The View From Camp Kreitzer

Checking Key West Off Our Bucket List

2012-02-19T19:11:00.001-08:00

We spent the last two weeks travelling from Virginia to the Florida Keys and back. Our ultimate destination was Key West and, while we enjoyed our three days there, I'm not in a hurry to go back. The Keys are a coral beach and they have to import their sand. There are lots of stones and few sea shells although I did pick up a sponge on the beach. I decided not to take it in the car. Sponges have a reputation for really stinking.

What I liked best about our visit to Key West was the time we spent at Mary, Star of the Sea Catholic Church. They have a perpetual adoration chapel which is lovely and we stopped to say our rosary and then visit the gardens and grotto to Our Lady of Lourdes. The Church is the second oldest in Florida (I think the first is St. Augustine) and it was recently raised to basilica status, the fifth in Florida.

While we enjoyed walking around in shirt sleeves for our trip, I'm not sold on becoming snow birds. I kind of like cold weather. For one thing, it makes one really appreciate those unseasonal warm days that come as little mid-winter surprises. Besides, Florida is filled with old, and I mean really old, people. We went to Mass at one church and among about five hundred worshipers, I saw ONE elementary age child with an older teen I presume was his brother. Now CCD was the next day, but still that has to be a record. We certainly have more children at our vigil mass in our tiny parish than that. So we'll happily stick with our Virginia winters. It really is my favorite place of all. No matter where I go, Virginia is home.

The Poseidon Adventure: A Great Adventure Book

2012-01-18T10:10:00.000-08:00

I gave my book club Paul Gallico's novel, The Poseidon Adventure, for Christmas and we are reading it for January. What a great adventure book and, in fact, I think it could be the model for writing an exciting work of fiction. Bring together an interesting assortment of characters, put them together in a plausible situation, give them a common goal, place obstacles on the way to achieving it, have them develop as the novel progresses, and, in the end, provide a believable and satisfying resolution.

If you've never read a Paul Gallico novel, I recommend him. I first "met" the author in high school when we read The Snow Goose, a short work about a deformed artist and his friendship with a young girl and an injured snow goose. He lives in a lighthouse on the shore of England and sails to Dunkirk to help evacuate the trapped troops there. It is a modern fairy tale that has an almost poetic beauty.

Another novel, Trial by Terror, is a gripping story of an arrogant journalist who slips behind the Iron Curtain into Hungary after the execution of an American "spy" in 1950. He is captured, himself accused of being a spy, and subjected to torture and a show trial. The book was published in 1951 only a few years after Cardinal Joseph Mindszenty's arrest and show trial. I wondered when I read the book whether Gallico had that in mind as he described the interrogation, drugs, and torture used to break the journalist. He ends up confessing to everything just as the cardinal did in the end.

I look forward to reading more Gallico. His personal life was less than exemplary, but he had a great gift as both a correspondent and story-teller. One of his tales is The Small Miracle about a little boy who seeks help from the pope to cure his sick donkey. Somehow, I think the Lord will be merciful to a man with the childlike nature to write such a book.

December: Anticipation and Celebration

2012-01-06T11:13:00.000-08:00

The first week of Advent can't help but bring a sense of anticipation for the joyful season to come. "The people in darkness have seen a great light." For me December is an invitation to look up at the sky searching for the star that leads wise men to Bethlehem. When I was a child I always gave up something during Advent, something I liked. It was a reminder of this time of waiting with the anticipation of enjoying it again when the feasting time arrived.

As I write this, December is already past and I realize my Advent would have been better if I had resurrected that child's habit and given up something. But I didn't. Why, I wonder? It is easier not to, I guess, despite there being lots to choose from: desserts, coffee (even cream in my coffee), wine, between meal snacks. Oh, the litany makes me ashamed to be such a slacker. Will I enjoy the feast as much when I ignored the fast? Perhaps I can excuse myself by saying I did something positive. The choices there are many as well: ten minutes of daily spiritual reading, adding some extra prayers to the daily regimen, extending the weekly holy hour by ten minutes, adding a special prayer every day for the Poor Souls in Purgatory who wait in anticipation of heaven? Alas, no, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Aside from lighting our Advent wreath and saying evening prayer from the Magnificat Missal, there is little change in our daily regimen.

I once read in Pope John XXIII's autobiography that he reached old age and lamented that he thought by now he should have been a saint. How well I can relate to that. Well, Pope John is Blessed now, but I feel like the red queen in Alice Through the Looking Glass who runs and runs just to stay in the same place. But, alas, I'm running a lot slower these days and feel like I'm losing ground. It is an invitation to humility.

Nevertheless, the Christ child comes to me at Christmas anyway -- despite my spiritual laziness. The festive scene grows gradually as I put out the decorations around the house: always first the creche with Jesus hidden until Christmas eve, then the star on the front of the house, the nativity banner near the mailbox, the wreath on the door, the table decorations, the Christmas cards spreading across the curtain valences, and last, the Christmas tree. All the traditions and memories of Christmases past impart a warm glow even though we miss the joy of doing it with young children. How does one keep that sense of wonder in old age? I need to put on the heart of the child? It's not easy in a world filled with evil and ugliness. But that, in itself, is a reminder to look for the goodness and beauty around us. There is never a time so evil, St. Thomas More said, that a good man cannot live in it.

And so we prepare for the celebration to come. It culminates in Christmas eve Mass. What used to be at midnight is now at 10:30 p.m. For our parish, perhaps it's a recognition that so many in the congregation are retired and older. Waiting until midnight would be hard for many and, I confess, I'm among them. But when I remember those midnight Masses of childhood, I feel a little twinge of regret that they are gone. I remember coming out of church after the final blessing and looking up at a clear winter sky filled with shining stars. I could almost see the angels appearing to the shepherds to sing "Hosannah in the highest! Peace on earth to men of good will." And going home there was always one present to unwrap before bed. Already, the celebration had begun.

Larry and I return from our Christmas eve celebration with our children and grandchildren to pray our rosary before Mass in the brightly lit, newly decorated church. The Advent wreath in front of the altar is gone, replaced by the stable and the familiar figures of the Holy Family and the shepherds and the animals. The scene always brings a smile to my face and, now that we live in the country, the smell of the animals and fresh hay is easy to imagine as well. We sing carols before Mass and enter into the season of Christmas as Father processes in with four well-scrubbed altar boys and our deacon-to-be. The dark purple vestments have been replaced with the glorious gold and white of this joyful night. We sing a new Gloria, badly I'm sorry to say, but somehow I imagine it pleases Jesus to hear us try. And it will be better next year. There is always another opportunity.

For a pilgrim, Christmas reminds us of arriving at the destination, not the final destination, of course; that will only come on the last day, but an interim stop for rest and rejoicing. And so we do. What a wonderful Church that gives us twelve days of Christmas in which to celebrate. We spend it with many special events and visits: a dinner party with friends, the table set with the good china and silver, birthday celebrations for our December grandchildren, New Year's eve spent with two little princesses arrayed in finery from the dressup box and dancing away the old year before collapsing and being put to bed before midnight. We arrive at the last days of the season too soon. The three wise men arrive on January 6th bearing their gifts for the newborn king although liturgically we won't celebrate it until Sunday Mass. The beginning of Ordinary Time nears. It is a bittersweet moment as the decorations come down and we return to the daily norm. But would the celebration be so filled with joy if it wasn't set against the backdrop of normal life? I don't think so. Most of the pilgrimage is the journey. It has its own special delights, but the anticipation of stopping to celebrate is one of them.

November: Thanksgiving

2011-12-16T08:12:00.000-08:00

I suspect most people engaged in a word association game would respond to hearing the word November with "Thanksgiving." As soon as Halloween passes, the pilgrims, Indians, turkeys, and cornucopias take center stage reminding us of the coming national holiday for giving thanks. In today's post-Christian culture the reason for the holiday has been muddled. Children in politically correct government schools learn that the pilgrims had a feast "to thank the Indians" for their help. Their gratitude to the Christian God is hidden under a baleful of nonsense. The relity of course is that after a cruel winter in a hard land the pilgrims gave thanks to God for their survival, a bountiful harvest, and the hope for the future. They owed thanks to the Indians as well, of course, for teaching them good farming methods and assisting them to survive the first bitter winter, but they knew to whom they owed thanks first.
Those who love the truth and study history know that the pilgrims fled religious persecution so they could worship as they desired. The Mayflower compact, the first governing document of Plymouth Colony is filled with religious allusions. The men who signed the document stated that their first purpose in doing so was to establish a colony "for the Glory of God, and advancements of the Christian faith." They were people of faith and courage and gratitude.

In fact, the early explorers explicitly testified to their faith. Christopher Columbus, on his first journey, sailed under the sign of the cross and his lead ship, the Santa Maria, glorified the Mother of God. His log testifies to his faith. The first thing he did when he landed in the new world was to plant the cross on the island he called San Salvador, Holy Savior. Fr. John Hardon, S.J. in a talk he gave on Columbus the Catholic in the millenial year of the admiral's great voyage, described him as an extraordinary man with an extraordinary vocation. He "opened the door to the most phenomenal spread of Christianity since the time of St. Paul....He was the destined herald of the true faith to half of the human race." Was he perfect? No. Were all his motives pure? Probably not. But, like all imperfect Christians struggling in this vale of tears, he tried.

And this reflection brings me face to face with those blessings for which I am most grateful. Life has to be first because without it no other blessings are possible. My mother was adopted. I know very little about her family of origin. Was she an orphan of parents killed in an accident? Or was she placed for adoption by a single mom? Whatever the circumstances, I can empathize with today's survivor generation who escaped abortion. I am alive today because my mom was allowed to be born and adopted into a wonderful Catholic home.

The second great blessing is faith, the greatest gift Mom and Dad gave us. Both my parents were cradle Catholics committed to the faith. Daddy was the son of a church organist and a teacher. He gave mother a copy of Casti Connubii, Pope Pius XI's encyclical on marriage and told her he could only marry her if she agreed with it which she did. After all, she was the daughter of an Irish Catholic lawyer, a founding member of his Knights of Columbus council in Cleveland. Mom and Dad's courtship during the late 30s was taking place as Margaret Sanger's birth control revolution was in full swing. Their fidelity to authentic and life-giving marriage held the Catholic ground. They went on to raise ten children to adulthood.

Which brings me to the third blessing - family. The domestic church of the family truly is the first school of the faith where much is "caught not taught." Conversations around the dinner table, daily prayers, Sunday Mass, celebrating traditions throughout the year -- all these things nurture faith. I particularly remember a Holy Thursday tradition when Mom took us took us to three churches to pray and the midnight Masses on Christmas and Easter. There is something almost magical about gathering to worship our God with the stars shining in that "midnight clear."

And how can we not thank God for our neighbors. I am especially grateful for author "neighbors" who touch my heart, even across the centuries, with their wit and wisdom. The saints, like Teresa of Avila and Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich, have accompanied me to Mass with their meditations on the Eucharist or the various events in the life of Christ. Thomas a Kempis' little book, The Imitation of Christ, has been a constant companion on the journey, so much so that I memorized a small bit for my thanksgiving after Communion. And the secular writers have challenged me as well, especially those writing out of their Christian faith. G.K. Chesterton, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkein, William Shakespeare, Louis de Wohl, Thomas Costain, Malcolm Muggeridge, Myles Connolly, and too many others to mention.

But I'm also grateful and thank God for those difficult neighbors, some very close to home, who act like sandpaper rubbing at the rough edges of my characters, inviting me to practice the virtues of patience and humility. Fr. John Hardon, a holy Jesuit who died in 2000, often spoke of the value these individuals are in making us humble. "Only humble people get into heaven," he often said, and we can only become humble through suffering humiliation. So those who injure me, insult my pride, make me feel little and insignificant serve an important purpose in my life. How can I not thank God for them?

So I come to the end of November filled with gratitude for all the blessings in my life. "God has done great things for me and holy is His name." What an ungrateful daughter I would be not to thank Him every day of my life.

I believe in Reincarnation....

2011-11-28T11:12:00.000-08:00

at least in the kitchen.

After Thanksgiving Tara's sweet potato casserole with marshmallow fluff had a second life as a pie. Who would ever know? I made my own flaky piecrust. Mixed three cups of the sweet potatoes with three eggs, tasted it for sweetness -- mmm -- pured it in the crust and baked at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes. What a winner. For a gourmet look, add whipped cream or ice cream on top with a drizzle of caramel sauce and a sprinkle of chopped walnuts or pecans. Yum. I just had some for dessert after lunch and it is mm-mm good.

The Cheerful Pilgrim: November

2011-11-13T15:36:00.000-08:00

NOVEMBER: REMEMBRANCE

"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shall return."

Ash Wednesday admonition

    November arrives gently with crisp, frosty nights and warm days. We go to morning Mass for All Saints Day and enjoy the little ones dressed up as saints. One young boy, obviously St. George, carries a sword to vanquish his little sister, the green dragon with the spiky tail trying to keep up with him as they march down the aisle. St. Bernadette, St. Therese of Liseux, the three little shepherds of Fatima, King Louis of France in his regal robes and crown, St. Michael and St. Gabriel, St. Joseph with his hammer, and a mini Blessed Mother in a blue dress, white veil, downcast eyes and hands beautifully folded – all the saints, the heroes of heaven, pass in review. How can the minds and hearts of the congregation not be lifted up to the Church Triumphant with such a display of her holy treasures?

    For sure, it is a day to ponder the saints’ influence in our lives. Larry and I go out to breakfast and discuss our own patron saints: Our Lady, St. Ann, and St. Dominic for me; St. Lawrence, St. Paul, and St. Joseph for him. Can we see the power of their intercession, especially our Confirmation patrons? Larry is, indeed, a “just man” in the model of St. Joseph. He’s a hard worker and a good and faithful husband and father. Now that we are the patriarchal generation, he is a model grandfather as well, not only building (and pushing) swings, playing cards, and taking little ones on tractor rides; but inviting everyone to join in an evening rosary before bed around a campfire or on the porch. Thank you, St. Joseph for your powerful assistance.

    St. Dominic is my special friend. Most of my adult life I have defended the unborn and fought for the true faith. How often has St. Dominic, the preacher and defender against heresy, hovered in the background inspiring me as I beg parents outside an abortion mill to let their little ones live or evangelize the Jehovah’s Witnesses at the door? We thank you, dear saints, for your friendship and assistance.

    I can’t leave this subject without acknowledging our guardian angels. Whenever Larry and I travel, we ask their particular help. And how often we notice in the churches we visit, that there are two angles in the sanctuary. Perhaps they are etched in the golden tabernacle or kneeling on either side of the altar in adoration. It reminds me how often our angels rescue us, sometimes even before we ask: the close calls on the highway, the punctured tire or dead battery that only strands us when we are safe in our own driveway, the convenient parking place when we really need it. We are constantly aware of their help and protection.

    On November 2nd, the canonized saints give way to the unknown saints and saints-to-be in Purgatory. All Souls Day we make it our habit to visit cemeteries. We stop at four in Woodstock praying the rosary for the deceased members of our family, for friends, and for all those who have touched our lives in any way, as well as for all those buried there. Wandering among the gravestones, we are reminded that no one remains on this earth for very long. In a few generations we will mostly be forgotten except by diehard genealogists who study their family trees. Both the Schneiders and Kreitzers are only removed from the German mother country a few generations. We are post Civil War families with no connection to the founding fathers and mothers. In some ways that’s a blessing. It is good to know that our families have no accountability for the injustice of slavery or the persecution of the Indians. Our families came to the country too late for the worst of America’s 19th century national sins - and left Germany before the atrocity of the holocaust.

     The most poignant cemetery visits are those to the graves of our parents. We make the pilgrimage to Annapolis where we'll pray the rosary for my dad and mom who are buried at the Naval Academy. We begin the twenty decades on the two and a half hour drive and share memories. I didn’t renew my parking permit and security is tight since 9/11, so we park off campus and enter through a back gate presenting our IDs. It’s a short walk from there to the cemetery where we follow the familiar paths. The pink granite headstone is easy to find; there are so few colored stones amongst the gray and black.

