Phase XXIV : Kansas

Now this one is going to be super-short.  Sorry, Kansas.

Kansas is flat.  Kansas grows a lot of crops.  Kansas has a lot of storms.  Kansas also returns us to the land of humidity and bugs.

The great thing about being flat is that our cell phone signal was essentially uninterrupted, so I could research and general bop around on the internet until I chose to drive because I was bored.

The great thing about Kansas having lots of crop fields is that they put Jesus in many of them.

We stopped at a truck stop for burritos at some point, and that was entertaining.  You have not had good people watching until you've sat at a lonely truck stop for awhile.  Try it.

As the sun went down, we stumbled into a camping area, a storm just on our tails.  I was thrilled to see lightning bugs again, as they don't have them out west, but we quickly had to close up the van against the threat of vicious mosquitoes.

Though the weather forecast originally predicted a 30% chance of rain, the storms raged that night.  Lightning pierced through my closed eyes and invaded my dreams, and thunder rocked the van.  I was grateful for Vincent, because tent camping in a storm isn't that great.

The next day I was sweaty, pock-marked by mosquitoes, and exhausted.

The first brewery we planned to hit was closed, so we had to come up with an alternate plan, quickly.  That lead us to Little Apple Brewing Co, which is located in a strip mall with a Jo-An Fabric, a Hobby Lobby, a Smoothie King, and a tanning place.

We did not meet anyone cool at Little Apple- they have table seating instead of bars.  Unfortunately, they were out of many of their beers, so we got what we could.  My brown ale was very tasty, if not really warm.  The burgers were outrageous, though.  They serve Certified Angus beef, and it is mighty tasty, if you're into that sort of thing.  The warm German potato salad was also delightful.

Next, we tried to scrounge up a second brewery, but nothing was coming together.  It was also very, very, very hot, and we were losing momentum very, very quickly with our little sleep.

We came up with the most no-brainer thing to do in Kansas:  The Oz Museum.

It was pretty adorable.  I feel like a lot of people have grown up watching "The Wizard of Oz" - generations, at least.  Walking through the halls of history and memorabilia was fun.  We sat in the theatre section for awhile and watched a few scenes from the movie as it played, too.

After the Oz Museum, we tried to brainstorm next steps, and other than obtaining large, cold beverages, we really couldn't come up with any plans.  This made Kansas officially our shortest stop in any state.  We decided the next step was the east part of Nebraska, with stops in Lincoln and Omaha, so we pointed Vincent in that direction, took great big swigs of our great big cold drinks, and off we went!

Phase XXIII : Colorado

You know, I kinda feel like Colorado got shorted.  There is just so much interesting stuff to do in Colorado, and we've been really winding down with our gusto.  I introduced Ryan to the word "denouement" the other day, and I really feel like that's our current mindset.  It's just about time for us to head home for a little bit, rest, regroup, buy new socks, and plan the next leg of our trip.

Fortunately, Ryan has spent a great deal of time in Colorado, so he's had a chance to see most of his ideal "to do" list.  Unfortunately, this was my first time in Colorado, so I already want to go back and do more.

Our first official stop in Colorado was at a brewery.  Shocking, no?  I had been driving for awhile, and getting hot and grumpy, and there are something like a million breweries in Colorado.  We found Buckhorn Brewing in something like two spontaneous right turns.

Buckhorn is my kind of place.  It's tucked back from the road, and it's a no-frills room where they serve home made beer at cellar temperature.  There are pretzels if you want them.  There are games, and wind-up toys, and wacky keychains.  The music was Bob Marley.  The bartender came out from behind the bar and sat with us for a spell, trading camping and vanning stories with us.

You know what's great about Colorado?  No humidity to speak of, and no bugs.  We sat there with the door open and a fan blowing us cool for hours.

Eventually, it occurred to us that, if we were going to find camping in the Rocky Mountains, we ought to get a hustle on, as it the sun was setting, and it was a Friday night.  We headed upwards into the mountains to find our proverbial tree under which we could park.

