Waverly To Tahoe and Beyond

Sandstone Falls

2012-10-24T13:47:00.001-04:00

Yes, I returned from out west but will have to continue writing about it later.
For now I leave you with a link to a side trip to Sandstone Falls, New River Gorge National River West Virginia I hope you enjoy the visit as much as Jeff and I did.

2012-06-25T11:29:00.001-04:00

Monday found Mary back at work, Jesse back up at the Lake for his own job and Flash the dog home, alone, getting used to all the new furniture. I know he spent much of his day testing each couch, chair and mattress for softness. Later in this travel saga Flash will take you on a walk around his new home. For now, though, join Jeff and I as we take to the road for a trip across Jack's Valley, between Carson City and Genoa Nevada.

This is where I want to live if I move to Nevada.

Named after an obscure Mormon pioneer who settled here just long enough to get his name attached, Jack's Valley is a beautiful, place with a slow, twelve mile, two-lane road that leads from Carson City to Genoa. It is currently a place of ranches dotted with small ponds filled with the water that flows not too far below the surface.

Each of these ranches used to butt up against the base of the Sierra Mountains, specifically the mountains that serve as the dam for Lake Tahoe whose uppermost level is a couple thousand feet above. Today, though, much of the land on the foothills side of Jack's Valley Road is in the hands of developers who are slowly selling million-dollar (plus) homes to whomever will buy them. The land bust that hit most of the United States and the world hit Nevada extremely hard. While this is bad for investors, it is good for nature lovers and people like me who like to see the wilder side of creation. Of course, you probably noticed that early in this post I said that I wanted to live there. If I had a million dollars to spend, I would probably buy one of those homes.

Where I really want to live, though is right downtown in the village of Genoa.

Genoa is the oldest non-native settlement in Nevada. It began with Mormon Station, whose original trading post was built in 1851. The Nevada State Parks web site has a video depicting the rebuilt Mormon Station. It is a small park in the middle of the quaint village.

Starting in 1848, during the California goldrush, people flocked to California across the California Trail. The final challenge of their journey was crossing the Sierra Mountains. The Sierras are rough, steep high mountains. Travelers needed to stock up on supplies before crossing the mountains. The Carson Valley of which includes Jack's Valley, was and is a fertile valley with a good supply of water. It was a perfect place to rest before crossing into California. At the time this was Utah Territory under the leadership of Governor, Brigham Young Most of the first settlers were members of the Latter Day Saints (Mormons). BrighamYoung appointed a judge to govern the area. He changed the name to Genoa. Most of the Mormon settlers left in 1857 when they were called back to Salt Lake City to defend it against the United States Army.

The town was probably named after Christopher Columbus' birth place, Genoa, Italy. In Nevada, we were told, the accent is placed on the first syllable. Genoa, Nevada is built against the base of a Sierra Mountain though it doesn't climb too high. The few streets are unpaved other than the main crossroad. Some of the homes are very old but well kept. Perhaps the best part of town for us is the Genoa Bar and Saloon, the oldest drinking establishment in Nevada. Genoa Bar and Saloon is the red brick building with white pillars in the photo, below. Luckily for you, it has its own web site, Click Here for anyone who wants to learn more. Any nice day (and there are many of them in this part of Nevada) finds motorcycles parked out front for it is an important stop on any bike trip. One of my favorite parts about the bar - other than its own Pale Ale offering - is the fact that it is one of the few places that make my house look clean. I am pretty sure that the place has never been dusted above knee level. The web site says that Raquel Welch's bra hangs from the ceiling but I have never noticed it - probably due to the dust. That is part of the charm that is the Genoa Bar and Saloon.

My current dream home is just around the corner from the bar.

Here is The Pink House. It has a lovely side yard that regularly runs through my imagination as the main character in garden ideas. Yes, I know it is a close contest between quaint and tacky with this home, but It has that wonderful porch, lovely wood inside and calls my name. While I would never choose to have a pink-painted house, it would have to stay that way because it was painted pink soon after it was built in 1856 by John Reese who established Mormon Station. It is currently priced at $575.00. that is wa-a-a-ay over my capabilities, being that I have made about $19.00 in 2012 from my writing. Still. . . just think of what I could write from that porch . . .