I know it is only my parents’ bodies that rest there in the earth, but I still feel close to them kneeling on the damp ground. And I think how important the body is for Jesus to have occupied one and promised us resurrection. Feeling the lettering on the stone reminds me of the touch of their living bodies -- rubbing daddy’s back that last afternoon as he sat in a chair with his head resting on the bed, stroking my mother’s arm and praying the rosary aloud as she took her last struggling breath. “Why is it so hard to die?” she asked a few days before that final separation of body and soul. Why, indeed, I think.There are so many ties: children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, friends, and those who depended on us. Do these all hold us to the earth like the Lilliputians threads ensnared Gulliver? Does each one have to be cut through one moment of suffering? Good-byes are always hard, even when we expect to see the person again, but that final, earthly good-bye is especially heart-wrenching.

I used to be cavalier about death. After all, we are Christians. We know this life is just a temporary stop on the way to our final destination. Why should people cry when their loved ones have led a good life and are going to see God? Shouldn't we celebrate?

And then my dad died.

I finally understood, and am ashamed of my dimwitted failrure to realize it sooner. My sisters and I knelt by his coffin weeping and we clipped bits of his hair for remembrance, relics of love. And I knew then: Of course, we aren’t crying for the dead but for the living who must go on without the comfort, wisdom, and love of their dear ones.

Yes, November is for remembrance. I reflect on the faces and voices of the past. For me, a litany of holy women from a local nursing home where I take Communion runs through my mind. Margaret, pray for us; Teresa, pray for us; Dorothy, Velma, Annie, Agnes, Betty, Madeline, Dolly, and Pauline, pray for us. Each of them flares briefly in my memory with her joys and sufferings, her virtues and faults. Some of them suffered from dementia and were barely aware; others had better memories than mine. Madeline at 94 welcomed us each week and asked how our trip to Texas was or our camping weekend, or our horseback ride. It was a rare week she didn’t awe us with her power of recall. And now, as I go by her room, and see “her bed” occupied by a different resident, I’m reminded once again that man is dust and unto dust he shall return.

Fewer men make my litany; there just aren’t as many at the home. Charlie, a stroke victim, spoke volumes with his smile, but couldn’t get a sentence from his brain to his mouth. What frustration! I imagine him now singing with the angels. Lydia, an Alzheimer’s patient, is lost without her friend who kept her company, treated her so tenderly, and made the long days short. What a kind man, I remember.

A nursing home is a microcosm of life, filled with struggling individuals, both residents and staff, dealing with pain and suffering, sometimes well and sometimes badly, but always in the battle against the dark night. Visiting the sick, a corporal work of mercy, calls to my heart especially this month. How long will these dear ones be with us after all?

Larry and I visit my younger brother, John, who lives with the aftermath of a serious stroke. He personifies the trials of Job as one complication after another assaults him: transverse myelitis, UTIs, chronic pain, depression, etc. How many rosaries we pray for him, his doctors, his caregivers. Two of my five sisters take on the bulk of service spending between them five or six days a week -- first at the hospital, then at home, then for a long stint in a nursing facility, and finally back home again. Like guardian angels they advocate for his best care with doctors, nursing home staff, and home health care. They train the aides who work with him and don’t hesitate to carry out the humblest tasks themselves. They fill out the endless paperwork . Others come for an hour or an afternoon or a day, but Carol and Susie are the faithful angels. What insight it gives our family into the reality of the Christian call to serve the least ones. These wonderful women embody the virtues of fortitude and charity.

I have an “aha” moment about John at morning Mass while reading my Magnificat. The featured “saint” of the day is Blessed Vincenza Maria Poloni, one of twelve children, only three of whom lived to adulthood. Why am I struck by this Blessed? The immediate coincidence is her religious name, Vincenza because John lives on Vincenza Drive. Second, like Blessed Vincenza we also come from a large family. My mother had eleven full term pregnancies with ten children living to adulthood. Blessed Vincenza was found dead November 11, 1855 (of a stroke perhaps?); she was 53 almost the same age as John when he was struck down, and her death year was 100 years before John’s birth. Finally, Blessed Vincenza founded an order to care for the sick and infirm. Are all these connections with John just random coincidences or wishful thinking? Or is Blessed Vincenza inviting her intercession? I determine to ask my family to begin praying for John’s cure through this Blessed’s prayers before the throne of God. What a grace if his cure should be the miracle needed for her canonization.

Veterans Day arrives and nudges my thoughts toward my dad, a graduate of the Naval Academy and career naval officer. Daddy was serving as an ensign and the ranking officer on the U.S.S. Detroit stationed at Pearl Harbor on that fateful morning of December 7, 1941 All the senior officers were on shore eating breakfast, getting ready for church, oblivious of the danger. My day was asleep n his bunk after serving the night watch. The bombing awakened him and he raced to the deck, barefoot and in his skivvies, to begin shooting at the Japanese planes with a rifle. The altitude fuses for the anti-aircraft guns were locked up and no one on board had the keys, so the sailors couldn’t aim very accurately, but between the guns and rifles they put up a lot of firepower as they steamed out of the harbor. The Detroit was one of only two ships that day to reach the open sea. Meanwhile, Mom huddled in their apartment on the other side of Oahu, praying for dad’s safety. It would be several days before she knew if he was dead or alive.

I watch some films from the attack and wonder what it was like for those who lived through it. Imagine the high pitched screaming of the bombs as they fell and the massive explosions as they made contact. How many families became lost sons and fathers that morning as ships sank in the harbor with trapped men on board? The U.S.S. Oklahoma suffered several torpedo hits and capsized as crew members struggled to escape and rescue their comrades dragging them out of portholes. One of every five sailors on the Oklahoma died in the attack. A direct hit on the Arizona exploded her forward magazine causing a massive explosion that quickly sank the ship killing 1100, almost half of the American casualties that day. The billowing smoke, the stench of burning oil, the cries of agony …summarizes the “day of infamy.”

My childhood memories include The Fighting Lady, a film about an aircraft carrier during World War II. Daddy had a 16 mm projector and on occasional weekends would show the movie. I think he wanted us to remember the sacrifice of men and women who fight for freedom and the ultimate price so many pay.

November's cold, its short, gray days and brisk winds that blow the remaining leaves off the trees remind us of a world going to sleep, the little seasonal "death" as winter waits in the wings. We know life is not ended, that new growth will sprout when spring warms the earth. Nevertheless, November remind us of those who went before us, the saints and the sinner, the heroes and the less–than-heroic. For the pilgrim, the memories spark the desire to pray and sacrifice for the repose of the souls of the dead and the conversion of the living.

I'm Going to Write a Book: The Cheerful Pilgrim

2011-11-12T10:34:00.000-08:00

I decided this week that I'm going to write a book. Whether it ever gets formally published is less important to me than the writing. It will take me a year because each chapter will be a pilgrim's journey through a month and I'm beginning it now. It won't be a diary in the sense of keeping a slavish record of daily happenings, but a collection of the months' experiences from both now and in the past.

Since I'm starting with November the beginning is the end chronologically, which I think is appropriate. Pondering on the end gives a different perspective to the rest putting it in the context of the last things (death, judgment, heaven, and hell) which should really be among the first things for the pilgrim journeying through life. Keeping our end's goal in sight is the only way to reach it. So I invite you to join me along this pilgrim's journey through the year and in fact follow your own journey. We are all walking the path and, what a shame, if we don't study it along the way. As Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth living. So let's examine ours together.

Check out the Denver Cathedral

2011-11-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

We went to Mass at several churches in Denver. One was traditional; one was more modern. Check out the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception downtown. What a beautiful and inspiring church. It lifts the heart and mind to God. I've posted photos at Les Femmes.

There's No Place Like Home, Home Sweet Home

2011-10-28T18:53:00.000-07:00

Larry and I have been pretty busy since we got home. I emptied out the camper, put everything away, did the laundry, etc. while Larry mowed the lawn, mowed the field, picked up the footlong clippings and power-washed all the green crud off the house. I cut back the tree in the middle of the circle garden and filled the bird feeders hanging on the side of the house; Larry trimmed the bushes and put out the tray feeders. We both went through bushels of mail! There's still plenty to do but we are glad to be home and back into our routine of daily Mass, Thursday morning 2:00 a.m. Eucharistic adoration, etc.

I was so happy to see the folks at the nursing home again and bring Communion to the Catholics. And they were glad to see us too. Several people at church said they missed us. Isn't it nice to be missed? Truly, I was touched.

This evening I took my first dam walk since we returned and hit the jackpot -- three blue herons along the river. One flew under the bridge as I was throwing a buttercup in the water to watch it float away. He started to land right below the bridge, but saw me and flew off down the river. The second, smaller, was near the other end of the bridge and also flew off down the river. Then I crossed over to the other side and saw a third heron fly over the lake above the dam and land on the shore just around a bend. If I'd been playing a slot machine I would have hit the three-heron jackpot! I walked home in a drizzle with a big smile on my face and praising God for His wonderful world that has such creatures in it!

And then M and B came over to play. What a great way to end the day. We ate (M called it a "great dinner" and let us know she liked the macaroni and catfish), read lots of stories, watched a video of Alice in Wonderland, played Candyland, and cuddled. B slept through most of it after I wrapped her up tightly in a towel for want of a receiving blanket.

Yes indeed, "East, West, home's best!" is my motto. I loved travelling but home is definitely where the heart is.

Lingering in Lawrence with Loved Ones

2011-10-26T19:03:00.000-07:00

October 15-19, Saturday - Wednesday

The last real stop on our cross country trip (before we made a beeline for home) was Lawrence, Kansas where we met our Houston daughter and her family and spent two and a half days camping at Jellystone Park.

On the way to Lawrence we stopped at the Cathedral of the Prairie and the Prairie Museum. Both were well worth a visit. I especailly loved the stained glass windows at the Cathedral, which is not really a cathedral, but was named that by William Jennings Bryant on a visit. And it is certainly beautiful.

The Prairie Museum was a fun stop too, but we got there late in the day so it was closing in an hour. It's not very big, but had a great collection of miscellaneous stuff. The lady who started it collected dolls, glass, buttons, china, you name it. She needed to open a museum to house all her stuff. There were a number of buildings as well: 1 1930s farmhouse, a prairie sod house, the biggest barn in Kansas, an old prairie church, and a one-room school house. Outside the schoolhouse was one of those old merry-go-rounds they don't make any more. I'd love to have one for our yard and took a spin on it.

Many pioneer families lived in these little one-room sod houses.

We had planned to stay the night in Topeka and dance with a local square dance group, but the campground we planned to stay at was full. That was the only time on our trip we were turned away. Too bad because we moved on to our planned campground Lawrence, too far to come back and dance. Fortunately, they could accommodate us. We arrived around suppertime Saturday and settled in to wait for family coming in on Sunday.

The next morning we attended 10:30 Mass at the local parish in town, I think St. John's. Well, it wasn't the worst place we've ever been, but it was sooooo noisy. The choir was great -- but, please, take the drums over to the hall. And can you, for the love of Pete, retire the music from the 60s and 70s. It's so hopelessly banal even when it's sung well.

The entire Mass was unrelentingly noisy and since we'd arrived a half hour early we ended up sitting through the very loud choir practice We had planned to pray our rosary, but neither of us could concentrate on the prayers. All my nerves were tingling by the end of Mass. But the noise didn't stop with the recessional. That's when the Church turned into a gym. Kids were even walking up into the sanctuary.

Does no one have any respect for the Real Presence of Jesus in the tabernacle? Do they even believe He's there? If they do, why do they ignore Him to focus on each other?

Ironically, after Alice and family arrived, they decided to go to the 9:30 p.m. Mass on the KU campus. They reported later that their Mass was silence, low lights, candles, and....(blow the trumpet) Gregorian chant. Wow! We should have waited and gone with them. But isn't that news amazing and wonderful? In a liberal college town the campus is celebrating the Eucharist in reverence with Gregorian chant, while the local parish is stuck in the 70s with with the worst music of Dan Schutte and Marty Haugan. It tickles my funny bone!

On Tuesday we all went to the 5:00 p.m. daily Mass on campus and were treated, not only to Gregorian chant, but to the Chaplet of Divine Mercy after Mass recited for the success of the local 40 Days for Life. Wow again! I loved the Stations of the Cross which look like icons. Beautiful and inspiring.

In the vestibule a basket was filled with baby bottles to pick up and fill with change for the crisis pregnancy center in town. Wow again. Everything we saw at the campus center indicated that this was a vibrant and orthodox community. On the website is a photo of an ordination of a 2004 KU graduate. Looks like KU has a lot to offer in terms of educating young adults in their faith. The art and statues all lift the mind and heart to God. I found a painting of the Visitation out in the lobby a tender portrait of the two cousins celebrating new life.

Did I mention we got the full KU tour? Our daughter and her husband met at KU when Alice was getting her Masters and teaching Spanish and Chris enrolled in her class -- temporarily. When he began dating the teacher he switched to another section. And the rest is history. The kids all enjoyed hearing the stories (for the ? time) and we enjoyed hearing them mostly for the first. We visited the KU basketball stadium, had a cold picnic on the hill and saw the carillon, visited the "tower" where Alice lived first year, bowled in the student union, stopped at a little nondenominational chapel, and went to the building where Alice had her office. We checked out the bookstore and several of the places where KU memorabilia is on display including the famous KU Jayhawk on all things imaginable including a flour sack. We learned about the rock, chalk, Jayhawk cheer. (Did I get that right?)

We also visited a used bookstore downtown which is always a treat for this book-loving family. Among our finds was a recorded book of The Sinister Pig, a Tony Hillerman mystery whose hero detective is Jim Chee, a Navajo Indian. After all the Indian sites we saw in the west it was fun listening to a mystery filled with Navajo background.

We also stumbled into a school event when we ate at a local restaurant. The program was part of a Tuesday night partnership with the restaurant and they were doing a program on obesity. (Wonder if anybody switched their order from a jumbo burger with fries to a salad.) It was interesting and the girls were all so busy doing a coloring contest for Dad, they didn't even mind sitting through the talk.

Camping got a unanimous all thumbs up from everybody. The kids loved the jumping pillow. The campground was pretty full over the weekend, but cleared out Sunday and there were only a few campers left which gave us the run of the place. Our son-in-law's brother and family joined the fun and we had a great group for our few days there. Some of the girls slept in with their cousin Cece and our oldest granddaughter joined us. She was happy to escape the cold (and her little sisters) by snuggling into the Ritz Carlton of our group. I say that facetiously, but I do love our little camper which we named "maison des etoiles," house of stars, since we mostly saw it at night. For our granddaughter, choosing between a tent, a canvas and screen pop-up, and our hard-sided pop-up trailer with heat was a no-brainer for a teenager.

On Tuesday night, after their cousin left, Larry and I ended up with another two girls in the camper and had a pajama party. Well, actually, we all just went to bed, but there was a lot of Kings in the Corner card games beforehand.

I enjoyed making a good hot breakfast two mornings with plenty of coffee and hot chocolate. My electric frying pan came in handy, the first time I'd pulled it out on the trip. It's too big for just the two of us. We had French toast and sausage one morning and eggs and sausage and sweet rolls the other.

It was hard to say good-bye on Wednesday morning as we headed east on our last leg of the journey home. We originally planned to spend another week exploring St. Louis, Mammoth Cave in Kentucky and a park in West Virginia, but we were too eager to get home. We loved our trip, but home was calling.

Denver Day Two

2011-10-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

Thursday, October 13

Our second day in Denver began with Mass at St. Thomas More which was about eight miles from the campground. When we drove into the parking lot we thought we'd stumbled on a funeral there were so many cars in the parking lot. We'd already been to a baptism and a wedding at Sunday Mass. But this turned out to be a regular daily Mass. The school's seventh graders were there and several hundred parishioners. Wow! Must be a big parish.