National Forests are supposed to be public lands, where you can camp as long as you aren't in the road or on privately-owned property.  The problem with this area is that it is ALL private property!  We looped around Estes Park, waved at the Stanley Hotel (because we weren't going to cough up $500 to stay there for the night), tried a few camping spots for the mountain climbers (packed), and eventually found a sign that said "Forest Access 2 Miles."  After two miles, the next sign said "Private Property - Next Three Miles."  After three more miles, we noticed the "No Trespassing" signs went away, and boom- there was a camping village.

Ryan chose the spot above the village- we had to drive slightly uphill to reach a mostly-level area with a fire ring and a clearing for a tent.  While Ryan settled things in the van, I did a lengthy search for a spot where I could go to the bathroom without all the campers seeing me.  As we were elevated above the other campers, everyone could see me as well as if I were Simba on Pride Rock.  I actually had to climb halfway up the mountain to get some privacy.

It was really pretty up there, though.  I climbed the rocks and just sat there, admiring the sunset for a bit before climbing down and turning in for the night.

When we formulated our plan the next morning, it was really very simple:  hike to Ouzel Falls, get cleaned up, have a drink at The Stanley, then head over to my aunt and uncle's house for the night.

Decked out in our hiking gear, Ryan fired up Vincent, who briefly headed in reverse, then coughed to a stop.

Ok.

Ryan tried again.  Wouldn't start.  Again.  Just coughing.  Through Vincent in neutral, and he slid slowly forward until his nose was resting on a large (if not incensed) pine tree.

Ryan's verdict was that, since we had been largely nose-down all night, the fuel system wasn't getting what it needed to gas up everything and ignite.  That's all well and good, but we were currently wedged face-down against a large tree.

"Maybe those guys over there with the huge dually could help us with a tow?" I suggested.  Ryan went back to fussing with the car, so I climbed back onto a rock and took in the scenery.

After about a half hour of Vincent not starting, the guys over there with the huge dually were more than happy to assist us.  They pulled Vincent back a few feet so Ryan could adjust the wheel and coast down to the dirt road.

Now Vincent was more level, but we were also in the middle of the road, and all the quad drivers and dirt bike riders really wanted to use that road to kick up some dust and get wild.  This time it was a pair of cowboys from Missouri who helped push us out of the road.

Ryan went to the top of the mountain to see if he could find cell phone service, and possibly to scream at the top of his lungs until he felt better.  I'm not sure.  I just sat behind the wheel of a van that wouldn't start and contemplated life.  It did not escape me that my aunt and uncle live just over an hour from that particular spot, and that my uncle knows a few things about cars.  I suggested I walk the several miles to the next town, get a signal, and contact them for help. 

Ryan insisted there must be a way to resolve this ourselves.  The suggestions ranged from "let's coast it down the hill and see if it starts itself" to "what if we bounce it."  We even tried to jump start it, in case it was the battery.  Meanwhile, Vincent sat there, saying nothing, but coughing gamely when we tried to start him.

Eventually, the nice guy who towed us earlier asked if he could try something.  Ryan was distracted, and I figure a broke thing is going to stay broke until it's fixed, so what harm could he do?

His name is Larry, by the way, this nice guy.  I have a long history of Good Sams by the name of Larry.  Larry hopped behind the wheel, cranked the ignition, stomped on the gas as hard as he could, and the engine turned over.  Just like that.  We gratefully handed over a six pack of various beers from across the country for his troubles.

So, at this point, it's about noon.  Ryan and I were kind of hungry, but we had a potentially 6 mile hike ahead of us, and I really hate eating when I'm hiking.  Gives me gut cramps.  When we pulled in to Rocky Mountain National Park some minutes later, the ranger on duty advised that our trailhead was at the end of the road, but parking was at a premium, so grab it when we could.

We parked a mile from our trailhead.  I know that because my app cheerfully chirped out "One Mile!" as we were getting on the trail. 

As I have mentioned before, altitude is not my friend.  I knew we were at a higher altitude when I got out of the van, but I had no idea how high we were, since there was still no cell phone signal.  It wasn't until well after the hike that I discovered we started at about 8000 feet, and climbed about 800 more.  I have not hiked above 7000 feet, and yes, I could tell a difference.

The first problem was the head pressure and weakness.  I felt drunk.  My legs didn't want to move the way I wanted them to move.  I wobbled instead of walked, and I tripped over the tiniest things.  But the trail was gorgeous.