We will be back to Genoa.

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To read more on the early settlement of Genoa and the rest of Nevada choose a book from my store by clicking on the tab at the top of this page.

2012-06-22T09:24:00.000-04:00

Last night we slept in our daughter's new apartment. It was very empty but she had made up nice "beds"- mattresses on the floor- for us. Morning brought us a clear Sierra sunrise. Note the "D" for Douglas County on the hillside.

There are very few more photographs from this day because shortly after this one was taken we started emptying the U-Haul truck. We had been storing the fillings of a three-bedroom apartment. We now moved it upstairs into her new three-bedroom apartment. We had a pretty good system. I was in the truck unstacking and moving each box or piece of furniture to the edge of the truck. Jeff then carried it to the bottom of the stairs and our son, Jesse and Mary with their much younger knees and backs carried everything upstairs.

I, then started unpacking while they took the truck to pick up a couch and love seat that someone had generously given her. Yes, those pieces had to be carried up all the steps. (I would grow very tired of those steps.)

Mary and I next emptied all her kitchen supplies. After a very, very long day. she had almost everything unpacked and looking like "home."

She just wouldn't stop

Mary wasn't the only one with a new home. Right outside my bedroom window were Cliff swallows. I over-exposed the photo so that you may see inside.

Just over my window, above my eye sight, some pigeons roosted. From that spot they made pre-dawn gurgling noises that served as my vacation alarm clock.

Tomorrow, Mary goes to work, Jesse returns up the mountain to Tahoe and Jeff and I drive to one our favorite places Genoa, Nevada.

Day's End

2012-06-14T10:16:00.001-04:00

After a long windy day fighting our way across Utah and Nevada we were ready to enjoy a windless evening.

As a West Virginian, I am still I will never get used to the long sunsets of the flat lands.

Here, the sun evidently sees no reason to hurry.

It has plenty of time to artistically illuminate the clouds,

lay a bright finger upon a distant hill,

or to use a silhouette to remind us of the beauty of a naked tree.

Even the "golden arches" are pretty in the right light.

Light grabs the sky and holds on tightly.

A last successful attempt at romanticism

then with a last radiating burst our sun made its exit.

and we answered our children's texts with
"Soon. We'll be there very soon."

Nevada Winds

2012-06-09T09:33:00.002-04:00

We said good-bye to Utah and the Flats as climbed into Nevada.

Our first stop was the Pequop Truck stop. Importantly, it had "facilities."

We had high hopes that the wind would stop once we climbed this mountain, but as we descended into the the arid flatlands, we realized it wasn't to be.

Cool winds blew in off distant mountains, buffeting the U-Haul truck we drove.

By "buffeting" I mean "slammed" We could seldom drove the speed limit. Fear gripped us when an eighteen wheeler passed hoping it would get by before another gust blew the truk into our laps. We watched several blow clear off the road. Most big trucks went slower than us.

Tumbleweeds, wild horses, cowboys riding the range and a road runner are on my list of what I want to see when I travel out west. I can finally mark "tumbleweeds" off that list. As I post this photo, it is as hard now as it was then not to sing "See the Tum-ble-ing, Tumbleweeds" song by either Gene Autry, written by Bob Nolan from the movie of the same name. (I bet my sister started singing it as soon as she read that.)

Lunch found us in Elko Nevada. Elko is a mining area but, historically it has always been on a main east-west travel route. Jeff and I quickly drove through the casino-laden main strip of town. We made a stop at Sherman Station which looked interesting. It was also the Chamber of Commerce, promising information and a gift store. It was closed. I have found that for some reason there are a lot of closed tourist information centers. Many seem like they were "good ideas" without the funds to keep them going. We walked around, peeked in the windows and drove on. I think the photo, below, is the stage coach station, though it could be the blacksmith shop.

Below is a photo from an Elko NV web site. Sherman Station

Now, this isn't big news to you westerners, but to us in the eastern US and the rest of the world, it is interesting that most towns or counties have an initial on the side of a nearby mountain. Hence, the "E" below is for Elko. I guess here in the Appalachians, our mountains are so close and up on each other that we can never get far enough back to read a whole letter. (Some hollows have that same problem just trying to see the sun.)