The church is modern. You walk into a large lobby with an information room on the right and a wide staircase (and elevator) that take you up to the church level. The church was decorated for ordinary time with large green banners. A pro-life banner was placed prominently to the left of the altar, I presume to mark respect life month. Three priests concelebrated Mass and a deacon gave the homily which was on Fatima since it was the anniversary of the last apparition and the miracle of the sun. He read an eye-witness testimony by an atheist who attended to scoff, but was impressed by what he saw. Whether he ever converted, he didn't know.

After Mass we decided to go out to breakfast, but surprisingly we couldn't find a breakfast place. The Garmin showed nothing but Starbuck type places and bakeries. We stopped at one bakery in hopes they also served sandwiches. No luck, but we bought a beautiful cinnamon bun for later (delicious!). Believe it or not, we ended up at the only place we could find -- a Mexican restaurant. I've never had salsa and chips with breakfast. They had normal breakfasts which Larry had (essentially a grand slam), but I had a breakfast burrito made with eggs, potatoes, and sausage. It was a little spicy for breakfast, but I enjoyed it.

Then we were off to visit the Mother Francis Cabrini Shrine in Golden. It's located at the to of a long hill with a beautiful view of the Denver skyline. We walked up the 350+ stairs along the stations of the cross walk to the top where a large statue of the Sacred Heart stands along with a sacred heart arranged of stones. It's under a plexiglass protector and says it was arranged by Mother Cabrini, but I wasn't sure whether it was actually the one she arranged or like it. Since she did it in the early 1900s and the cover wasn't put in until the 80s (I think) it's hard to imagine the stones hadn't been disturbed by weather and tourists. The sign was ambivalent enough not to be clear. At the bottom of the stairs is a grotto chapel and a spring. There was no water available when the sisters moved in and founded a school there, but mother tapped a rock with her cane and said there was a spring and so there was. We drank from the spring.

Stained glass windows in the church trace Mother Cabrini's life. What an amazing woman! She wanted to be a missionary to China, but Pope Leo XIII urged her to served the Italian immigrants in the U.S. She made something like 24 trips back and forth across the ocean and founded schools, hospitals, and orphanages all over the U.S. and even the world. How anyone can say the Church oppresses women is beyond me. At a time that the secular world treated women as second class citizens, the Church encouraged their vocations as foundresses and directors of great institutions.

We stopped at a bench in the rosary garden to pray our rosary and then were off to meet our niece, Robin, and her twins at the giant praying mantis outside the Butterfly Pavilion in Westminster. The twins, Sidney (a girl) and Corbin (a boy) are almost four and full of energy and enthusiasm. The first thing they wanted to do was hold Rosie, the tarantula. Well, how could Larry and I not hold a tarantula when two almost four-year-olds were brave enough to do it. According to the docent, tarantulas are only a threat to their dinner which consists of bugs. But it is a little disconcerting to hold a furry, spidery-looking creature that covers your entire palm!

I preferred the butterfly pavilion. The museum imports something like a thousand chrysallises a week. They can't raise their own because the caterpillars need too much to eat and would quickly decimate any vegetation they had. The adult butterflies only live about two weeks. Capturing them on camera was a real challenge since they flitted about so much. I did get a few good pictures before we moved on to another area of the museum with a play center and some games, like "feed the caterpillars" which was a bean bag toss that involved tossing "food" into bugs' hungry mouths. Sidney has quite an arm on her and, once she got the hang of it, pegged a good many.

After the butterfly pavilion closed, we went over for dinner at our nieces. Her husband Louis had dinner ready, chili and Larry's favorite veggie, brussel sprouts. (Don't let me hear any "yucks" out there.) The twins chattered like bright little mocking birds all through supper. Sidney likes cottage cheese and Corbin lined up 40 or 50 raisins and then ate them one by one. The visit was fun since we've been missing our grandchildren. Sidney and Corbin gave us a chance to practice our grandparent skills before we see Alice and family in Lawrence, KS. It was definitely a fun time in Denver filled with family, feasting, and fun!

Denver Day One

2011-10-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, October 12

Our few days here in Denver have primarily been about visiting. We arrived Tuesday in late afternoon and settled into Cherry Creek State Park, a lovely city campground with roomy campsites, a lovely lake, good internet, and nice trails. But we haven't been at the site enough to enjoy the amenities. Wednesday we dawdled a little over breakfast and I prepared dinner to take to my cousin's later. She's recovering from a torn rotary cuff and said her husband would be happy to have somebody else do the cooking for a change. After I was done doing my dinner prep, we drove downtown to the Cathedral for noon Mass which was said very reverently by an elderly priest. He ended the Mass with the Latin blessing which brought back fond memories of my childhood.

What a gorgeous church -- all white marble with magnificent stained glass windows and beautiful statues. I was enthralled as I walked around taking photos. I particularly love Simeon. Thinking about his rejoicing on seeing Mary and the Christ Child never fails to make my own heart leap with joy. In the back of the church behind the organ is a lovely rose window with (I presume) St. Cecelia.

After Mass, we decided to check whether 40 Days for Life had a site in Denver and, yes, they were praying at the Planned Parenthood facility only fifteen minutes from the cathedral. So we went over and met several women from St. Thomas More Church which had the vigil for the day. In view of the fact that our diocese is under the patronage of St. Thomas More, we felt our presence with the St. Thomas More group was providential.

We prayed our rosary and then did a "Jericho walk" around the facility saying the St. Michael exorcism prayer. The place is like a fortress with a high metal fence that's covered with thick black screening. There's an electronic door that goes across the driveway and signs warning that conversations may be recorded. The building is large and the employee parking lot had dozens of cars -- not too surprising when you consider the millions they get from taxpayers. One of the women warned me to move because I had inadvertently stepped over a yellow line painted on the driveway that apparently delineates the separation between the public sidewalk and PP's private property. I pondered how like a prison the place was, appropriate for the devil's work. He binds and enslaves so chains, locks, and bars fit his m.o. The only thing missing was a sign over the driveway saying "Abandon hope all you who enter here."

About half a dozen cars went in while we were there, but most appeared to be employees and they parked on the opposite side of the property from the client lot. We saw a few people leave who looked like they might be clients; it was hard to tell. The women from St. Thomas told us Planned Parenthood has been open for about three years. A pro-life group recently bought a house across the street which will be a pregnancy help center, a blessing for those counseling who can escort the moms there. Hopefully, they'll be able to offer ultrasounds. It's hard to kill a baby after you've been introduced.

The pro-abortionists are always talking about how much they care for the women, but they don't operate a single help center. Those are run by a few paid directors assisted mostly by volunteers serving out of love. How many babies would never have seen the light of day without the blessed service of Christians reaching out in love to desperate moms?

After our hour at PP we went back to the camper to pick up dinner and go to Fort Lupton to visit my cousin and her husband. What a delightful visit! Kathy and Al have about ten acres and they have two beautiful horses, Maisie and Cammie. I wanted to kick myself for not taking pictures of the horses. Kathy competes as a sulky driver and also rides, but she's out of commission for awhile until her shoulder heals. She showed me a lot of her craft work and she is an amazing seamstress. She quilts, makes purses and pillows, and "pillow case" dresses to send to the missions. I used to sew but do very little now l(and was never very good at it anyway) and I am always impressed by the skills of others. It was a great visit and made me wish Kathy and I were neighbors.

On the Way to Denver: Pagosa Springs and the Monument of the Gods

2011-10-11T19:51:00.000-07:00

Monday-Tuesday, October 10-11

I've mentioned before that travel days are great adventures. We left Mesa Verde on Monday after attending Mass to pray for our safety over the mountain passes on US 160. What a lovely little parish (St. Margaret Mary in Cortez). They were saying the rosary when we got there fifteen minutes early and at the end of Mass they did morning prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours. We felt well prepared for the challenges of the drive. One of the ladies told us they'd had 40 inches of snow in the mountain a few days ago and the ski resorts were open. She also said they clear the snow really fast and we shouldn't have any problems.

Before we left the campground, Mesa Verde RV Resort (One of the nicest we've stayed at with tiled bathrooms!), I had to take a photo of the birdman decorating the front. It reminded me of a trip we took to Mexico ten years ago when we saw men decorated in feathers attached by ropes to a pole and "flying" around it.

The weather was chilly (started at 29, but with expectation of the 50s at the lower elevations) but sunny and lovely driving weather. We stopped in Pagosa Springs for a pit stop and wished we had our bathing suits in the car. What a great resort town with natural hot springs! The town offers a large outdoor pool and several smaller pools that have different temperatures. Take your pick according to your heat index. We walked along the river where there were several spots with hot springs bubbling out of the hillside. One had to be about 150 degrees, too hot to bathe in for sure! You could see all the mineral deposits on the stone. It was a great short stop and a place to put on the list for a future trip.

The drive over the mountain actually was less nervewracking than our trip over the Big Horn: fewer switch backs and the up and down was more gradual. We saw plenty of snow, but all on the side of the road and on the mountainside, thank God. At one ski resort we noticed ski tracks that must have been from cross country skiers.

About an hour before we reached our destination we saw a turnoff to go to the Stations of the Cross Shrine in San Luis, but we didn't have enough daylight to make the detour and get over the last mountain pass before it got dark. That was disappointing, but we opted for safety.

We spent the night at Lathrop State Park outside Walsenburg, lovely place with a lake and some interesting big rocks with depressions where water collected. Many of the rocks out here are soft sandstone that seem to develop unusual cracks, crevices, and depressions. Our rocks back east must be harder because we've never seen this before. We met a lovely young family with three children camping next to us -- very Christian and very concerned about the way the culture is going. After dark we could hear the dad playing his guitar and singing Christian songs. Anybody we've had an extended conversation with on this trip has been conservative and Christian -- gives me a lot of hope. We watched the moon rising over the campground -- beautiful.

The second day of our trip to Denver we had one stop planned -- at The Garden of the Gods. A city park, it only covers several square miles, but there are dozens of huge rock formations, sort of a mini Monument Valley. We took a three mile hike on a dual use trail and had to get out of the way at one point for two cowgirls on horseback. I was wishing I could join them. We also saw a couple on Segways. We thought about doing that but after a day and a half in the car we felt like we needed the walk. The park was deeded to the state of Colorado with the proviso that it would always be free and open to the public.

We arrived at Cherry Creek State Park, a city campground, around 4:00 p.m. and are settled in for several days while we explore Denver and spend some time with my cousin and our niece and her family.

The Marvels of Mesa Verde

2011-10-10T21:10:00.000-07:00

Which one is the piggy?

Mesa Verde didn't make my original list of stops for our cross country trip! But a friend with roots in the West urged us not to miss it and I'm glad I listened. We arrived in late afternoon and decided to do laundry and go out to dinner saving our exploration of the park for Sunday. We hadn't had Mexican food since we hit the west and got a recommendation at the campground desk for a delightful place called Tequila's. It was colorful with a friendly atmosphere. The chair backs had bright designs of macaws, coyotes, fish, Spanish senoritas, etc. We ordered a combination dish for two that arrived in a pig pot and we felt like stuffed pigs after eating although we couldn't finish it all. It was a fun dinner because it was homecoming at the local high school and several tables of teens dressed to the nines and chattering provided entertainment.

We went to early Mass on Sunday and had breakfast at a cute cafe just down the street from the church, then back to the campground to change and head to the park. Mesa Verde is a national park with extensive and well preserved ruins from the cliff dwelling pueblo Indians who lived there during the middle ages. They abandoned the cliff city around 1300 for reasons that no one knows for sure, perhaps an extended drought that left them starving and seeking water. We took a tour of Cliff Palace with Ranger Jo, a terrific guide and inspired story-teller. She interspersed historical information with stories and words of wisdom from her friend's Indian grandfather. When the remains of a large group of Indians were discovered in the park, a religious ceremony was held to reinter them. No Anglos were invited or allowed to attend. Ranger Jo's friend went, but her grandfather drew a line in the sand and told her not to cross it. The reason? Because women are the life givers; they do not handle the dead. Although the Indians kept no written history, much about their lives and practices has been passed down through oral tradition. We learned a lot about marriage practices, daily life, and my favorite fact, that grandmothers were the most important decision makers. (I mentioned that after we visited the museum at Monument Valley.) The men in the Navajo culture are heads of the clans, but the women own all the property. Bet there wasn't and isn't much divorce in families that practice the ancient traditions! Children belong to the clans of their mothers. Among the clans are the water, sand, corn, parrot, and many others.

The cliff dwellings were fascinating. Spruce House is 90 percent original as it was found by ranchers in the 1800s. What a discovery that must have been at the time. When the dwellings were occupied they housed about a hundred people, although there was additional room for those who came to trade, but lived in the surrounding areas. Just getting to the buildings must have been a challenge. Near the exit stairway was a rock face with hand and footholds carved into the rock. They also used ladders. At Balcony House there were 60 foot ladders to climb and a fourteen foot tunnel to crawl through that was only eighteen inches wide. We skipped the tour of that one.

We hiked the 2.4 mile petroglyph trail and decided not to take our hiking polls because it was only a 170 foot rise. big mistake. The cumulative rise may have been small, but I think we did it five times with all the up and down. The trail also required clambering up and down narrow and sometimes steep rock stairs and between narrow rock walls. The petroglyphs wall was about about a mile and a half into the hike. The images were interesting: handprints, several people in different poses. One figure had a hand to his head. I joked that he looked like he had a headache. There were several animals and some interesting designs. In 1942 four Hopi men visited the site and interpreted some of the signs. A few are clan symbols. Others indicate movements of the people and their separation from other clans. My favorite symbols were the handprints, but there was no interpretation for those. They reminded me of all the arts and crafts children do with handprints.

After the petroglyph wall came the part of the trail that made me dub it the hike from hell. We came to a sign pointing left to the museum, but it was pointing at a rock that was almost as tall as I am. No...they couldn't possibly expect hikers to get over that rock. There was no way around it and the only way was up and over and then a steep climb. There was a metal arrow fastened to the rock to let hikers know the impossible trail was exactly where they were meant to go. The only other alternative was to turn around and go all the way back. Did I mention the trail was along the cliff edge? Yikes! We looked closer and there was a little ledge on

the rock just big enough for a foothold. Another rock to the left gave another foothold, but at that point I had to hoist myself and clamber over the edge on hands and knees. Then we had a steep climb and came to a narrow rock ledge with a cliff drop. Fortunately there was a Juniper tree growing in the side of the mountain. if I hadn't had that to hang onto, I'd probably still be there with my shaking knees. Shortly after that point we reached the ridge where the trail was level and easy for the last three quarters of a mile. Thank God! I was surprised the ranger didn't warn us. Now we know why you have to register when you go on that trail. They want to know where to start searching for the bodies. I have to say, though, I was proud of myself for doing it -- once we got to the end and all the scary stuff was over.

The sun was setting as we drove back down the Mesa. As we came around one turn we saw the snow on the mountain a brilliant pink. It only lasted a few minutes and quickly faded to grey, but what a sight while it lasted. (I took the photo through the window, not the best.) Larry and I both agreed that our day at Mesa Verde was a highlight of our trip.

John Wayne Country -- Monument Valley, UT

2011-10-08T21:11:00.000-07:00

Thursday-Friday, October 6-7

After our brief snowy stay in Arizona at the Grand Canyon, we moved back to Utah to Monument Valley, a familiar sight to John Wayne film fans. We stayed at Goulding's RV park and they offer a John Wayne western every night for their visitors. After touring the monuments, it was fun to see the movie, The Searchers, and identify some of the rock formations by name.

Monument Valley is on the Navajo Reservation and is operated by the tribe. The 17 mile dirt road through the area is rough and rutted. We started out on our own and, after traveling the first quarter mile, returned to the campground to take the tour. Let their trucks take the beating! The two hour tour could be summarized as "shake, rattle, and roll." Our guide, Irvin, a Navajo, was also a jokester who thought it was funny to drive as close as possible to the edge of a steep ravine. At one point he drove through a rut that tipped the truck so far down to the left I thought we might turn over. He was up front cracking jokes -- "Oh, Mama!"