Then came the wooziness.  I felt blurry.  I had to keep stopping to regroup and pull my mind together.  The trail, though it was lined with beautiful trees, was exposed to the sun, and groups of people were rushing up and down the trail at seemingly breakneck speed, and it was clouding my mind.

Last was the nausea.  I pushed to the point where I thought I was going to puke, and then I kept going.  I wanted to see the Ouzel Falls.

We finally got to a point where we could see the falls, and they were stunning.  Unfortunately, that's about all I had in me for this hike.  It was a real fail-hike.  We took a few pictures, then headed back down the trail.  I would like to point out that several of our fellow hikers were still resting on rocks alongside the trail as we came back down, so clearly I wasn't the only person affected by altitude!

After moping/hiking back to where Vincent was parked, my hiking app informed me we had gone nearly five and a half miles, so it wasn't a total waste of time.  I'm just still bummed that I didn't make the full trip.

I didn't want to go to the Stanley, either.  I didn't want to clean up, find decent clothes, put on make up, and deal with people.  As much as I love horror lore, I was better company for ghosts than actual humans.

This meant we could head directly to my aunt and uncle's house, which was perfectly fine with me.  Family is different- family gives you beer and lets you tell the story of why you're in a bad mood!

They were waiting in the driveway when we got there, and we immediately grabbed beers and headed to the back yard to gab for hours and hours.  Eventually, we realized it was dark, and Ryan and I hadn't eaten.  My aunt and I typically cobble together really great beer-fueled meals, but I had to sit this one out- I was running out of steam after a long day.

After some amazing seafood tacos with calamari and tuna filet and shrimp, we gassed around for awhile, then turned in for the night.  It was very, very nice being in a real bed, in a real house, with people I know, steps from a toilet, and an actual glass of water by my bed.

The next morning, though, I was feeling every one of the beers I drank the night before.  I know we go to breweries all the time, but we typically have one or two over the course of a couple hours.  It's a different experience.  Thankfully, by the time we got up and showered, my aunt and uncle were ready for brunch, so we headed to downtown Morrison, where we lubed up the guts with some delicious food at The Cow.

Afterwards, we wandered the town for a bit, checking out the shops, then headed to Red Rock Ampitheatre because it's absolutely awesome. 

That's it.  I got one picture.  We toured the whole place, including the museum and the art exhibit, and I took one picture.  I can tell you, though, that a ticket to see The Beatles at Red Rock in 1964 cost $6.60. 

After a bit of futzing back at the house and the giving of gifts all around, Ryan and I reorganized Vincent and headed out.  Since our experience with the tree, we had zero issues getting him fired up and hauling down the road.  Ryan even sang "On the Road Again" for awhile, until he realized he doesn't know the words.

And that's the state of things as they were when we entered Kansas.

Phase XXII: Nebraska Part 1

Geography being what it is, this next part gets a little wonky as we wind our way across the bread basket of the US.

From South Dakota, we headed into western Nebraska, which is largely known for its involvement in the western migration that occurred in the 1800s.  It also has ample opportunity to look at grass.

At this point, we found ourselves having a major road lag moment, so we found a cheap room for the night in Scotts Bluff or Scottsbluff or possibly Scott's Bluff, Nebraska.  I have seen it printed all three ways in various locations.  We had a lovely dinner of take out from The Wonderful House, because I thought the name was adorable.  Luckily enough, the food was rather wonderful.

While in the hotel, I pounded out the blog entries for Idaho, Wyoming, and South Dakota.  There has to be a perfect storm in order for me to bang one of these out:  I need some form of wifi, I need my Chrome book charged, and I need Ryan to be paying attention so I can ask him things like "what was the name of that Saison?  The one in Montana?  Where the guy told us about that trail?"  Right now, for example, we are in a remote camping area in Iowa, which has enough cell service that I can use my phone as a hotspot, and the laptop juice is on full.  It is also daylight, and we have enough bug juice that I can have the doors open while I type.  I am getting slightly gassed on this herbal bug juice, though.

So right.  Back to Nebraska.  When we awoke, we charged off to see Chimney Rock.  Chimney Rock is a very fragile geological feature that has been slowly succumbing to the torturous conditions of wind and water erosion, so average humans aren't allowed anywhere near it.  There is a telescope set up in the Visitor Center so you can get an up-close view.