Have I mentioned that the wind never stopped.

Rare blog photo of Nellie. She's holding her shirt down to keep the wind from undressing her.

I drove awhile to let Jeff try to sleep a little. At one time he awoke as a few cars passed us, "Man, those cars are going fast." My reply was, "Well, they may not going as fast as it appears." I was only driving 45 miles per hour. Have I mention it was windy?

There were plenty of wind warnings on the road.

We stopped at a rest-stop to change drivers and whatever else people do at rest-stops. I couldn't get my door open against the wind. Jeff helped me, though it was for his own good. He is pretty thin. Luckily for him, I am not. Can you picture him hanging on to me with both hands while his feet are flying up in the air? Have you seen that climax moment in the movie Twister? Well, it wasn't quite that bad but that is the way it comes up in my mind.

Crows hovered before being flipped sideways.
We were so tired.
Finally the sun began to set and the wind stopped. We were still tired but very thankful.

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Crossing the Flats

2012-06-06T08:03:00.001-04:00

While we could see mountains far ahead, all around us was flat and colorless

Looking more like water than ground, distant rocks apeared to be islands. Were we looking at the far off lake or was it an illusion? I thought of the frontier travelers. I thought of Jedediah Smith returning from California in 1827. What he had heard from the Native Americans could not have prepared him for this land.

The Donner-Reed Party crossing these flats in 1848 were definitely not prepared. The shortcut, named the Hastings cutoff, had been promoted by Lansford Hastings but was used very little after the Donner's much publicized troubles.

For eighty miles they trudged across the hostile land, its surface a crust which trapped wagons and made even walking hard. Water evaporated very quickly, here, during the hot summer. Then, during winter, the surface is often covered with a thin layer of rising ground water. This time of wet followed by rapid evaporation makes a thick crust through which heavy wagons easily break. The group lost most of their cattle and oxen, abandoned much of their stuff and had to carry their children.

The Donner-Reed party lost most of a "season" crossing the salt flats. It was late in the season when they finally reached the Sierra Mountains at Truckee Lake (now renamed Donner Lake). It was there that their troubles became much worse.

These ill-fated pioneers could not have imagined that a hundred years later folks would be speeding across the flats in race cars.

Named for Captain Benjamin L.E.Bonneville by by Joseph Reddeford Walker, whom Bonneville had employed to survey and map the area the Bonneville Flats is so flat that you can see the Earth's curvature. By 1896 it was recognized as a place for car races. It is now the place to go to beat any land speed record.

Jeff and I were far from breaking any record as we fought the strong cross-winds of the flats this day. With other tourists we laughed at the wind as we stood on the beach, a beach that bordered a sea of dry salt, not water.

We felt relief as we spotted the Town of Windover at the edge of the Flats. We assumed the town's name was descriptive.

For us that was far from true.

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Salt Flats

2012-05-20T08:50:00.000-04:00

Like these bikers and the pioneers of who settled the west coast of the United States, we headed across the great salt flats of Utah.

But unlike them we were comfortably inside a large metal vehicle. We had protection from the biting wind that the distant white cloud told us was coming.

Due to an extremely fluctuating Lake level the shoreline of the shallow Great Salt Lake is almost deserted. A building could be built right on the waterline one year then be hundreds of feet from the shore the next. The white in the photo, below is a line of hard mineral deposit that must be crossed to reach the lake.

Saltair is a resort that has been rebuilt and re-imagined several times through the years. The first version was in 1893.

photo used from wikipedia
At that time, a railroad was specifically built to take travelers to the resort. Some of the wooden pilings were still visible as we drove by.
Today Saltair III is a concert venue but it has had its share of troubles. When first built in 1981 flooding occurred shortly after it opened. The lake receded after several years allowing Saltair to reopen. The problem was that the lake kept receding until it was far from the venue which rested against Interstate 80. Very few events are held there anymore. The water you see below is a small wet area formed from building the interstate exit.

Another drawback to people enjoying life along the lake shore is that there is sometimes a funky odor left from the bodies of stranded water-life, left as the lake recedes.