We toured the visitor center and were impressed with an exhibit created by high school students in New Mexico about the "code talkers" who created an unbreakable code based on the Navajo language for transmitting messages during WW II. Ultimately, about four hundred Indian men were recruited and served in the U.S. Marine Corps as "code talkers." It is the only code never to be broken by the enemy.

But what I liked best in the museum was a series of photos of Indian grandmothers. To the Navajos the grandmother is the wisest of the wise. She is consulted before all major decisions. As a grandma of 20, I thought that was a great tradition that should be followed by other cultures.

What can one say about the monuments except that they are amazing. To look out over the countryside and see flat desert dotted with huge rocks in unusual shapes makes you want to rub your eyes and look again. Can it possibly be real? The formations have interesting names that relate to their appearance: left and right mitten, the king on his throne, the cock, elephant butte, the three sisters who look like nuns going in to prayer, the camel (who also looked like Snoopy lying on his back), the totem pole, etc.

In addition to telling us a little about the rocks and their names, Irvin described how the Navajo used some of the desert plants we saw for food, basket weaving, building, even for soap and shampoo (the root of the yucca plant). The last stop on the tour was at a hogan (made of wood poles covered with mud without use of nails or any other joining materials - put together sort of like interconnecting pieces of a puzzle). There we met Grandma Bessie who was carding and spinning wool and had a partly completed rug on her loom. The Navajo weavers have no pattern to follow, they carry the designs in their heads and grandmothers and mothers pass the skill on to their daughters.

At the lodge there is a small museum which is in the house that the original owners built back in the 1920s. Harry Goulding was a sheep buyer who was so taken with the valley that he bought a piece of property and established a tent trading post with his young wife "Mike." During the depression when the Navajos were hard hit, the Gouldings used their last $60 to go to Hollywood to meet with director John Ford who was looking for a place to film a western. They had a hard time getting in to see Ford but Harry in his persistence said he didn't mind waiting; he'd brought his bedroll. When he finally got to meet with Ford, he showed him photos of the valley and Ford was so impressed he ended up making about a dozen westerns in the area. Many of the local indians served as extras in the films. The cabin John Wayne stayed in during the filming, which was also used for some exterior shots, is preserved at Gouldings.

Our day and a half in Monument Valley (I kept thinking of the song, I Remember the Red River Valley because of the red dirt that got into everything!) was fun and we had our introduction to Navajo fry bread which is similar to supapia and delicious! Best of all it wasn't snowing although it was chilly.

Looks like we'll get plenty of use from our winter jackets in these last weeks of our trip. Up until the Grand Canyon we were mostly wearing short sleeved shirts and shorts/capris. Temps the past few days have hovered around 50 during the day and down to freezing or below at night. It feels colder though because of the wind and mostly cloudy skies. We are promised warmer temps and sunshine in Mesa Verde, our next stop.

Our Visit to the Grand Canyon: Short and Sleet

2011-10-07T15:49:00.000-07:00

Thursday, October 6

We arrived at the Grand Canyon Wednesday afternoon in the gloom - overcast skies and threat of rain. At first we thought we'd wait til the next day to explore, but since there was plenty of afternoon left we decided to drive the 40 miles and visit the granddaddy of rocks. During the ride over it began to rain, then pour. It was still a lovely drive with the golden glory of the quaking aspens set against the rich green tapestry of the firs and pines.

When we got to the canyon the rain had tapered off, but the wind had picked up. The Bright Angel viewpoint stretches from the lodge out a quarter mile so we decided that short hike was a good starting point. Omigosh! It winds along the cliff edge with a precipitous drop on both sides. I started hyperventilating at the beginning of the walk and didn't stop until we were back at the lodge. The view unfortunately wasn't so great with the mist and the clouds. One peak we could see was 60 miles away, but on a clear day you can see about 125 miles. The wind was fierce which added to my vertigo. I've

decided I prefer the civilized mountains in the east to these majestic monsters out west that threaten to swallow you in one gulp. I have no trouble hiking in the Appalachians and Alleghenies. Thank you, 1500 feet up is high enough.

We met a young couple at the viewpoint behind the lodge who had completed the rim to rim hike (about 25 miles) and stayed overnight in the canyon. According to the brochure "Under no circumstances should you try to do the rim to rim hike in a day!" No doubt there are plenty who would be stupid enough to try, although I doubt if there is enough daylight this time of year. Can you imagine hiking up from the bottom of the Grand Canyon in the dark? The couple were from Connecticut and were leaving to return home on Friday. They had left their heavy jackets behind at the south rim as a weight control measure to lighten their load because the day before on the canyon floor the temperature was 90 degrees. Coming up on the north rim was a cold treck and they bought new jackets when they reached the top. Like the park guide says, the weather can change unexpectedly.

We drove back to the campground in another downpour that was turning to sleet and saw several mule deer along the route with their funny big ears standing straight up. The weatherman was calling for 1/2 an inch of snow during the night, but we woke up to about two inches on the ground, another two called for during the day, and a possible three inches that night. It was snowing little ice balls so we decided to get while the getting was good.

Breaking camp required brushing the snow off the roof (some folks were on top of their big rigs with brooms) before we could take down the ends. The owner's manual warns not to push the ends down with too much snow on top and this was one wet, heavy snow. Fortunately (Thank you, angels.), I had picked up a snow scraper/brush when we stopped at the hardware store in Jackson Hole to get a wrench for tightening the tow ball. I can't say it was with the expectation of having snow; I just knew we needed one. But what a providential purchase. That and a large stick near our campsite plus a borrowed ladder from our neighbor provided our snow removal tools.

The sun kept trying to come out while it was still snowing, so I thought we might see a rainbow, but no luck. We talked briefly about going back to the north rim, but decided the visibility over the canyon would be even worse than the day before and we had both had enough of looking over the edge of cliffs. So we headed out and enjoyed the view of the snow-covered trees along the highway since the road was mostly clear. The weather gradually improved as we descended to lower elevations until the sun was shining and there were mostly clear skies for our drive to Monument Valley. We said good-bye to the Grand Canyon without too much regret, except we would have liked to see the Kaibab squirrel who has a white tail and big ears that look like Mr. Spock's on Startrek. There are definitely some different critters out here in the west including a little bluebird who perched on a roof edge long enough for me to snap his picture. The western species is different from our eastern variety -- not as pretty in my opinion.

Our ride to Monument Valley was easy and pleasant past the Vermillion Cliffs which are beautiful. The colors of the mountains, buttes, and mesas are brilliant scarlet -- so is the dirt. What a contrast to the bright blue of the sky and stark white of the clouds. All the colors seem more vibrant and the air is so clear you can see for miles. Many of the roads since we got to Arizona stretch out in undulating ribbons to the horizon - or to a butte. Looking back at one point we could see the road running along next to the base of one set of cliffs as we were driving along the base of another set opposite.

What a funny day. It began under 30 degrees with snow and sleet and ended in sunshine and 50 degrees -- still chilly, but a far cry from the freezing wet cold at the north rim. And best of all, we now travel east toward home. Our western most point was Hurricane, UT about ten miles outside Zion. Now every mile brings us slowly back to Virginia. I think I'll be humming Carry Me Back to Old Virginny for the next few weeks even as we enjoy the remaining stops on our trip.

Zion National Park: Bryce's Big Brother

2011-10-07T08:35:00.000-07:00

Monday-Tuesday, October 3-4

After Bryce I thought Zion would be just a walk in the woods since we'd been told it's very different with lots of green because of higher moisture. Well, it is greener than Bryce; it is also has bigger rock formations, higher and steeper cliffs, a pitch-black, mile-long tunnel through a mountain, and a breath-sucking entrance from the east on Rte. 9 that takes you around hairpin switchbacks in a long, steep descent. Pulling a trailer made it especially hair-raising. We decided when we left we'd take the longer way to the Grand Canyon, only about half an hour, via the south entrance.

Our two days in Zion we hiked about eight miles. Doesn't sound like much, but my knees could sure feel it. We hiked the Watchman Trail which was only about a 400 foot rise all together but was rocky and steep in some places. It went out to an observation point that gave a great view of Watchman mountain. Interestingly, Zion is still in late summer. Flowers bloomed everywhere and most of the trees hadn't changed color yet. Funny to have seen autumn changes only an hour and a half farther north in Bryce and find Zion still dressed in summer finery. I took a lot of wildflower pictures on our hikes, especially up the mountain.

We also hiked one of the really easy trails in the park - the scenic river walk. It's paved all the way and a popular spot for tourists. We felt like we were in Central Park there were so many people, but since we enjoy people watching that was part of the fun. One poor Hispanic couple had a little boy, about 18 months old, who must have screamed for at least 45 minutes. We saw him first at the end of the trail then kept passing and being passed as we walked along and stopped to take pictures or just enjoy the view. It reminded me of the time I left a grocery cart in the aisle and walked out of the store with a two-year-old having a rip-roaring tantrum. I passed one tight-lipped lady who looked very disapproving of the poor family. I remember those folks too. Life isn't hard enough, there are people who see their vocation as making it harder for others.

The river trail led out to "the narrows." That's another trail in the park but it's unmarked because the trail IS the river. We stood on the bank and watched the folks wading across, but we didn't bring enough shoes to be willing to soak a pair. One lady coming back across the river said she waded until she saw people in up to their waists. She was carrying a large, expensive camera and said it just wasn't worth risking it. It was also a little chilly for that. I think the water was 58 degrees. The air temp was in the upper 70s.

A highlight of the river walk was seeing a great blue heron fishing on the bank. And the squirrels! They were so tame and funny running around our feet clearly looking for a handout although people aren't supposed to feed them. There was a prominent picture in the park literature showing a person's hand who had been bitten and scratched by a squirrel and required stitches. Personally, I'm not interested into coming into contact with those sharp teeth!

After the river walk, we hiked up to the lower emerald pools and came back via the grottoes trail. What a beautiful area of the park. Around the pool water was falling off the rocks, not enough to make a real waterfall, but enough to be kissed going by. Sometimes after thunderstorms there are gushing waterfalls that only last an hour or two. What a sight that must be! But actually, every trail in Zion offered scenic views and opportunities to just sit and reflect on the glory of God in nature's cathedral. Many mountain vistas have religious names, not surprising when you consider the impact of the Mormons in Utah. The patriarchs is one stop on the shuttle bus which moves tourists around the park. At that stop there's a short paved walk to an observation point with a view of three mountain peaks named Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jacob stands behind Moroni. The same religious orientation was true at Bryce and at Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. We found peaks and geysers called cathedral, altar, and grotto. I wonder what the ACLU will do to try to eliminate the religion reflected in the wonders of nature. Even the name Zion is based on scripture.

We left the park reluctantly to head for the Grand Canyon, the granddaddy and patriarch of the great cliff, mountain, and canyon vistas.

Horseback Riding and Hiking in Red Canyon and Bryce

2011-10-03T21:14:00.000-07:00

Saturday to Monday, Sept. 30 to Oct. 2

Our two and a half days in Bryce Canyon were filled with horseback riding and hiking. We also took a car ride along Rte. 12's scenic byway and attended Sunday Mass at a little country church in Panguitch about 25 miles form the campground (See here). It was all enchanting.

The red rocks of Red Canyon and the rock formations of Bryce Canyon offer endless flights of fancy for the imagination. Some of the rocks look like drip sand castles children make on the beach. Some resemble chess pieces, church spires, grottoes or entire small cities. I could pick out the ruins of the Parthenon and the walls of Jerusalem and walled medieval towns. Some structures look like castles in the Rhineland or little towns in the Swiss Alps hugging the side of the mountain. The picture at the bottom of this post is one of my favorites. It looks like a snow-covered house with a chimney behind a stockade. Everywhere we looked another interesting rock "picture" greeted us.

We took several hikes into the canyon: the Fairyland Trail and the Navaho Loop Trail. The Fairyland Trail is an 8-mile hike and we started late in the day on Sunday so we only hiked a small portion, about a mile in and a mile out, but it enchanted us with its variety. The steep rocky sections alternated with a pine woods and fairy paths everywhere. On Monday before we left we did the Navaho Loop. Going down into "Wall Street" where the stones rose straight up and enclosed us was amazing. The 1.3 mile trail loops back and forth in short switchbacks at the beginning and then narrows out for a level section at the bottom of the canyon. The walk back up was a steady steep grade with narrow places that made me hyperventilate looking out over the cliff. I never had such vertigo as I've had out here in the western mountains. They make our little Virginia mountains look like foothills. But to be honest, I miss our mountains back home. The mountains here are beautiful but so rugged and

many sections look like the badlands of South Dakota. I can't even imagine the pioneers wanting to settle in some of these desolate mountain landscapes trying to scrape a living out of the dry and rocky ground. It's beautiful but formidable.

Our three-hour horseback ride along the floor of red canyon was an easy way to explore several miles of the area. Our guide Pete is taking off a year before college. He spent the spring and summer doing trail rides and will work at a ski resort this winter. He is also a bull rider in the rodeo. A friend of his who was on the trail ride with us says he's somewhat of a local celebrity. At one point on the ride he stood up on the saddle and rode a bit standing up. Wish I could have gotten a picture but it happened too fast.

The Ruby Inn Campground was a great base for our explorations. It's only a mile from the entrance of Bryce Canyon. They have a heated pool and beautiful large spa which we took advantage of on Saturday evening. I think we'll remember our few days there as a highlight of our trip.

Good-bye Salt Lake City, Hello to the Real Utah

2011-09-30T20:45:00.000-07:00

We left Salt Lake City this morning with no regrets. Traffic was horrible -- shades of the Washington Beltway. There were orange construction cones for miles with little evidence in most places of anybody working. Finally, about 30 miles from the city, the highway went down to two lanes in each direction and a more country landscape. (Sigh of relief...) It reminded me of our Interstate 81 in the Shenandoah Valley with a large grass median and mountains to both the east and west, although the mountains here are much more rugged and with less vegetation than ours back home.

The ride was beautiful through the country, especially when we turned off Int. 15 and turned onto Utah 20 to go over the mountains and then onto US 89 down the valley. But the really incredible views began when we got to Utah 12. We drove into Red Canyon with bright red-orange rock formations, tunnels cut thorugh the mountain, and towering cliffs on either side of us.

But nothing could have prepared us for the incredible sight of Bryce Canyon. After we set up camp we drove into the park and went out to Sunset Point. We looked out over miles of towering rocks rising from the canyon floor in an amazing variety of shapes and forms. Some looked like giant chess pieces, others like walled cities and castle turrets. There were cathedral-like spires and rocks that resembled all kinds of things just like cloud pictures. I took one picture that appeared to have a duck in it and one group of rocks reminded me of the model of Jerusalem we saw at the Morman Temple visitor's center. Some of the rock formations looked absolutely impossible with large boulders balancing on the tops of skinny pillars. How could such a place exist? To me it is an absolute wonder of nature and should be listed among the wonders of the world.

This, to me, is the real Utah, the rugged natural landscape that celebrates the rugged individualism of the people who settled this great state. Larry read me an entry about the early settlers of Panguitch which is about 25 miles from Bryce Canyon. We passed through it on our way and will return on Sunday to attend Mass there. The early settlers had a difficult first winter when the crops failed. They were starving, so an intrepid group of men set off to Parowan about 40 miles away to get food for the settlement. The ox-drawn wagons couldn't make it through the deep snow, so the men abandoned them and used quilts to walk the entire way - putting one down, walking across it and putting down another in front while they retrieved the quilt behind. The town still celebrates the "Panguitch Quilt Walk."

That story speaks to the spirit of the people who settled this country. What a courageous band. Would that we had that same spirit in facing the challenges of today. We are stewards, individuals created in God's image and entrusted with the care of this beautiful country and the people in it beginning with the least ones, the little babies in the womb waiting to be born. May we be faithful stewards quick to respond like those men whose ingenuity and courage saved their families from starvation.