As we walked in, Ryan joked that Chimney Rock looked "like a big rock wang," and sure enough, it's original name to the Native Americans was Elk's Penis.  Other than that, it's largely only famous as a trail marker on the Oregon Trail, and thus, the museum was largely dedicated to the chronicles of westward movement, with a heavy white-washing of what happened to the indigenous peoples.

As legend has it, when a group of would-be settlers got to the point where they could no longer tolerate the harsh conditions of travel, they had "seen the elephant."  Before long, I told Ryan I had seen the elephant, and we headed out.

One of my very close friends is from Nebraska, and she recommended I try Runza, if I had the chance.  That chance occurred right between Chimney Rock and Scotts Bluff.  And yes, if you have the chance, you should try Runza.  Mine was a bread pocket of seasoned meat, swiss, and sauteed mushrooms that burnt a hole through the wrapper and my leg, but it was good.  Everything about it was right- the seasoning, the salt, the grease factor - everything.

I was still wrapping up my Runza as we pulled into Scotts Bluff, so when the ranger explained there was a good mile-plus trail to the top, my stomach gurgled a very sincere protest.  Instead, Ryan and I drove to the top and wandered around a bit, enjoying the elevated view of western Nebraska.

Scotts Bluff was so named for a settler who was injured in the course of his travels.  A few variations on his sad tale exist, but essentially, his wounds were too great for him to continue, so he was left at the bluff, where he eventually passed away.  There is a marker in Mr. Scott's dedication at the top of the bluff, which has been decorated by the living.

Anyway.  A little more wandering, and we hit the road again.

As we hopped in the car, Ryan suddenly had a quest for knowledge.  "What year did Lewis and Clark set out?  Was it during the Civil War?  What years were the Civil War?  When was the Oregon Trail?  Where did it start?  Was that the same as the Louisiana Purchase?"  Now, I am all for learning, but it is really difficult to shout fifth grade history lessons over a driving prairie wind, so I made him pull over, and I drove while he used his phone to educate himself.

Rather than drive across Nebraska and double-back, we decided to head south into Colorado.  As such, there will be a Nebraska Part 2, but first, Colorado!

Phase XXI : South Dakota

When I was in high school, I met this guy named Steve who was convinced South Dakota was a conspiracy theory.  I don't remember the details, but basically, since the US Government didn't own the land, it was just not there.

I can now vouch that there is something there.  It's a very beautiful and powerful area, rich in diverse landscape and wildlife.  At the same time, I'm also very aware of the controversy surrounding the Black Hills area, so I felt very inappropriate being there.  I'm trying very hard to keep this blog free from political wanderings and just posting what we did and what we saw, but also, as a person, I am very respectful of other cultures and adamant about the rights of fellow human beings.  South Dakota was very challenging for me because of this belief, because of the ongoing turmoil for the American indigenous people.  If you'd like to get more into that, here's a basic summary of the situation, and I encourage you to read further and learn more.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Hills_Land_Claim

After Devils Tower, we headed to Wall Drug.  Somehow, Ryan had never heard of Wall Drug.  I made him do a little research while I drove, and after a long haul across more grasslands, we were there.

Wall Drug is, in theory, the opposite of things I like.  Super touristy, quirky, etc.  That being said, it was super hot, and we desperately needed an oasis.

It is obviously a hot day on Earth when I suffer a crowd of tourists hopped up on fudge and discount t-shirts in order to bask in air conditioning.  That being said, I couldn't help but admire Wall Drug's commitment to the ridiculous, twinged with bits of history and education.  It didn't take too long to find a quiet hallway lined with historic South Dakota pictures, and we absorbed some local history while folks loaded up on souvenirs.  And yes, we eventually got a little dorky, too.

After a quick pit stop for gas, ice, and more cold beverages, we headed into the Badlands, which is honestly just outside Wall, South Dakota.  Though it was still hot, I immediately felt more comfortable surrounded by nature.

We managed to score one of the rare in-park camping spots.  Due to the heat and the rampant bug situation, Ryan decided to set up the tent that night, rather than trying to sleep in the van.  The tent does a much better job of keeping the moquitoes out, and keeping the cover off allows for a full breeze to enter.