For now the lake entertains boaters and fishermen and supports plenty of waterfowl.

For now, we left the lake and kept our car pointed toward the high peaks in the west.

Those mountains meant Nevada to us, our last state to cross before being reunited with our children. But first we had to cross the Salt Flats.

Oh, have I mentioned that it was getting very windy?

This was just the beginning of what was going to turn out to be a very long day.

Olympic Village and a Ancient Lake Bed

2012-05-18T09:28:00.003-04:00

Interstate 80 goes high through the mountains above Salt Lake City Utah. Park City is near the site of Utah Olympic Park

We were treated with views of ski slopes once used during the 2002 Winter Olympics.

There were also plenty of views that included condos built then and since. Aspens, looking much like matchsticks in this season before true spring, separate the village from the mountain.

Starting gates and steep slopes remind us that winter ended just a week ago for ski buffs.

To leave a mountain, we must go DOWN and down is where we went - quickly.

We continued down until a curve road took us to where we saw Salt Lake City sitting peaceful and large upon the floor of an ancient inland lake.

Lake Bonneville was once the size of Lake Michigan. That is ten times the size of one of its current descendants, the Great Salt Lake.

Three other remnants of this humongous body of water are Utah Lake, Sevier Lake and Rush Lake. Most of the water left Lake Bonneville through Red Rock Pass between fourteen and seventeen thousand years ago when lava flow probably flooded Bonneville lake over Red Rock Pass in Idaho. The huge flood eroded the pass which lost 300 feet of altitude as water gushed into what is now the Snake River valley

The City of Salt Lake City now sits beside the Great Salt Lake, a lake with no exit other than straight up. Evaporation is the only natural way out for water in the lake. Three major rivers flow into the Great Salt Lake bringing deposits of minerals, including naturally occurring salts. As the water evaporated the minerals get denser and denser.

Flags were flying high in Salt Lake City. Their warning did little to prepare us for what lay ahead as we crossed the Salt Flats then drove the width of Nevada.

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Secrets of the Cliff

2012-05-14T16:20:00.000-04:00

Utah's cliffs are pockmarked by time.

Wind has eroded pockets of darkness into the rocks

The raptor is almost hidden against this almost barren landscape. Do you see it?

Look toward the dark spot in the center of the photograph, in the grassy area. But what does this Red-tailed hawk carry?

Something dangles from its dangerous beak. A closer view of the rocks gives us a clue as to what it might be.

To the right, just under an overhang, shaded from the glaring sun are the nests of Cliff swallows. Baby swallows would be a tempting meal to the larger bird.

Once predator has met the young prey it circles, then sores . . .

. . . its red tail spreads against the blue, catches the sun then the raptor is gone and life goes on for the swallows who remain.

Are they aware of the danger they have just survived or do they go on, living the life they they have . . . this one and no other.

Fort Bridger

2012-05-07T10:08:00.000-04:00

Fort Bridger is located in a town of the same name, Fort Bridger, Wyoming. The fort, itself
is named after the mountain man, Jim Bridger who along with Louis Vasquez established a trading post on the site in 1842. It later became a Military fort, closed in 1890. Since then it has been purchased by the Wyoming Historic Landmark Commission becoming "Fort Bridger Sate Historic Site."
The fort look interesting and, having read lots about Jim Bridges, Jeff wanted to see it.

When we arrived, though, the fort was closed, something that never would have happened in Jim Bridger's day. We looked through the fence but could see only a few buildings.

When Jim Bridger and Louis Vasquez opened the trading post it became a major supplier for pioneers traveling west along the Oregon and Mormon Trails. The Mormons briefly held the fort until they were forced out by the United States Army.
When Bridger and Vasquez owned the fort they didn't miss many opportunities to make money. They even seem to have played an important part in the fate of the Donner Party. The Donners were a group of travelers headed west by way of the Oregon Trail. They had been encouraged to leave the main trail and use a new cut-off that would save them many miles. To get to the cutoff, they passed by Fort Bridger where they would renew their supplies. An earlier group who were taking the same route had sent a letter to the Donner party telling them to NOT take the route. It was too hard. For some reason, Bridger and Vasquez did not deliver the letter. The two entrepreneurs had much to gain if the more travelers used the new route. It didn't work out so well for the Donners who would become trapped in record high snows that arrived early in the Sierras. Most of the party would die and would be eaten by other party members.
There was a statue of Bridger at the entrance to the park.