Salt Lake City and Antelope Island: Not Our Favorite Stop

2011-09-29T19:22:00.001-07:00

Thursday, September 29

George Bailey would love the Salt Lake City KOA. Last night was filled with jet noise, train whistles, and traffic -- all night long! The only thing missing were ship anchor chains. Needless to say, we didn't get a great night's sleep. It's too bad they put us in the front near the road; the back of the park is probably quieter. Oh well, we're off tomorrow.

We got up early this morning to go to the 8:00 a.m. Mass at the Cathedral of the Madeleine which is absolutely beautiful, although I knew the Church had been renovated the minute we walked in because it had a large baptismal hot tub in the back. We picked up a brochure which talked about the changes "mandated by Vatican II." That was an eye-roller, but the church is still impressive with fine paintings of Mary Magdalene in scenes with Christ and a very impressive painting in the sanctuary dome. In the middle is the Blessed Trinity with Jesus on the cross, God the Father over Him, and the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove at the top. To the viewer's right a group of Old Testament figures stand in worship including Moses holding the tablet of the commandments, a crowned King David with his harp, and Deborah with a sword in one hand and the head of Holofernes in the other. On the left side New Testament figures stand. I recognized St. Alphonsus and Joan of Arc in her armor. A young girl in front held a leash attached to a lamb. I'm sure she was one of the Roman virgin martyrs, perhaps St. Agatha. It was interesting trying to figure out who everyone was. A brochure in the back of the Church said a book was available in the rectory to explain the decorations, but no one answered the door when we rang even though the office was supposed to be open. Too bad.

We went from there to the Mormon Temple and the opposite was true there. People kept offering to help us, give us a tour, and take our contact information so some Mormons could visit us back home. We were even asked to be interviewed for a video about Temple Square which we declined. Two young girls on an 18-month mission at the Temple showed us around. All the attention was a little overwhelming actually. I certainly admire their zeal, though. I was trying to think whether we have anything comparable to it and decided the Legion of Mary is the closest. Sadly, Catholics are lacking in evangelical activism although we are called to it. So sad. We have the fullness of the faith and often are too timid or embarrassed to offer it to others.

The temple is only open to the Mormons but there is a tabernacle where concerts take place and two information centers, one filled with displays depicting the pioneer journey of Joseph Smith and his vision of founding Salt Lake City and building the temple; and the other with many beautiful paintings of the life of Christ and a model of Jerusalem. The gardens are also very beautiful with flowers everywhere. One of the guides told us they will all be ripped out next week so they can plant the tulip bulbs for next spring. What a shame. The weather here is like late summer so I'm sure they would continue to thrive for weeks. We also passed through the geneological area where people can look up information about their family history. We were on a balcony looking down and a number of people were being assisted. Their service is free. I was a little sorry I'm not into geneology.

There is also a beautiful historical hotel built by the Mormons as a sort of welcome center for visitors and a place to lodge guests attending conferences. It's on the historical register and has lodged many famous guests including presidents like John Kennedy and Ronald Reagan and loads of celebrities: Bing Crosby, Shirley Temple, Katherine Hepburn, Elvis Presley, Charlie Chaplain, and George Harrison are just a few who have stayed there. The hotel has incredible crystal chandeliers, faux marble columns, wrought iron balcony railings, and other beautiful appointments. Lovely! We had breakfast in the cafe after Mass and were amused that they don't sell coffee but have caffeinated Coke and Diet Coke.

After lunch we drove to Antelope Island on the Great Salt Lake. It's about thirty miles north of the city and is reached by a six mile causeway. There's an old ranch on the island that was begun by the Mormons for taking care of their herds. We took the self-guided tour and I was charmed by some of the artifacts including a lovely doll and some china that reminded me of Larry's parents "good china" when he was growing up. I have a few pieces (the only ones not broken) hanging on the wall in plate racks. Antelope Island is now a state park with a buffalo herd, big-horned sheep, bison (lots of bison: bison in the road, bison in the flowers, bison on the beach, etc.) and other wildlife. Despite the high salt content in the lake, it contains brine shrimp (really tiny) and has these little black flies both of which attract migratory birds. We pulled out the spotting scope at one point and watched some waders along the shore. I'm not sure what they were. I'll check them out in my bird book when I get home.

Larry and I decided we had to test the water so we went down to the north beach and walked out to the lake. Oh yuck! There were piles of decomposing brine shrimp and millions of the tiny black flies. We waded anyway, but it was not the highlight of our trip. The one good thing...there were lots of flat stones and so easy to skip. I was getting four or five jumps which I can never do at home. Between the nice, flat rocks and the denser water I felt like a rock-skipping champ.

We're off to Bryce Canyon tomorrow. We aren't even tempted to stay another day in Salt Lake City.

Travelling There is Half the Fun!

2011-09-28T21:58:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 28

We have thoroughly enjoyed our tourist days when we go hiking or visit museums or go on some sort of activity like a boat float or tour. But the days we just travel from one place to another will, I'm sure, be among the most memorable. Like today - mostly just a travel day to Salt Lake City.

After taking down the camper we took one last walk along the Snake River behind the campground and Larry left a little stone hoodoo. We've seen them everywhere we go since Wisconsin so it seemed appropriate to leave our own mark on the beach behind the Jackson KOA.

Then we were off, traveling south on US 89 toward Alpine. Immediately we were treated to the most beautiful fall colors. The box elder, which the locals call mountain maple, ranged from a rosy red to a brilliant scarlet. Against the bluest of skies they were exquisite. We passed into the southeastern corner of Idaho and came to a museum about the Oregon Trail in Montpelier. I'm so glad we stopped. Not only did they have a wonderful series of paintings about the pioneers on the Oregon Trail, but there was a display of beautiful quilts. (You would love it, Rebecca!) We spent a delightful hour wandering around and then getting some tourist info from the visitor center next door. The woman was very helpful and urged us not to miss the viewpoint overlooking Bear Lake.

Travelling down Logan Canyon we were treated to some of the most beautiful scenery on our trip yet. I asked Larry to stop at one point so I could walk back up the road to take a photo of an impressive rock structure with a lovely little creek. What a surprise to see a young man climbing the rock. Well, actually, he was swinging from a harness clipped to the rock. He seemed to be enjoying just hanging there. I was delighted to get a photo, not only of the interesting rock, but with him hanging from it.

The view from the observation point above Bear Lake was breathtaking. The color of the water changes, according to the information sign, because of minerals in the water. Calcium in the rocks is washed off and causes the light to make different colors from brilliant sky blue to aqua. The Lake is spring fed and huge. It was like a brilliant sapphire on the landscape.

Getting into the area around Salt Lake City was a reminder that even out west there are cities with terrible traffic and congestion. We are staying at a KOA in town and have already noticed the: airplanes, trains, traffic noise, and bright lights. Our poor little maison de les etoiles will see few stars while we stay here I think. But we will only spend two nights and one full day here. We are eager to get back to the middle of nowhere where God paints his autumn world in brilliant colors and silence.

One last picture from the day. We saw many signs along the road urging motorists to watch out for free-ranging stock. And what a treat it was to come upon a herd of sheep that apparently had just been led across the road by a shepherd on horseback. What fun! But the entire drive today, fun from the moment we left the campground in Jackson until we hit the traffic around Salt Lake City, was pure delight. Thank you Jesus that there are so many more open spaces than there are cities in this wonderful vast country of ours!

Scenic River Float and the National Museum of Wildlife Art

2011-09-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

September 27 - Tuesday

After breakfast we went to the KOA office to check on the scenic Snake River raft ride. Just in time - the ride was scheduled to go at 10:00 and it was quarter till. We ran back to the camper for sweaters and the camera, hopped in the KOA van for the ride over, and off we went. Our driver was a full time RVer, a retired electrician who works during the summer and then goes off to visit his kids when the campground closes in October. We've met lots of full-time RVers who either work or volunteer while they travel.

When we got to the river there were a half dozen rubber rafts being prepared. We donned the mandatory life jackets, got the safety speech on what to do if we fell in, and were assigned to a guide. Ours was a young college grad named Hunter who decided to spend a few years having fun before settling down. When summer season ends he plans to work for one of the ski places to get free skiing during the winter.

Our two hours on the river delighted us. A picture perfect fall day gave us beautiful views of colorful trees set against a blue blue sky and the bluegreen river. We saw several eagles including two brown-headed juveniles with their mother. A river otter swam by as well.

Hunter told us Harrison Ford owns 40 acres in the area and often participates in rescue operations with his helicopter. He told a story of a young woman being airlifted off the mountain with a broken leg. When the pilot turned around to ask how she was doing, she saw it was Harrison Ford and fainted dead away. We think it's a river guide story, but maybe it's true and the actor has some Indiana Jones blood in him for real.

After enjoying the real thing we drove to the National Museum of Wildlife Art. Patrons of early wildlife art were hunters. So often animals were portrayed as the perfect specimen. Many artworks showed the "heroic male" of the species boldly standing in the foreground of a natural setting.

We finished our day walking around Jackson and eating at the Teton Steakhouse which had a fabulous soup and salad bar as well as a good senior sirloin at a reasonable price. Another memorable day in the great state of Wyoming!

Jackson Hole and a Tram Ride up Mount Rendezvous

2011-09-27T21:54:00.000-07:00

September 25-26

There's so much to do here in Jackson Hole we extended our two nights (with one full day to explore) into three nights. It gave us time to do laundry, catch up on some blogging because I have internet finally (none in Yellowstone's campground), and just enjoy gazing at the mountains and hiking along the river. We settled in on Sunday afternoon with enough daylight to walk down along the Snake river which runs in back of the campground. The tenters are right on the river overlook. Wow!

The next morning we dawdled a bit over breakfast then made a stop at the Visitor's Center to get hiking information. We decided to take a flat walk on the levee along the Snake River near the town of Wilson. At the .5 mile marker there were two female moose nibbling on the trees. Unfortunately, I couldn't get a clear picture because they were in behind the trees. We probably would have missed them entirely except for several other walkers who pointed them out. They really blend in with the scenery. We stood and watched them for a few minutes and then went on hoping they would come up on the levee to cross to the river for a drink. No luck. But the three mile out and back walk was delightful with all the fall colors and the bluest sky I've ever seen. We also came across a few young people with a border collie who was trying to catch his shadow. What a sweet little animal (reminded me of our Shaley who lived to be 16 and was our "circus dog" who would jump through hoops and do all kinds of tricks). The river is clearly down now and there is driftwood all along the dry places in the river. People tell us in the spring when the snow starts to melt it turns into a raging riot. I sure wouldn't want to take a whitewater trip then.

We drove up to Teton Village and had lunch at the Mangy Moose. It was breezy but we sat outside on their deck and braved the occasional cold gusts as we ate our buffalo burger and Idaho trout fish and chips. Great food and a hefty lunch to prepare us for a hike on the mountain. We took the tram to the top of Mt. Rendezvous. It was an eleven minute ride and what a view! But when I got off at the top, I had to sit down I had such vertigo. The mountain is over 10,000 feet elevation and looking down into the valley with nothing around me but open air (and a breeze to boot) made me dizzy. I had to look down at my feet when we climbed the stairs to the "top of the world" to view the scenery all around. Looking over at Grand Teton peak, the highest mountain in the range, we seemed to be at the same level but Rendezvous is actually about 3,000 feet lower. Sure didn't seem like it.

Dad with Grand Teton peak in back.

We hiked about a half a mile down the mountain and then stopped to sit on a rock and pray our rosary. A large group of young people came along and then an older man. We asked who the kids were. They were students from Iowa state studying landscape architecture and he was the professor. He said the hike was to explore what exactly landscape architecture means. What a place to think about it!

I'm not sure what "landscape architecture" is, we didn't get into that, but we've seen lots of buildings here in the west that are designed to fit into the landscape. I imagine that's what landscape architecture means -- designing buildings in comformity with the surroundings. There's definitely a different look here. The visitors centers and museums are often made with local stone and in different designs from back east -- simpler and more rugged. Lots of the log cabin type look in the restaurants with cowboy decorations: ten-gallon hats, saddles, dear and buffalo heads, antler chandaliers and door handles. It's really different from what we're accustomed to. And bronze sculptures, big bronze sculptures are everywere: bison, groups of elks, bears, moose, etc.

The temperature at the top of the mountain was about twenty degrees colder than the bottom. Brrr...ice and snow in the crevices. A sign at the top showed pictures of wildflowers and called the area an "alpine meadow." There were still flowers blooming among the rocks and it made me think of Heidi living with her grandfather on the mountainside and running barefoot in the summer meadows with Peter and the goats. The view down into the valley was breathtaking once I could look farther than my feet. I think I could get used to being that high. I never get vertigo on our own beloved Virginia mountains but they are an entirely different breed. I think the Massanutten is about 1500 feet as it rises from the dam below our house -- quite a bit smaller than 10,000 foot Mt. Rendezvous. And people ski off Rendezvous. Someone on the tram was talking about a teenager who was killed last winter when he fell head first into a snow well under a tree. Apparently the snow under the trees doesn't get packed down and he must have smothered when he couldn't get out. I hate to think of such things.

We looked for wildlife on the tram ride down but didn't see any. We did see lots of beautiful fall colors, but I kept hoping for a glimpse of mountain goats or bighorn sheep. No luck, only the shadow of the tram preceding us down the mountain.

Then back to the campground for a campfire. What camping trip would be complete without an occasional hot dog cooked on a stick over an open fire? The stars were brilliant in the dark, clear sky. So I've decided to name our little home on wheels la maison de les etoiles, the house of stars. We haven't spent much time there except at night sleeping under the stars.

Grand Teton, Jenny Lake, and Interesting Conversations

2011-09-27T20:54:00.000-07:00

Sunday, September 25

The angels continue to be on the job. This morning Larry noticed that the ball on the trailer hitch was loose. (Thanks, angels for the alert! Losing the trailer hitch could be a real disaster putting all the weight on the two linklines.) Lacking a wrench large enough to fix it, Larry borrowed one from our neighbor, another blessing. If you don't have the right tools, pray that a human angel has one to loan you. After tightening it, we hooked up and went off to a service station to have the hitch looked at and further tightened.

We had a long talk with the mechanic who is a native of Wyoming and fiercely independent. He described how the government is destroying the work ethic and gave the example of a friend who had open heart surgery and went on disability temporarily. He wanted to go back to work but social services told him if he did, not only would he lose disability, but he would also have to pay back all the disability he had received. So, of course, he can't afford to go back to work. This is how the government creates a permanent welfare class. Penalize work. Talking to this gentleman was a real education in economics. He said the people of Wyoming (about half a million in the entire state) keep a close watch on their state legislature. He favors a flat tax, but a state senator told him that will never happen because it would put so many people out of business: IRS agents, CPAs, tax preparers, etc. He predicted a revolution is coming bigger than the Civil War. Interesting conversation.

Meeting people around the country is fascinating. We had a long conversation the night before with a gentleman at the Jackson Lodge as we sat by the fire. He was concerned about government as well although he was more shoulder-shrugging, what-can-anyone-do-about-it frustrated. The mood out here is definitely anti-government. These are people who love America and hate what the career politicians are doing to her.

But back to vacation.... We left the service station and headed south toward Jackson Hole. I booked a KOA on-line (Gosh I love that Ipad my daughter-in-law loaned me! Thanks, Jes.) That relieved the stress of trying to find a place later so we could stop and take our time enroute which was exactly what we did.

The views along the road of the towering Grand Tetons are glorious! They are so strange. There are no foothills. The land is flat up to the base of mountain that then appears to go almost straight up. I can imagine the pioneers seeing those moutains. "Great Jehosaphat! How will we ever get over those?" And then there's the Snake River which crossed the Oregon Trail over and over so that the people had to ford or float it numerous times. Here behind our campground the Snake isn't too wide -- only about 30 yards, but it's swift and looks deep. Imagine a wagon train trying to cross that!

