstructed tenth century Smithy's hut, built of logs,with grass and small flowers growing on the roof, and a copy of the statue of the Little Mermaid in the Town Park. It was fairly obvious that these cities represented pockets of Dutch and Danish folk who are proud of their ancestry, and are actively involved with preserving many of their distinctive ways of life. Of course I had to sample the Danish pastry, also.

One afternoon as I headed West, the dark clouds billowed overhead, but the horizon in front of us was brilliant with sun, and a wall of rain falling between us looked like a curtain of beads shimmering. By the time we reached the "curtain", it had evaporated, and we sailed through into the light. To celebrate, I stopped and ordered - shame! - a cheeseburger. At least I passed the fries by.

Another lake, a swoop of swallows, wild sunflower hedges along the road, three Canada geese in a "gefuffle" (as my mother used to call an altercation), and a heron with a voice like a rusty spring.

In Harlan I backed up to photograph a painting on a shed that was most likely an offshoot of the Barn Quilt Project. This effort was begun in Grundy County, Iowa, and was planned to refurbish barns more than 50 years old that were disappearing from the roadsides, tempt tourists onto the smaller highways, and engage townspeople - and especially youth- in something that celebrated a regional art (quilting). Much of the material and labor for the projects were volunteered, and 8' by8' quilt patterns were painted on the sides of barns. that had been repaired and repainted. This enthusiasm helped preserve many old barns, beautified the roadsides, and brought more visitors to towns bypassed by the big super highways. A win-win situation! The Barn Quilts have now spread to Illinois, Indiana, and Tennessee.

In Centerville, Iowa I found a wonderful library. It occupied an older, three-story-tall and elegant building, had a whole closet of books for sale (one of the joys of this trip has been the books encountered along the way), and, in the basement children's department, an old cast iron, claw-footed bathtub, lined with shag carpet, piled with colorful pillows, and the perfect cozy place for children to snuggle down and read. I was sorely tempted to try it out, but when I had finished buying the books, it was occupied by three giggling 5-year-olds. Oh well, another time.

"Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall." Annie Dillard in "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"

This may express why I am so immersed in the trip that I am slow in writing posts and letters.

A couple of new license plates:

"GAS HOWG" - on a huge RV

"ROSE PEDAL" - on a red PT Cruiser

Shalom.

From The Road: A Pleasant City Excursion and Elsewhere in Missouri

Peachy and I usually sidestepped cities, but we decided to go into St. Louis, MO, and were glad we did. The iconic Arch was visible from afar, and looked both ethereal and immense at the same time. It truly is a wonder. Couldn't figure out how to photograph it, and got a crick in my neck craning to see it all. Yes, I chickened out of riding to the top, partly because the day was rainy, and the visibility poor. I did ride on a "steamboat" named "Tom Sawyer", however, and met two really nice English women in the U.S. for a family wedding in Las Vegas and some sightseeing. I also enjoyed the city's many big trees, intriguing dooryard gardens and artwork, a magnificent Cathedral Basilica covered inside with mosaics (made of more than 41,500,000 tesserae in thousands of colors), a huge urban park with ponds and water lilies, and Grant's Farm.

A beautiful view from back in WY.

Grant's Farm is named for President Ulysses S. Grant, who once owned it, and who actually helped to build the log cabin still there today. The property now is owned by the beer company with the Clydesdales, and, in fact, is one of their breeding stables. I was wowed by the size of the stallions in their stalls, and enjoyed watching the cavorting foals and the placid dams in the paddocks. It is a wonderful place, with a zoo, a shuttle, wild animal park, and events. Everything is clean, everyone is friendly, and all together it was a total pleasure.

My hostess invited me to an informal dinner party with her fellow grad students, and I came away confidant that the future is going to be in the hands of a competent and caring new generation. Good news!

Once out of the city we winded our way North, along the river, enjoying the scenery and the tugs pushing barges loaded with coal or other things hidden by covers that looked somewhat like turtle shells. We camped near Tom Sawyer's cave the next night, a little South of Hannibal, MO. I ate fried catfish and toasted ravioli in my quest for regional food, and went to sleep with the song of crickets in my ears. The morning dawned clear and beautiful, but I spoiled it by falling while getting out of the upper bunk, scraping my hip and bruising my ribs on the milk crate used as a step. Ouch. As I moved around it improved, but I moved gingerly.

Fun friends.

Hannibal was once a very active port, and I walked along the levee, watching the river roll by, the tugs and barges going downstream, and admiring the riverside park with gardens and a Peace Pole. When I left the river, I noticed that Mark Twain was sitting on a corner bench, so went over to chat. The gentleman looked amazingly like Twain, but said he was sometimes taken for Albert Einstein, or Albert Schweitzer (all three of whom he noted, suffered from bad hair days). He signed a picture postcard for me, and left me with a Twain quote: "Kindness is something the blind can see and the deaf can hear."

When we left Hannibal, we continued North, past more soybeans and corn, a surprising number of roadside stands selling fireworks, and the occasional horse-drawn farming machine. I cut the driving short just across the Iowa border, and we found a beautiful lake built and managed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. We had it almost to ourselves, and the charge was only $6 a night, so we stayed there four nights, enjoying the birds, the stars, the nice couple hosting the campground, a spirited church service at The Church of the Nazarene on Sunday morning, and quiet time to heal the bruises.

My fortune from a Chinese cookie: "You will travel far and wide on both pleasure and business." Right on!

Shalom until next time.