It was a nice statue with the names of, what I think were contributors, written on stones at its base.

But look closely.

During the night or early hours of the morning. someone had draped a Jack rabbit over the end of Bridger's outstretched palm. It seems fitting for a man who began as a trapper. The rabbit had probably met its fate crossing the road as had several others on the nearby stretch of highway. For now Magpies were the most numerous tourists enjoying Fort Bridger.

Changing Landscapes

2012-05-04T12:33:00.000-04:00

At the end of my last post I told you that that was the end of Wyoming. Well. I was wrong, As I look over my photographs, I see that Wyoming is much farther across than I remember.

Our next morning found us in in a land that changed attitude with every turn of the road. Small communities rose off a sage brush floor in the shade of sheer cliffs and guarded by adamant rock formations.

Are they, "bluffs?" I asked. "Is that a butte?" Ever since grade school geography I have mixed up bluffs, buttes, and mesas. I think I have it now, but I'm still not sure when there is a big butte or a small mesa (yes, I know I said "big butte.")
In the morning, we packed our small bags into the U-Haul then continued West.

For you Westerners, I know it is no big deal, but for an Easterner like me, I never quite get used to seeing distant snow-capped mountains.

And that is why I have to keep showing you Wyoming even if you think you are ready for Utah. You are traveling with me. Like you, I was ready to be in Utah but I also needed to be sure to enjoy where I was at the time I was there. We stopped seldom, but we enjoyed what we saw. We appreciated the strange landscape.

We enjoyed seeing what, to others is common.

The wonder of it sometimes left us speechless as we both watched a scene fly by.

At those moments, we watched, we smiled and we rode on by.

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Out the Window

2012-05-01T11:46:00.000-04:00

The world passed by, changing rapidly as we made our way to Nevada

Between Cheyenne & Laramie Wyoming we passed very close to Buford Wyoming.

I was driving while Jeff held the camera. He was thinking fast when he quickly took this shot. It was surprising when we saw that he even got the Interstate 80 mile marker. It is interesting that once we had reached Reno, Jeff bought a newspaper which included a short story on Buford. For one thing it claims to be the smallest town in the United States. For another, it was for sale. According to the Wyoming Tribune Eagle the town did sell. At auction it brought a price of $900,000.00, bought by a couple men from Vietnam.

We were especially interested in the train tracks since we would be returning east by Amtrak. This particular train, below was long, full of containers from the west coast and Asia heading for population centers in the eastern United States.

Sites like these were what I always hoped for.

Some artist had a whimsical side.

President Lincoln greeted us at near Laramie Wyoming. The two-ton head sits atop a 30-foot granite pedestal at close to 8600 feet above sea level.

Day's end found us STILL in Wyoming but it offered us a heck of a sunset.

It slowly went from platinum

to amber, gold,

highlighted and darkening to black.

For now, good-night. I'll see you tomorrow from Utah!

Our Lady of Peace Shrine

2012-04-27T06:00:00.000-04:00

Pine Bluffs Wyoming is the site for Our Lady of Peace Shrine.
The thirty-foot statue of Mary, the mother of Jesus, patiently stands by as travelers pass by on Interstate 80.

Not far from the Nebraska state line, Our Lady went up in 1998. She is now surrounded other, smaller, statues and "stations of the cross."

To find out more about the sculpture you may go to this link.
Our Lady of Peace Shrine

Wyoming Dust

2012-04-25T22:05:00.001-04:00

In Wyoming the landscape became sparse.

Pointed spikes of Yucca clung tightly to the barren gray hillsides

Water easily evaporated off the red desert

Solitary windmills gave mere hints of water.

Water, the one thing that made green appear; allowed cattle to graze.

Wyoming Bound

2012-04-15T02:55:00.000-04:00

Slowly the landscape outside our windows changed. We began to climb out of Nebraska

Corn fields were interspersed with hay fields. We continued to climb until we reached Sidney Nebraska.