Jenny Lake is one of the prettiest stops we've made. We took the boat across the lake. It was a speedboat ride with the wind whipping so much we had to take off our hats or risk losing them into the lake. It made me laugh and I loved feeling the spray! Once we landed we hiked out and back to a beautiful waterfall (Hidden Falls) and an overlook only a little further on with an expansive view of the lake and the mountains. The walk was a well-travelled path but rocky and steep. It was like climbing an endless staircase along a stream. The views were lovely with water tumbling in little falls and cascades beside us all along the way.

Hidden Falls is probably a hundred foot drop and lovely. And only a little farther on was a rocky outcrop overlooking the lake. We didn't walk as far as Inspiration Point because I was worried about my knees holding out for the walk down which is very hard on them. But another angel had given me a hiking pole on the way up so I had that for support. Someone had passed it to him and, when we got about 200 yards from the boat landing, we met a group climbing up with a lady who clearly needed help. They commented on how smart I was to bring a pole and I said, "An angel gave it to me on the way up, and I'm passing it on to you. Have a wonderful walk." I hope she was able to make it to the falls.

We had a quick tailgate picnic in the parking lot and moved on to Jackson Hole where we found friendly KOA staff and set up for the next few nights. The bathrooms are spotless, the river is right below our campsite, and we are ready to explore Jackson Hole. My only regret is that the local parish showed no daily Mass. Churches out west have been fewer and farther between and have fewer priests. Pray for vocations.

A Big Thank You to the Angels

2011-09-25T21:20:00.000-07:00

I haven’t said anything about our angels, but they’ve been busy watching over us ever since we left. We have our guardian angels accompanying us, of course, but we also asked St. Michael the Archangel to come along as a protector and St. Raphael who travelled with Tobias on his journeys. What better companions can one aske for. And they have definitely been on the job.

Yesterday, was a case in point. We were planning to travel to Jackson Hole and stay at a campground there called The Virginian (appropriate for us coming from Virginia we thought). We’ve had no problem anywhere without reservations. But we stopped at a scenic pull off and a lady struck up a conversation asking if we were going to Jackson. When I said yes she said they had a reservation, but were coming a day early and the campground was full. They were going to be parking that night next to the dumpster. Well, we made an instant change of plans. We went as far as Colter Bay in the Grand Teton National Park and booked a site for the night in their RV park, the last night it was open actually. That particular campground closes Sept. 25th for the season.

The blessing of our change of plans was a lovely two-mile hike around Jackson lake with beautiful views of the mountains and a close encounter with a very tame mule deer who was munching on salad in the woods near the trail. She wasn’t the least bit afraid and we were no more than ten feet away. When she decided to move toward us we backed away. As the park warns, these are wild animals and deer have sharp hooves.

We went to Saturday afternoon Mass at the Chapel of the Sacred Heart which advertised a 5:00 p.m. service. It turned out to be a wedding as well. What an odd crowd with the wedding guests dressed to the nines and the campers in jeans and sneakers. We seem to be lucking out on the sacraments with a baptism at last week’s Mass and a wedding this week. May the bride and groom be blessed in their married life together.

Instead of heading straight back to the campsite we stopped at the Jackson Lodge for an appetizer and drink. The ranger at the campground advised us that they have floor to ceiling windows in the second floor lobby with spectacular views of the Grand Tetons. She wasn’t exaggerating. What a view of the sun setting behind the mountains. And to top it off, after it got dark (and chilly) there was a nice warm fire in the most interesting fireplace with moose andirons. It was a delightful end to a lovely day. Thanks, angels!

Surprising Yellowstone

2011-09-25T21:05:00.000-07:00

Old Faithful, the icon of Yellowstone

I’ve always thought Yellowstone was about pristine crystal lakes, rivers, and streams with fishermen casting with graceful movements. I imagined the forests with towering pines and rushing waterfalls, a land filled with wildlife: moose, bear, deer, antelope, coyotes, buffalo and wolves, and, of course, Old Faithful. And Yellowstone is all of that. But I didn’t realize that a major portion of Yellowstone’s features were geothermal. I had no idea that there were HUNDREDS of geysers and sputtering mud pools and fumeroles (steam vents) and hot springs. In the two days we travelled the northern and southern loops of the park we saw steam rising everywhere, even at the edges of the lakes. When we first entered the park we thought there was a fire and there was some fire activity, but most of what we saw was steam from the various thermal spots. Almost everywhere there was at least a faint scent of sulphur from the simmering geothermal activity. Yellowstone is actually a huge volcano and when you drive around the park and stop at the various geyser basins you realize it. In the Old Faithful geyser area we saw three major geysers erupt: Old Faithful (three separate times), the Beehive geyser, and the Castle geyser which went on for at least half an hour of throwing up water and was still belching steam twenty minutes later when we moved on.

We did a tour of the volcano mud pots with a park ranger, a retired biology teacher who works during the summer and goes home to Virginia at the end of the season. We learned the four different types of geothermal activity in the park: geysers, fumeroles, hot springs, and mud pots. The colors are amazing and in one area called the Porcelain Basin the rich turquoise, orange, copper, and yellow reminded me of Indian pottery – beautiful! There’s one area called the paint pots, but we didn’t stop to tour that area. There just wasn’t time to do it all.

Simmering pool in the Porcelain Geyser Basin

One of the most interesting areas we visiting was on the Firehill River Loop. After stopping at a geyser called the White Dome that erupts every 35 minutes(Luckily we caught its five minute show.), we moved on to a spot that features the “constant geyser” that bubbles and spurts continuously. It was in a lake called the Black Warrior set between Fire Lake and Hot Lake. The “lakes” were more like ponds, but the entire area was a steam sauna. Walking the boardwalk around Hot Lake we passed through a cloud of steam that was like a steam bath. I’m sure during the winter it’s a popular spot for wildlife. One of the rangers told us bison will often settle down in steamy areas during the hot summer because it suppresses the stinging insects. In the winter it no doubt keeps them warm.

Speaking of wildlife we saw quite a bit. Buffalo were all over. We were stopped by a group in the road on our way in from the east entrance when we arrived. One night in the dark we almost hit a large bull sauntering along in the road. He obligingly moved over to the other side to let us pass. We saw elk, but I can’t claim they were in the wild. One group was lounging around next to the parking lot at a visitor center. Another group were in the grass around the lodge in Mammoth. They apparently have no fear of people, but the park emphasizes with signs everywhere to keep your distance. They have many more injuries from charging buffalo than from bears.

We never did see a bear as a matter of fact, but I wasn’t about to go hiking in the woods looking for one. Mostly we were on the boardwalks in the geothermal areas and around the lake. We probably hiked about ten miles while we were in Yellowstone but none of it was in the back country where we might have met a bear. That was fine with me. We did see two coyotes from a distance and later a grey wolf crossing the road as we headed toward the southern entrance on the way to the Grand Tetons on Saturday. We felt we had seen more in our two days than anyone has a right to expect and were well satisfied with our visit.

Yellowstone is definitely an intriguing and fascinating place and I hope we make it back again before we hang up our hiking boots.

Charmed by Cody and Buffalo Bill

2011-09-25T20:07:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Cody around noon and checked in at the Ponderosa Campground, a great choice. The pull-through campsites were close together, but adequate and the bathrooms were immaculate, my primary requirement from a campground. The lady who checked us in was a walking tourist magazine and pointed us to all the great places to visit. We had to choose from among a wealth since we only had a day and half before moving on to Yellowstone. We decided to visit the Old West town only a short distance away. All the buildings are authentic, moved from one place or another. They consisted of a school, several settler cottages, a store, the saloon, a blacksmith shop, the carriage house, Curly’s cabin (an Indian guide to General George Custer and one of the few survivors of the Little Big Horn), the cabin used by Butch Cassidy and his hole in the wall gang, and a cemetery. There was a little museum as well as all the buildings. We wandered around for about an hour and a half. One of the most interesting areas was the cemetery where they reburied a number of people exhumed from other places who were important to Cody’s history. They were moved and reburied thanks to the efforts of a number of Cody citizens and organizations. Several have large monuments. There is certainly a sense of pride in Cody and a reverence for their famous sons and daughters.

As we were preparing to leave, a group of teenagers dressed up for a wild west reenactment arrived. Several of the girls looked like saloon babes decked out in satin, feathers, and fishnet stockings. They were making a movie for their English class on western literature. What fun. We hung around for awhile while they planned out what they were going to do. Several were talking about killing off their husbands. After visiting the town we stopped at a shop/museum nearby that features a large miniature display. It had military forts, Indian villages, pioneers travelling across the country, Indian buffalo hunts, Buffalo Bill’s wild west show, and railroads. What a labor of love putting such a display together and there was no entrance fee. A number of the display areas had audio explanations of the scenes. It was a great 45 minute stop and well worth the time.

The next morning after breaking camp and going to Mass at St. Joseph's (which turned out to be a Communion service because the pastor was out of town at a diocesan priests’ meeting), we went to the Buffalo Bill Museum nearby. It will probably be one of my favorite stops of the trip. The museum is divided into sections on Buffalo Bill, the Plains Indians, Firearms, and Western Art. I loved the section on Buffalo Bill. What a man, very much ahead of his time. He supported women’s suffrage, was one of the first to urge the preservation of areas as national parkland, and believed in paying a decent wage to his employees. His wild west show employed about 600 players and the logistics to go with it were astounding. But what I loved most about the man was his love for family. He and his wife had four children and only one grew to be an adult. There was charming letter from his daughter which she wrote shortly before her marriage telling him what a good father he’d been and asking him to love her husband as a son. Later Buffalo Bill wrote a delightful letter to his newborn granddaughter telling her he hoped she would love her granddaddy even though he was noisy and gruff and not be afraid of the shooting because he loved little children. One of my favorite photos in the display was Buffalo Bill dressed as Santa for some school children. After reading all the exhibits on his life, I was especially thrilled to see that the day before he died he was baptized a Catholic by a priest, an old family friend. What a fitting end to this saga of a good man, one of the most unique characters of the wild west.

One comment about our travels west: so many priests have multiple parishes. The Cody priest had his main church, St. Joseph, and two others listed in the bulletin. In many places we’ve visited, the bulletins show two, three, even four parishes being served by one priest. We are so blessed in my diocese to not have this problem – yet. Pray for religious vocations and good Catholic parents who foster them.

Heading West: Devil's Tower and a Night to Forget

2011-09-25T19:46:00.000-07:00

Devil’s Tower, a rock that was named the first national monument by Theodore Roosevelt in 1906 is only an hour or so from Spearfish and our first stop for the day on the way to Sheridan and Cody. We stopped for a roadblock just outside down -- horses in the roa d. They didn’t look wild so we presumed they got out through a broken fence. I enjoyed the photo op.

The stop at Devil’s Tower was well worth the two hours. As we drove up to the visitors’ center we passed a field of prairie dogs who were so brave they were all out and about right next to the road. I love those little creatures although I’m sure they are a pest from the farmers’ point of view – like groundhogs back east. But they are so entertaining!

We opted for the one mile walk around the tower. The rock formation is amazing with what looks like vertical columns all around. The Indians have a legend that the striations on the rock are the claw marks of a giant bear named Mato. The tower is a sacred place to the Sioux. As we walked around the paved tower circle trail we stopped dozens of times to watch the climbers. We counted at least twenty on our rounds and met the wife of one of them. Her husband was climbing it for the first time. He had a friend who had climbed it before and a 63-year-old with them was climbing it for the fifth time. They were climbing up the sunny side and had started at about 7:00 am. She guessed the treck up and down would be about eight hours and was a little concerned about the heat of the rock and the sun blazing down on them. The tower really is an amazing sight and many fallen rocks at the base show the pillar-like shape of the stones. Amazing!

As we drove west from Devil’s Tower we saw signs saying to follow the southern route as the “safest” way to Yellowstone over the Big Horn mountains. When we stopped for gas I asked the clerk about the two routes. “If you aren’t used to mountain driving, I’d recommend the southern route,” she said. “The northern is steep with a lot of switchbacks. It can be pretty unnerving if you aren’t used to it.” Well, flexibility is the name of the travel game and we made an instant change of plans as we started west toward Cody. We scratched Sheridan where we planned to stay the night and decided to head down to Thermopolis which has a hot spring. The mountains were a dicey drive so I’m glad we didn’t take the scarier route. By the time we got to Thermopolis it was getting dark and we had no Ipad service for checking out campgrounds. I thought there was camping at the state park but, that turned out to be a mistake and we headed back toward a campground we’d passed called The Fountain of Youth. It turned out to be an unpleasant, unkempt place. It had a spring fed pool but the bathrooms weren’t very clean and the entire campground appeared not to be maintained so I didn’t trust the cleanliness of the pool. The water changes regularly in a spring fed pool, but you still need to clean it regularly and when I put my foot in the bottom felt slippery. We decided not to unhook, just stay the night, and head out for Cody in the morning. To prevent our stay from being a total loss we went out to breakfast at a little café called the Black Bear that had great homemade corned beef hash. We bought a piece of homemade apple-plum pie for later and than stopped in at a little antique shop and browsed a bit. I found a paper sculpture in a shadow box that reminded me of the ones we saw in Rapid City so I bought it as a souvenir of our trip.

Larry and I are in no hurry to revisit Thermopolis. We’ll stick with our own hot springs in Virginia, the Jefferson Pools in Bath County. If you’ve never been there add it to your bucket list. It’s a great spot.

Return to Deadwood

2011-09-25T18:54:00.000-07:00

After visiting Spearfish Canyon on Sunday we circled around on a loop that passed through Deadwood. We had driven through on our way to Spearfish from Keystone on Saturday, but the town was bustling and parking was impossible especially with a camper so we just passed through planning to skip it. I’m so glad we changed our minds on our Sunday drive. Parking was still a challenge because all the meters required change and I’d left my purse at the camper. Of course, it was full of quarters. We drove around town and finally parked in the Main St. lot. We walked to the Chamber of Commerce where a helpful lady gave us some great advice on activities in town and a super spot for dinner. We walked back into the center of town to catch the Wild Bill Hickock murder in Saloon # 10, a free show. “He’s killed three times a day, at one, three, and five,” she told us. We got there just in time and had a front row table. The young man playing Wild Bill got volunteers from the audience to play his three poker partners and the bartender. They all dressed up as the characters and played cards quietly while Bill gave us his history.

It was a great little thirty minute show with Wild Bill telling us all about his adventures. Wow! He packed a lot into his short life. He was a sheriff in Abilene but gave that up after he accidently shot and killed his deputy during a gun battle with a bunch of bad guys. Friends with Buffalo Bill Cody, he joined Cody’s Wild West Show for awhile, but didn’t like being on display. Finally, he headed out to Deadwood, a gold mining town, leaving his new bride back east telling her he’d make their fortune. He had a claim with a friend but decided the real money was to be made at the poker table. He always sat facing the door with his back to the wall, but on that fateful day one of the other players was sitting in his chair and wouldn’t get up. Wild Bill argued with him twice, but couldn’t prevail on him to change places. Sitting with his back to the door, he never saw Jack McCall come up behind him and draw his gun. McCall shot him in the back of the head. He died instantly. It was a pretty dramatic reenactment with all the poker players running out the back chasing McCall. The bartender came over and felt his pulse and said, “Wild Bill is dead.” The only one missing was Calamity Jane, a friend of Bill’s who was sweet on him and helped chase down McCall. “It’s the purtiest corpse I ever did see,” she wailed seeing Wild Bill after they laid him out. Later when she was dying she asked to be buried next to him on “Boot Hill,” the Mt. Moriah Cemetery. Larry and I drove up to the cemetery and walked to their graves and then wandered around praying the Sorrowful Mysteries of the rosary for all the souls buried there. In one place they had a sign for the children who died over a two year period from epidemics. We also hiked up to the highest grave in the cemetery where Seth Bullock lies. Whew! It was quite a treck. Bullock became marshal of Deadwood after Wild Bill’s murder and was determined to clean things up.