A park Ranger came by and gave all of us a lesson on how to use an atlatl, which amused us while the sun set.

Eventually, the entire campground as a unit decide to turn in for the night, and after we settled in, we realized the tent theory might not have been the best bet.  The coyotes were active all night, chasing the prairie dogs and ferrets.  The mosquitoes buzzed impatiently on the other side of the tent fabric, right by my head.  My back rejected the hard ground.  It was a very long, sleepless night.

On the flip side, that meant we were able to get up very early to head for the hike site.  The weather prediction was for a sultry 96 degrees, so we put our chances on an early hike having the best weather.

Unfortunately, it was a long drive to the other side of the park, and we got a little turned around trying to find the trailhead.  Ultimately, we decided to take the Saddle Pass Trail to the Medicine Loop trail for 4.5 miles of fun.

The Saddle Pass Trail is rated Strenuous, but it's only a quarter mile long.  In my exhausted, achy state, I figured I could give it a whirl.  It was truly difficult- the footing is loose gravel and sand, and the vertical incline is very sharp, meaning it helps to grab the rocks around you, rather than slide down the path on your face.  Unfortunately, the rocks are crumbly and break under your hands.  It was slow going, but I kinda felt proud of myself for making it to the top.

The trail loop on top was very, very easy, and lovely.  The sun was out, and the breeze was heavy, and the views were incomparable.

The only downside to this trail was that we were completely exposed, so as the sun rose and baked the Earth, so it did to our poor bodies.  We kept up a good pace and drank plenty of water and Gatorade, but the sun was relentless, and we were pretty excited to be back at Saddle Pass for the complicated descent.

Going down was even harder.  There were several times we almost wiped out, and a few of the more vertical sections I attacked by just sliding on my butt.  My hands took the brunt of the duty, while the sun absolutely beat down, causing an endless stream of sweat to pour into my eyes.

Ryan and I wound around folks who were changing their mind about the trail, hit the bottom, high-fived, and immediately marched to where Vincent waited.  I physically concentrated on not passing out on the way to the van, and when Ryan popped the back, we immediately scavenged the cooler for all the non-alcoholic beverages we could find.  Unfortunately, that wasn't a lot, and we made plans to obtain more fluids, stat.

But first, a close encounter with a bighorn sheep!

We left the park and headed straight for a grocery, where we bought $40 of liquids and ice for the cooler.  We then grabbed a quick dinner at Taco John's (which does not exist in Ohio), and thus fortified, hit a few breweries.

The first brewery was Lost Cabin, where we met a lovely woman and her mother, who gave us tips on hiking and camping in the area.  She was a kayak enthusiast, but she had visited all the major parks in the area, so she had some great tips.  Also, the barrel-aged black IPA was pretty darn tasty.

The next stop was Hay Camp Brewing.  Our bartender was a Vanagon enthusiast, so we talked about our vans for a bit, and then he gave us a map and directions to some camping he recommended for the night.  Again, meeting people at breweries is pretty fantastic, and again, the beer was very crisp and delicious.

Ryan wanted to hit Mount Rushmore, and again, I had trepidation about the situation.

Thankfully, it was over quickly, and Ryan and I hit the road to find a camping spot.

This proved to be the longest night of our trip.  We couldn't find camping anywhere in the National Forest.  We drove around in circles until about 1am, chasing false leads on Google.  Eventually, we gave up and found a campsite by a lake while lightning from an incoming storm flashed around us.

I spent the night keyed up and having a series of panic attacks, which meant another sleepless night.  Ryan awoke around 7, and we soon got on the road for our next stop- Wind Caves National Park.

Here is where I felt the most guilt.  Wind Caves is the site of the Lakota Origination story, meaning they believe all life began at that site.  And here I was, in my hiking boots, traipsing through their most sacred location.  I proceeded again with respect, and took a few pictures of geologically fascinating features.

Of all the caves we have visited, I would say Wind Cave was the most unique.  While Carlsbad and Mammoth are both very large, cavernous spaces, Wind Cave is very tight and shallow.  From a scientific perspective, it was really very fascinating to me.

With that, our time in South Dakota was done.  We drove through the plains a bit more, grabbed some lunch, and headed on to Nebraska.