Sidney is in Cheyenne County, Nebraska, just a few miles north of Colorado and one county away from Wyoming. Sidney is also the Corporate headquarters of Cabela's. The headquarters was accompanied by a store which, like other Cabela's stores was huge. In case you aren't familiar with Cabela's, it is a store to buy anything you might use outdoors, particularly hunting and camping supplies. Most Cabela's have displays of large game animals. I went to one in Wheeling, West Virginia that had a large White-tailed deer exhibit (stuffed - I bet Ole from Ole's Big Game Steakhouse would enjoy the stuffed exhibits at Cabela's) This particular store with the Corporate headquarters were out in the middle of empty cattle country. Probably due to Cabela's there were a couple large chain motels and restaurants in Sidney's which otherwise seemed to be a cattle/farm community.

We passed Sidney by while outside the landscape was turning into cowboy scenery. These were the rock formations form television Westerns. While we were still in Nebraska, It looked more like Wyoming to me.

Only 94 miles to Cheyenne, Wyoming. the wind picked up as we slowly climbed

Irrigation turned barren brown low hills into squares of green.

Hills of rough boulders rose out of golden flat fields. A coyote loped across a drainage ditch. We drove onward.

The wind picked up. Coyote country drew us westward.

Kimball Nebraska is close to forty miles from the Wyoming state line. Here we stopped to change drivers.

As we approached the Wyoming line, we saw more and more oil and gas wells.

I remembered Wyoming is claimed as home for Dick Cheney, the ex Vice President of the United states who, recently, received a new heart

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Ole's Big Game Steakhouse

2012-04-12T00:41:00.000-04:00

Paxton is an empty town in the middle of oil and cattle country, Nebraska. It is in the Platte River basin. When I looked up where to eat on my Android phone, I saw Ole's Big Game Steakhouse and went to look at its web page. The restaurant looked pretty nice. It wasn't bad, but looks are deceiving.

Yes, it was right about Big Game. Ole's is in the middle of a small empty town but from the looks of the place I expect that it fills up at night when the ranchers and oil riggers. Either Ole or someone in Ole's family did a lot of "hunting" in africa. There are a lot of dead animals on the walls. This one above is a vicious herbivore, I think. Seems a bit like hunting cows. But, I guess I don't know. I've never met one face to face - well, not counting this face.

Alright, I admit this guy is scary. At least before he was killed and put on a restaurant wall. There was also a giraffe (who kills a giraffe?) a polar bear and every other type of animal that could possible be shot dead. It was a bit freaky to me sitting there with these animals looking at me. The food was alright, not bad but not good. There was a beautiful bar at one end of the building. It had a full-length table shuffleboard game. I bet it would be interesting on Friday night to visit the bar and restaurant. Probably, if you have been to Ole's often you don't even notice all those eyes.

This elephant came way out over and beyond a table.

Goodbye Platte River Birds

2012-04-11T12:10:00.002-04:00

Here is one last post from the Platte. Yes, I know, Canada geese are everywhere making them mundane. But that doesn't change their beauty, form and grace.

Sandhill Cranes

2012-04-07T23:43:00.000-04:00

Nebraska really does look like it does in the movies.. We saw groves of Cottonwoods along the Platte River - the kind to which cowboys tide their horses.

But what are those spots in the field?

Omigosh! I think those are cranes!

They are! Those are Sandhill cranes!

They are very well camouflaged Lesser sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis canadensis)

When I left home for our speedy drive across America from West Virginia to Reno Nevada, I hoped to see a Sandhill crane. On our last trip, (in the fall, one and a half years ago) I saw two Sandhill cranes beside a ranch pond near Genoa, Nevada. I didn't realize what I had seen until we were well past the cranes.

I hadn't known it, but Jeff knew that the Platte River in Nebraska was a major stop in the Sandhill crane's spring migration flight.

Once he told me that, I was really hoping to see one. My eyes were peeled.

This trip was one with almost no stops. We stopped to gas-up the truck about every two hundred miles and for meals but not for anything else. Once we came close to the Platte, I said, "I really would like to stop if we happen to see a Sandhill crane."

Ten minutes later I saw what you see in these photographs.

All photographs were taken from our car going about 70 miles per hour.