We also visited the Franklin Hotel, one of the oldest in Deadwood. Many famous people have stayed there including John Wayne and Theodore Roosevelt. The main lobby sports a casino now but they’ve maintained many of the historic features including beautiful chandeliers and some rooms upstairs with antiques. Frankly, I wouldn’t want to stay there. It’s seedier than grand once you leave the lobby, but it was an interesting place to walk around.

By the time we finished sightseeing, it was dinnertime and we went off to check out the recommendation from the lady at the visitor’s center. The Lodge at Deadwood is relatively new and is on a hill right outside town. There’s a sports grill on one side and a restaurant on the other. We opted for quiet and no TVs. The menu had some great choices and we had a hard time deciding between steak or fish, but fish won out. Wow! It was one of the best dinners I’ve ever had at a restaurant. I had the walleye (from Minnesota or Wisconsin) smothered in herbs and minced veggies. Larry had a potato encrusted salmon. Both dishes were delicious and the bread was so good I took home the last three pieces in the bread basket – too good to throw out! My dad always said you could judge a restaurant by its bread and this was certainly first rate.

While we were eating the bride and groom we saw that morning at Roughlock Falls came in. We stopped at their table before we left and wished them all the best. Then we drove back to our campsite in Spearfish feeling like we’d gotten the flavor of a real “wild west” town. What a fun day!

Here I am standing between Wild Bill and his killer.

Sunday Drive in Spearfish Canyon

2011-09-20T17:57:00.000-07:00

Since we went to Mass Saturday afternoon, we slept in til 7:45 Sunday morning and ate a leisurely breakfast before packing up lunch and our hiking boots and heading out to Spearfish Canyon. What ascetic spot! Our first stop was Bridal Veil Falls which is right along the road and a quick photo op. From there we drove along slowly for several miles admiring the canyon walls Many of the rock formations resembled the spires and turrets of castles - plenty of scope for the imagination as Ann Shirley would say.

Several miles down the road we pulled into a small parking area at iron creek and hiked into the forest along the canyon floor. The creek tumbled and bubbled along beside us as we walked, a charming companion on our meandering walk. Many spots had little cascades and splashes. It would have been fun to wade, but it was too chilly in the shade and since the creek was below us we would have had to make our own way through the underbrush. Since there are rattlesnakes around there, I wasn't eager to put my feet into spots where I couldn't see the ground through the weeds.

We hiked in for about 45 minutes and out again along the same path. Sound boring? It isn't. If you're a hiker, you know that the walk path in the opposite direction is a completely different experience. I noticed flowers and rock formations I didn't notice walking the opposite direction. Back near the parking lot I picked up a rock I'd placed in the path that had lovely colors

to add to my collection from our trip. They'll make great bookends!

We drove along the canyon oohing and ahhing at the beautiful views until we came to a sign for Roughlock Falls. It was amazing to find such a well-developed and manicured area back in the woods. The falls are a breathtaking sight. There were also rough-hewn and varnished picnic tables and benches that could have been in a woodworkers' museum. Just beautiful. The path down to the falls was concrete in some places and stone in others - lovely. A bride and groom were getting their pictures taken. She was in a white gown, but he wore a simple white and blue striped shirt over dark pants. Amazingly we ran into them again later at dinner after a full day of sightseeing. What a coincidence. (See here for the story.) The falls name comes from the fact that pioneers crossing the area had to "lock" their wheels and slide to prevent their wagons from careening down the mountainside. Interesting how things get their names.

Below the falls is a path that goes for about a mile along the creek. We walked it for about a quarter mile to a spot where it opened up into a wetlands pond. A little past that point it entered the woods and we turned back. A man carrying a tripod and large camera with a zoom was doing some photographing. We had passed him several times as he went through the underbrush down along the stream. On the way back we got into a conversation and he told us the pond was the site of a winter scene in Dances with Wolves where the horses went through the ice. We haven't seen the movie, but will just to look for that scene. Kevin Costner fell in love with the Black Hills while filming it and later opened a museum about the Buffalo called Tatonka which is just outside Deadwood. We hoped to go, but didn't have time before it closed after spending the afternoon in Deadwood which was lots of fun. But Deadwood deserves a post of its own. Until Later...

By the way, no sign of our stowaway. We think he jumped ship along the way, so we have no doubt upset the ecological balance of another state and introduced a new strain to the mouse population making them genetically stronger.

Mt. Rushmore and Rapid City in the Rain

2011-09-17T16:46:00.000-07:00

Wed. Sept, 14th

Wednesday night whenever I woke up I heard rain pattering on the camper roof. It’s a soothing sound, but I was hoping it would stop by morning. It didn’t and it was freezing as well, down in the 30s. Nothing like a COLD rain to dampen your spirits. We had a leisurely breakfast waiting to see if the weather would improve. No luck. So we decided to go into Rapid City and check out inside activities. But when I looked for attractions in the Garmin the first thing that came up was Mt. Rushmore. It was so close, only 1.7 miles away, that we decided we’d just take a quick look and then go back on Friday. But when we got there the drizzle had subsided to a mist that didn’t seem too bad so we parked and headed into the visitor center/museum. At the outside viewing area I took some pictures that turned out well. One advantage of a cloud cover is no shadows. The faces were clear.

I’ve seen pictures of Mt. Rushmore, but being there is a different experience. Just the scope of the vision is impressive – to carve a mountain. Frankly, it would never occur to me to do such a thing. And it’s almost funny to read about its conception, “an idea to draw sightseers.” Well, it certainly has succeeded in doing that. Even in the rain and outside the popular season there were plenty of tourists and us among them.

In the museum we watched the movie about its creation. What a project! Much of the “sculpting” was done with dynamite and the sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, had a crew of about 400 workmen helping. Over $800,000 of the million dollar tab was picked up by the federal government. Isn’t that interesting when you consider its original purpose was to be a tourist trap. LOL! Well, the federal government gets its $11 a car. I imagine it brings in millions every year and the government has recouped its investment many times over. The thing I found most inspiring were the photos and quotes from the workers who became truly caught up in the project.

Larry and I followed the president’s trail that gave a number of interesting views of the individual heads. At one point I snapped George Washington and when I looked at the picture I had inadvertently positioned a pine bow to make him look like he was wearing earmuffs. It made me laugh and reminded me of all those photos you get with things coming out of people’s heads.

About halfway around the trail is the artist’s studio with a model that Borglum was working from. His original design included the presidents’ upper bodies, but that part of the project died with Borglum.

Since we had to go back through Keystone to go to Rapid City, we stopped at Peggy’s for lunch. The sign said “home cooking” and it certainly was. The chicken noodle soup was so good I was sorry I only ordered a cup. We shared a first-rate Reuben sandwich as well. While waiting for a table we struck up a conversation with a gentleman from Australia who loves coming to America. He’s been all over. We also talked to a couple from Wisconsin. Part of the fun of traveling is having these impromptu conversations with interesting people.

Our first stop in Rapid City was the visitors’ center. Right next door was a park which included an exhibit on the Berlin Wall. That was a head scratcher to us until we started reading the markers. Mt. Rushmore seems to have given Rapid City a sort of national identity with an emphasis on patriotism. Americans can do big things, they seem to say, whether it’s creating a nation based on republican principles and rights, building the Panama Canal, carving a mountain, or running an airlift into a besieged foreign city.

There are several blocks downtown with a bronze model of each of the presidents through George W. Bush. We were intrigued by the “props” in each sculpture. John Kennedy held John-John’s hand. Taft was crouching with a baseball behind his back ready for the pitch. Truman held the newspaper that says “Dewey wins.” George Bush Sr. has his hand on a globe. Reagan is wearing his signature cowboy hat and boots. If it hadn’t been so cold we would have visited all of the presidents. Instead we stopped at Edge of the Prairie, a combination store and museum of Indian culture. The art was incredible including paper sculptures in three dimensions, one showing a buffalo hunt. Very impressive.

We went to the 5:30 Mass at the Cathedral, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, for Our Lady of Sorrows’ feast day. It was another orthodox, reverent Mass. So far the closest we’ve come to a crazy liturgy was a sign for a “polka Mass” on the Door Peninsula in Wisconsin, but we haven’t seen any liturgical dancers dancing the polka or anything else. On the other hand, we’ve been to two Sunday Masses where the congregation was praying the rosary before Mass and this evening virtually the entire congregation stayed after the priest left to make their thanksgiving.

Our day ended with dinner at the Alpine restaurant in Hill City which has one menu item – filet mignon in two sizes for either $8.95 or $10.95 served with a baked potato, lettuce wedge, and Texas toast. Having only one dinner item doesn’t seem to suppress their business; it was booming and we had to wait 40 minutes for a table.

What a great day! And the weatherman is calling for sun tomorrow.

Gateway to the West, South Dakota

2011-09-16T20:47:00.000-07:00

We left Luverne on Wednesday, September 14th and ten miles later crossed the border into South Dakota. The Garmin said it was 5.5 hours to our next stop, but that was with 75 mph speed limits and we can't travel that fast pulling a camper so it was a long day. We had paid reservations at a campground in Keystone that doesn't allow late arrivals so we had to be there by 8:00 pm, an unfortunate restriction because we had a few stops we wanted to make -- at the tourist traps, the Corn Palace and Wall Drug, and that amazing natural wonder, Badlands.

Well, it was clear as we went along that something had to give, so we dumped the Corn Palace and Wall Drug in favor of the loop off the highway into the Badlands. Before we got there, though, we had to travel two thirds of the state with mile after mile of sunflower fields, all gone to seed, but still impressive waving in the sun. We made a rest stop at an Amish market that had beautiful handmade quilts -- museum quality I'd say. I wish I had $800-$1500 to buy one. We bought pieces of cherry and apple pie instead and a loaf of dark rye bread we've been working on ever since. Yum! (Oops, Larry just reminded me that the Amish market was in Minnesota. I'm getting a little befuddled after all these days travelling. Our first stop was in Ohio and since then we've travelled through Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota. Is it any wonder I get up in the morning asking, "What day is it and what state are we in?" LOL!)

We reached the Badlands loop late in the afternoon and stopped to gas up before entering the park. Coming out of the store I noticed the adjacent field was teeming with wildlife -- prairie dogs. They were white except for a few light tan. I wondered if that was normal or if these were an albino strain. They chattered and squeaked as Larry and I sat for a few minutes at a picnic table watching them. What a chorus, I presume a warning. "Strangers...strangers...danger...danger!" One sat at the top of his hole squeaking and waving his tail like a warning flag. God's creatures delight the heart with their antics.

Entering the Badlands we had the sense of stepping into another world -- even another planet. The rock formations look like a movie set of a moonscape or something out of Star Wars. It gave me an eerie feeling. I wish we could have hiked, but we needed to move on to make our reservation so our trip through was hasty with just a few stops for photos.

By the time we got to Keystone it was dark. This is the first time we've had to set up in the dark and there were few lights in the campground. But we had a nice long level site so Larry had no problem backing in. Then we turned the car around and used the lights to see what we were doing. We've pretty much got our camping routine down to a science and were set up within half an hour. Then supper, catching up on postcards to the grandkids, and a little journaling about the trip.

What an adventure it has been so far with every new stop dazzling us with its uniqueness. What a country! From sea to shining sea it's filled with magnificent jewels -- not the least of which are its people. We have met such dear folk as we travel. Many have made our journey easier and certainly all have made it more pleasant. Think I'll pray them all tonight at bedtime. Thank you, Lord, for our exciting adventure.

Lovely and Friendly Luverne, MN

2011-09-15T09:09:00.000-07:00

Monday afternoon, September 12th we left La Crosse, WI, crossed the mighty Mississippi for the last time on our western leg and headed across Minnesota to the western border town of Luverne and two nights at Blue Mounds State Park. The ride across the state impressed us with the realization that this part of the country is truly a breadbasket for the U.S. - farm after farm with fields of corn and soybeans. In many places there were windmills turning. A flatbed truck passed us on the highway carrying two windmill blades that covered the entire length of the bed. Wow! Those things are huge. In one place there must have been 15 or 20 windmills and all but one or two were still. There was plenty of wind which made us wonder if they turn them off at certain times of the day. It was getting on toward dusk -- concern for the bat population? They are an impressive sight. Wonder how much energy each one actually generates.

Travelling west we had a magnificent view of the sunset. I was driving so I didn't get a picture, but the sun was just sinking below the horizon as we turned off the highway for the short trip to the park. Blue Mounds is another scenic campground and we had our choice of sights. We were among three or four campers and when we left on Wednesday we were the only ones left. Talk about feeling rich. We owned the place!

One of our best memories of Luverne will be the little parish of St. Catherine's. We went to Mass Tuesday morning and there were about 15 people in the church mostly older. We must have stuck out because father stopped us after Mass and asked our names and where we were from. Then he proceeded to introduce the "visitors" to all his parishioners. What a friendly group. Later that evening, after a day of hiking at the park and visiting nearby Touch the Sky prairie, we were relaxing around a campfire when a car pulled in and drove through the campground. As we watched them, Larry commented that they must be scouting the park for a future visit. We do that sometimes. Well they were scouting, but we soon found out why. They stopped at our site and introduced themselves again as parishioners who were at Mass that morning. Dell and Eileen just wanted to see how we were doing. It touched our hearts.

We had spent the day hiking along the crest and the base of the "blue mounds," the Sioux quartzite rock that gives the park its name. There's an old quarry that was active for about a dozen years, 1919-1931. Very dramatic views from both the top and bottom. We met a man giving a basic climbing lesson to a gal although he didn't look fit enough to be much of a climber. We also met a hiker from Wisconsin who gave us some tips about good hiking areas around Lawrence, KS where we'll be meeting our daughter and family on the way home. We met him again later and he'd written down the names. We have met so many kind folks on our travels!

We attended morning Mass on Wednesday before heading west and, at the final blessing, Father paused and prayed over us for safe travels. After Mass he invited us to join him for coffee back in the office with some of his parishioners. We had a delightful visit and found out that Father is an avid gardener, had won a gorgeous quilt at the country fair nearby (The ladies were already soliciting it for a parish raffle.), and had created a "duck garden" in the church courtyard where he installed twelve little "apostles" who thrived until they were moved to a farm. We read the article from the local paper that was mounted on the wall near the courtyard door where the little ducklings lived for awhile.

The statues in the outside gardens around the church are absolutely beautiful! I especially loved one of Mary and Jesus that Father bought in memory of his dad after he died. We loved Blue Mounds for its beautiful cliffs and prairie land, for the buffalo herd we saw up close and personal, for the big skies, waving grasses, and colorful wildflowers; but mostly we'll remember Luverne for the Catholic family we found there. We joined hands in prayer with them for two short days, but we'll remember their kindness and friendliness as a highlight of our trip. It gave me a graphic illustration of St. Paul's heart link to the communities he founded on his missionary journeys. I can say with him, "I continually thank my God for you."

Farewell to Wonderful Wisconsin

2011-09-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

As we headed out of La Crosse I made mental notes summing up our Wisconsin experience. First the Ws:

WEATHER: Wonderful! We left the wind and rain (as well as the tolls) behind in Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. We had glorious summer both around Green Bay and in La Crosse.

WILDER: Laura Ingalls Wilder is well-loved in this part of the country and we were charmed by our afternoon at Laura Days.

WINGED WONDERS: Seeing bald eagles resting in trees and flying over the Mississippi was exciting for these two avid bird wathers.

WATER: What a river! The mighty Mississippi should be ranked among the wonders of the western world. Makes me want to take a Mississippi cruise or at least a land cruise along her banks. No wonder Mark Twain loved her and sang her praises. With Lake Michigan and Green Bay in the east and the river in the west, Wisconsin really is a water lover's paradise. And we saw plenty of evidence of it with the boaters, bathers, and water-skiers. It was especially fun to see the children in tubes being pulled behind a boat.