It is estimated that about 500,000 Sandhill cranes stop along the Platte River in Nebraska.

We saw several thousand.

They tended to be in fields which had been full of corn last summer. They spend their days in these fields getting the calories needed to complete their trip and to find mates. Their nights are spent roosting on the sand hills above the Platte. (ed. As you can see from the comment below from Julie Zickefoose, they actually roost "in" the river. Julie actually knows these things.)

In the fields the cranes search out kernels of corn left behind by the pickers.

Sandhill cranes have flown from Southern United States and must be hungry.

This area is a major stop on their way to the northern United States and southern Canada.

They mate for life and stay with their mate year 'round.

When migrating they migrate along with their offspring.

Their wingspan is about 5.3 feet for females to about 7 feet for males. They weigh 7.4 to 11 pounds respectably. They are beautiful. (I learned that on my own.)

One of the internet bird identifications said that seeing the Sandhill cranes along the Platte River is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I agree. My jaws hurt from Smiling. Thank-you to circumstantial fate.

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Air Views

2012-04-06T18:20:00.000-04:00

Just down the highway from the Shrine of the Holy Family (my last post) is the Strategic Air and Space museum. Their display along Interstate 81 includes these two jets:

When all your views are from the car, you tend to notice things up high such as this advertisement/water tower for Sapp Brothers Travel Centers.

More interesting to me, though were these Vulture nests along the Platte River.

This is still only our second day of travel and we are moving right along. Tomorrow we will continue along the Platte River along a major stop in the migration of Sandhill cranes.

Holy Family Shrine

2012-04-04T10:45:00.000-04:00

At Gretna, Nebraska, between Omaha and Lincoln is the Holy Family Shrine. Located beside Interstate 80, the shrine was built by the Catholic Church as a place for pilgrims to have a spiritual experience. Regular masses are held at the shrine and people may schedule special masses.
The glass encased shrine sits on a small knoll overlooking the stark Nebraska Prairie.

In front of the shrine is a large crucifix. According to the shrine's web page information HOLY FAMILY SHRINE including the pedestal the shrine stands forty-feet over the prairie. It weighs 2,820 pounds and is welded from stainless steel tubing. Michael Montag made the over eight-foot figure of Christ with a lost wax process. The crucifix, alone, is forty feet, representing the forty days of Lent.
I thought it particularly appropriate to have this post during Christian Holy Week, the week between Palm Sunday and Easter.

My next post will take us along the Platte River to see Sandhill cranes.

2012-04-03T21:33:00.000-04:00

Wyoming Windmills

A gentle breeze blows softly across the back of my hand.

There’s power in that hand.

It may accomplish much,

or nothing at all.

Hands, through the ages, have hammered, sawn, pulled levers and knobs;

building cities and towns.

Hands have harnessed the breezes.

The power of wind.

But wind, that unseen force refuses, to quit, to submit.

A timeless breeze continues.

It chafes my hand in passing.

A whisper of strength.

Wyoming Windmills

Iowa

2012-04-03T02:29:00.001-04:00

Traveling 800 miles a day is too many. The world goes by as a blur through the window, This is not the same as experiencing it. By the second day of our trip, our legs hurt and we were becoming restless. Gas usually costs $4.00/gallon discouraging us from taking this U-Haul truck very far off Interstate 74 or 80. Also, we were only allowed a specific amount of miles from West Virginia to Nevada. We didn't want to go over that number. So onward we drove . . . and drove.
Towns rushed by our window: Peoria and Davenport, Illinois. Then we crossed the Mississippi.
It is a long way across Iowa. I am sure Iowa is a nice place to live. The people are probably plenty nice, but they aren't real friendly. To me a friendly person can look you in the eye, might say, "hi." and will give more than yes/no answers in response to attempts at conversation. Probably Iowans would better be described as "reserved" rather than "unfriendly."
In two trips, nobody was ever mean to me in Iowa but once I was unable to get a conversation started with a bartender when there were only 4 people at the bar. Not rude, just not "friendly." But remember, I have spent most of my life in or visiting southeastern United States which sets a high bar for friendliness.
Finally we reached Council Bluff, Iowa. Near the end of our trip.
Council Bluff is/was the starting point of the Mormon Trail. Until the 1860's most wagon trains gathered here before heading west toward California and other newly settled lands. Transcontinental train travel slowed the wagon trains down but they continued intermittently until the the late 1800's.
Today, though Council Bluff is known for other things. Along with Omaha, Nebraska, it is part of a large metropolitan area. It is also home to some well-known Bridge Art.

Like many new art installations, this one comes with plenty of controversy. The "hands" have been blamed for at least one car accident and have brought Council Bluff plenty of insults and compliments. I believe they are supposed to represent the modernity of Council Bluff.
Some travelers have thought more of the hands of Edward Scissors Hands.
In the Mid 1800's the Stephens-Townsend-Murphy exploration party crossed the Missouri River at what is now Council Bluffs to blaze a new trail to and through the Sierra Nevada Mountains. In our rented truck, we followed mostly the same route now known as Interstate 80. When I thought about the struggles of those pioneers on the trail, traveling for weeks, trudging across America, I almost feel guilty for complaining. I said, "almost."
For now, like those Pioneers, we crossed the wide Missouri still driving west.

Where There's Smoke . . .

2012-03-31T01:29:00.000-04:00

We pushed forward into Thursday. Now the Sun was fully out but ahead looked like smoke.

It was very dark. I hoped it wasn't a home.

The closer we got, the more it looked like brush. From the brush piled in several fields and the limbs cut off of trees along the highway we deduced that the extremely mild winter had allowed farmers and road workers to cut much more brush than normal years.

Burning brush must be a very satisfying thing to do. You work real hard cutting and piling the brush and when you are finished, people can tell you have done something.

Burning a brush pile is more than just hard work. There is a skill to it. Maybe even an art. The limbs, branches and other matter must be stacked just right in order to have the pile burn completely away. All debris around the edges must be cleared in order to keep the fire from spreading. Also, you shouldn't light the fire then just watch it burn. As it organic matter is consumed, a good brush burner uses a pitchfork, and shovel to push brush from the edges onto the fire, usually laying it on end whenever possible rather than across the fire. Remember fire burns up more readily than across.

Ohio to Omaha

2012-03-29T22:46:00.000-04:00

If you read the last post then you know that this day started in the dark. 2:00 am, Thursday morning, was when we started. Daylight came in Indiana. For a mountain girl, Indiana is awful flat. The interstate is built up above the surrounding fields. For a girl (yes, I will stick with that fantasy, "girl.") from the hills and hollows of West Virginia, those fields were large. Very large.
Field followed field. Each was as brown and sterile as the last one. The best part was the hedge rows along the edge of the interstate.

With colors fit for Monet, the border smiled pastel pinks from Redbud and Crabapple trees, pale green offered by Wild olive bushes and scattered white from Hawthorn and Osage orange trees.

More surprising were the tree nurseries growing right along the interstate. I have left these photos as I saw them, with blurry foreground or guard rails and cars whizzing past and often with the oversize UHaul mirror in our way. (Remember you are traveling along with us.)

My favorite were the Redbud trees . . .

. . . peeking upon the road as we flew by.

Next stop, Illinois, then Iowa. For now, more than 800 miles from Waverly and twenty-one hours later, it is time to sleep.

Back to Tahoe

2012-03-29T19:45:00.003-04:00

In Darkness we are rolling across pavement away from home toward our children. We share the road with only a few trucks. Even truck drivers are asleep, their trucks filling rest stops and lined up on exit ramps.

We chose to cover familiar landscape in darkness. Morning will find us crossing new land as we head West.

What is is store? What visions await us? Hopefully no troubles. Our first gas fill-up is depressing. This U-Haul truck got nine miles to the gallon. We are moving the innards of a house across the country - delivering a home. In our truck we carry Grandma’s sheets & towels, Great-Grandma’s cookware, Aunt Mary’s furniture and Lisa’s passed down school supplies. This truck is loaded with love.

Through the days ahead I’ll post updates on our trip, both the interesting and the mundane but for now, the music is great, the traffic is low and the smell of chocolate chip cookies fills our cab. With the rising sun still far behind us we drive on, due west all the way to Reno.