WORSHIP: What a great place to go on pilgrimage! Our Blessed Lady watches over the state from east to west inviting all to a closer walk with her Son. We saw many pro-life billboards as we drove across the state.

RANDOM THOUGHTS: First glimpse of fall color, blue spruce and other evergreens everywhere, Christmas tree farms, giant silos, Green Bay Packers fans, impressive bluffs and scenic rides, a fabulous four days in America's dairyland!

Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us

2011-09-14T13:28:00.000-07:00

Monday morning before we left La Crosse, we visited the shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe outside town. The ride gave us beautiful views of farms, forest, and rolling hills where we saw contoured farm fields. All was lush and green. We found the shrine without any trouble although we weren't too confident in the Garmin after our failed search for the Shrine to the Sorrowful Mother in Ohio.

We were hardly prepared to find the magnificence in store for us at here in La Crosse. The main church is glorious with rose-colored marble columns supporting a baldacchino over the altar. The paintings, statues, and stations in the church are beautiful, but it was the bronze statues and stations outside that really lifted my heart to God. There's a shrine to Blessed Kateri and a garden dedicated to the unborn with a large statue of Mary holding three tiny babies on her lap, a modern pieta. The rosary walk had four curved walls along the way depicting each set of mysteries. The individual mysteries were blue and white tiles. The coronation of Mary showed her over the earth with North and South America clearly visible on the globe and the moon and stars over her head, a powerful image of her as Queen of the Americas and Queen of the Universe.

One of my favorite statues was in front of the main church. It showed Juan Diego before the bishop who is kneeling in front of the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe on Juan's tilma. What a gesture of humility on the part of the bishop to kneel at the feet of Mary's messenger, her humble servant Juan. At the foot of the tilma are the roses he has brought to the bishop.

We attended the noon Mass and were pleased when Communion was distributed at the altar rail. The acoustics in the church are wonderful for amplifying the singing, but it was hard to understand the sermon because of the echo, the only disappointment of our visit. I imagine it isn't a problem when the church is full. After several hours we pulled ourselves away so we could make our next stop in Luverne, MN before dark. We bid a fond farewell to Wisconsin with the firm intention of returning again. Our Lady of Guadalupe and Mother of the Americas, pray for us.

The River Road, Laura Days, and the Bluffs

2011-09-13T17:20:00.000-07:00

After Sunday morning Mass morning, we set off for Alma, WI to meet friends for lunch. Cathy and Kenneth were fellow parishioners from our days at St. Louis in Alexandria. Our youngest daughter and their oldest were buddies growing up and are still keep track of each other on Facebook. We got together at a cheery little place right on the river called the Pier 4 Cafe, I presume because it's next to one of the river locks. A model train was mounted overhead and periodically ran around the restaurant making quite a racket. They specialize in barbecue and Larry and I shared their pulled pork sandwich special along with a Wisconsin tradition of "cheese curds." They were like fried mozzarella sticks, but Cathy said every restaurant serves a different version. These got a so-so from her and when she asked the waitress if they made them there the answer was no. We'll have to look for them again. In fact we need to find some Wisconsin cheese before we leave.

The ride to Alma was along the Great River Road which meanders back and forth across the Mississippi between Wisconsin and Minnesota. We stopped briefly at Winona in Minnesota on our way to lunch to observe a local 9/11 event at the Veterans Hall. It was good to see people coming out with their families to remember the ten year anniversary. Has it really been that long already? I remember picking up the phone and having a friend tell me to turn on the television because a plane had just flown into one of the Twin Towers. I think those images will be burned in my memory forever.

After lunch we went up to the bluffs overlooking the town. What a view! Our photo against the backdrop is so perfect it looks fake doesn't it? Then on to Pepin for their celebration of Laura Days, an annual event commemorating Laura Ingalls Wilder. Great fun! There was a parade and many period demonstrations. I talked to the blacksmith and churned cream for awhile. I bought two little pitchers from the potter and had an interesting conversation with a lady making a whisk broom. We also drove a few miles farther to visit the spot where Laura was born. A replica of the little house in the big woods is located there and it sure was little! A young girl and several women were dressed in period costumes. There were activities for kids like piecing a quilt and walking on stilts. I tried the stilts and actually managed to take a few steps before falling over. It's not easy -- at least for a grandmother like me.

Back in town we watched a little of the parade which consisted mainly of local politicians, antique cars, flatbed trucks decorated with bunting carrying lots of riders, and fire engines. Several participants had 9/11 messages and we saw one truck in a driveway after the parade with a large "God Bless America" sign. I love these little community events that bring out all the local patriots. It was a delightful event.

Heading back to La Crosse on the river road we decided to stop at Great Bluffs State Park and got an incredible view of the river. Then we headed home for a simple supper, laundry, and a crash night. Larry is snoozing as I type. I'll write a few postcards

before I close up shop. Another great day on the road across America! Tomorrow -- Blue Mounds State Park in Minnesota and perhaps a trip to Walnut Grove.

A Cruise on the Mighty Mississippi

2011-09-13T13:59:00.000-07:00

We arrived in La Crosse in time for a sunset cruise on the Mississippi on a little shallow boat that goes into the backwaters to spy for eagles' nests and other wildlife you don't see from the big paddleboats steaming down the center of the river. The naturalist on board told us about the life on the Mississippi as we pulled into channels, one with a beaver dam, to play I spy on the river. We saw several eagles' nests (inactive since the fledglings leave the nest by July), turtles on logs, three eagles either sitting in trees or flying, deer walking in the distance on one of the islands, boathouses that float on the edge of the river but don't move (as differentiated from houseboats which go from place to place which we also saw). She had hands on nature exhibits: two turtle shells, a model eagle skull (what eyeholes! They can see three miles away.), feet from a red-tailed hawk, a goose, and a barred owl, and other things. It was a painless way to learn a little about nature and she drafted several "junior naturalists" to carry the items around for display. When one little girl came to show us the beaver skull, Larry commented on what a dental bill the beaver would have!

It was a delightful and relaxing two-hour respite after several very busy days. Many people out boating called and waved to us. The river folk are definitely a friendly breed. We saw several with children on tubes being pulled. They were practically flying over the surface. What a river! We'll cross it again on our return trip and it will be like meeting an old friend. If you've never read Mark Twain's Life on the Mississippi, I heartily recommend it. .

This really is a bald eagle in the tree. Wish I had a more powerful zoom.

Sturgeon Bay and Door Country, Wisconsin

2011-09-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

Sturgeon Bay and the Door Country Peninsula are like the shore of an inland ocean: plenty of surf, beaches, and beach towns that reminded me of Cape Cod. And all the good stuff that goes with it including homemade ice cream shops. Sturgeon Bay had decorated fish all over town (presumably sturgeon). And Door County has beaucoup lighthouses! Do you know there are more lighthouses in that one county in Wisconsin than anywhere else in the country? Wow!

We could have spent a week visiting the state and county parks, but had to settle for just a few. We chose Cave Point county park for its interesting rock formations caused by the pounding surf and Peninsula State Park for its view of the Bay. We also visited the lighthouse north of Bailey's Harbor where we stopped for homemade ice cream at the Yum Yum Tree. (Larry had amoretto almond chocolate. I had two junior scoops because I just couldn't decide, exteme chocolate and coconut. Yum-yum doesn't do it justice.) That gave us energy to climb the big observation tower at Peninsula Park where we met a nice couple celebrating their 44th wedding anniversary. We took each other's pictures with the charming village of Ephraim in the background.

Heading back to our campground we watched the sun setting over the bay. We stopped to snap a picture, but I just missed the sun sliding below the horizon. Still pretty. And then back home for a late dinner of salmon, summer squash, and salad. We've been eating most meals in and enjoying it. We generally pack a picnic for lunch and prepare dinner in the camper. It makes our little house on wheels feel like home.

Indiana Dunes: A Little Bit of Everything

2011-09-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, yesterday when we went to the beach I forgot to bring the camera so all that beautiful sunshiny landscape and a walk up a big sand dune are locked in my memory, but no pics. I told Larry we had to stop at the beach before we left to take pictures of the beach for the trip record.

This morning's plan was to hike the marsh trail before we left on the next leg of our journey. On the way to the path we passed a Mennonite family with three little blonde boys -- one in a stand up backpack smiling over the top. I admired the children and their dad and I had a brief conversation about the joys of family. As we chatted his young bonnetted daughter came back to the campsite carrying water. It was a charming picture to begin the day.

We had a choice of trails around the park, but picked the "easy" one through the woods and the marsh. What a delightful walk in the woods! Wildflowers surprised us around each curve tucked in among the tall grasses -- some I recognized from Virginia. The orange jewel weed is one of my favorites. The red cardinal flower was easy to spot. I think the blue is lobelia. So many of the trees were huge old oaks. One that fell over the path was cut away. According to the rings on the trunk that remained, it had to be at least 100 years old.

A sign on the path warned that the boardwalk through the marsh was impassable. I'm glad we ignored it because, while it was definitely damaged, we had no trouble. the marsh was a little bit of a disappointment. We're used to Huntley Meadows in Alexandria with a boardwalk that meanders through a watery pond. But this was what the naturalist at the Nature Center called a "buttonwood marsh." He said he kayaks through it in the spring and sometimes has to pull himself through some spots the undergrowth is so thick. We stopped at the observation tower and found some evidence of wildlife there, some animal scat full of seeds. The view of the "the marsh" gave no evidence of its watery ground. I guess we'll have to take the naturalist's word for it.

In one place along the trail, nature's garbage men were busy decomposing a fallen tree which had disintegrated into sawdust. When Jamie and I did the pre-school Nature Detectives at Huntley Meadows I always wanted to do a program on the decomposers, but we never got around to it. Something on my bucket list I'll probably never do, but I can talk about it with my grandkids.

Some of the trees had the strangest deformities. I wonder what causes that. We also saw one that had three trees growing so close together they were like Siamese triplets. We ended our walk at the nature center which has some fascinating displays including one about the fur trappers with an exhibit of different pelts. I sat in the canoe on display and imagined what it was like to paddle around Lake Michigan two hundred years ago.

When we got back to the campsite it was beginning to drizzle. (Hmm...Why are we always taking the camper down and hooking up in the rain? I hope this is not a harbinger of the entire trip!) We stopped at the beach for my photos and then headed out to Chicago around 12:30 with every expectation of missing rush hour. What a mess! It took us 45 minutes to go about five miles. It was slow enough for me to get a picture of the skyline -- about as close as I wanted to get. We are definitely country folk and nothing in the city can tempt us enough to make a stop there especially after they soak you for tolls every few miles. In one place it was $3.50 per car and they charged us $10.10 for one extra axel with our modest pop-up camper.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. We arrived at Bay Shore County Park outside Green Bay about 6:30. Wow! The parks just get better and better. Bay Shore overlooks Lake Michigan from a bluff and the campsites are large and level. We didn't have time to explore before dark, but look forward to that adventure tomorrow.

Challenge to my grandchildre: Can you count the rings in this tree? Can you find rings that show a year with more rain? Less Rain?

Our Lady of Good Help, Pray for Us

2011-09-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

Today we visited the shrine of Our Lady of Good Help, where the Blessed Mother appeared to Adele Brise in the 1800s and urged her to "teach the children." Driving through the Wisconsin peninsula, I can easily imagine the challenge for Adele. Much of the land at that time was probably forest as immigrant families worked to clear the land and prepare it for crops. The farms were spread out and it must have required real effort to go from one to another to gather the children for catechism.

Today, the shrine is located on six acres nestled in between farms. Corn silk sways in the breeze and hay bales are rolled and ready to store for winter feeding within a few steps of the chapel. It was a personal reminder to me that God is always right there amid the toils and turmoils of our day.

A crypt with a beautiful statue of Our Lady occupies the site of the apparition and Adele is buried nearby as are some of her co-workers. What a place of peace! As Larry and I wandered around the grounds praying the rosary, visiting the Stations of the Cross and the Lourdes and Fatima grottoes, we felt we were standing on holy ground. The priest who celebrated Mass challenged us to open our hearts to receive God's gifts. If God is trying to shower us with graces and we open an umbrella, we block His generosity. He can only give us what we are willing to accept.

Father reminded us of the spiritual works of mercy, the need especially to bear wrongs patiently. What a challenge! How much easier to moan and wail like the children of Israel in the desert.

Our three hours at the shrine was a good reminder that our journey across this great country is a pilgrimage of hope. And we do not make the journey alone. How many of my favorite saints adorned the church and grounds: St. Joseph, of course, St. Francis, St. Jean Vianney, St. Clare, St. Maximilian Kolbe, Padre Pio, and others. St. Michael the Archangel was there with his big sword vanquishing the devil. Larry and I have three saints we have invoked for our trip. St. Joseph as our spiritual father, protector, and maintenance worker. He has already helped us with several mechanical glitches. We invited St. Benedict to make our car and camper a little monastery on wheels as we travel around and to intercede for a hospitable reception wherever we go. And last - St. Michael as a strong guardian. I'm sure a grizzly is no match for his shining sword, not to mention human grizzlies.

How I loved visiting this humble little shrine and reflecting on the witness of holy men and women like Adele Brise. (Learn more about her here.)We have so much for which to be grateful and a grateful heart is linked closely to humility. This lovely, humble shrine in the countryside of Wisconsin far from any imposing cities draws the pilgrim to desire a humble heart because, as the psalmist says, "A humble, contrite heart you will not spurn, O Lord." I don't think He will spurn a grateful heart either.

Frustrating Day, New Time Zone, and New Lake

2011-09-07T19:20:00.000-07:00

What a day! I woke up last night to the sound of teeming rain and this morning continued more of same. We went to Mass and came back intending to pack up and leave, but delayed to see if the rain would stop. An hour later we decided it wasn't going to end anytime soon and donned our rain ponchos. The rain wasn't coming straight down, however, it was blowing from the side so, by the time we were done hooking up, we were both soaked despite our rain gear. Ah well, neither of us is a witch so we don't melt. But, wouldn't you know it, as soon as we turned out of the campground the rain let up.

Our plan was a visit to Sorrowful Mother Shrine in Bellevue about half an hour south and only a little out of the way to our next stop. We put the address in the Garmin and off we went. Ah...the best laid plans.Thirty minutes later we were at the location according to the Garmin with nothing but farms and fields all around us. We drove another four miles on State road 269...no shrine and no signs indicating it was anywhere along that road despite the address on their website. Disappointed we decided we'd save that adventure for another time and turned around to head back to the turnpike.

The rain continued all the way through Ohio, but the skies began to clear shortly after we crossed into Indiana. What a blessing to see the sun! Near South Bend we passed into the Central Time Zone and picked up an hour which let us arrive at Indiana Dunes State Park on Lake Michigan around 4:15 with time to take a short hike. At least that was our plan until we opened the camper to find the refrigerator door lying on the floor and food rolling around. The screws on the oven door had worked loose as well and handle was hanging askew. Sigh!

We planned to keep the car hooked up to the camper so we could just take off tomorrow, but Larry didn't have the right size wrench to fix the door, so he figured he'd need to go off to the hardware store to get what he needed. On the way over to the bathroom I was praying and the thought popped into my head, "Ask your neighbor." Of course! Larry went over and borrowed an entire tool box full of different sized wrenches. He fixed the refrigerator door and we were off on that hike after all down to the beach. Then back "home" for a delicious dinner of homemade stew, salad, and bread and butter. We topped it off with the Pennsylvania red wine Bert and Jenny gave us on Monday. As I type this, Larry is fixing the oven door and things aren't looking so bad after all. Our frustrations seem a lot less annoying after a good dinner

Indiana Dunes is a beautiful state park and the campsites are generous and level. The park is located right on Lake Michigan. From the campground the beach is about a third of a mile with a large bathhouse that has an oriental look to it -- very exotic. It's closed now since swimming is prohibited after Labor Day. The waves were wild. It reminded me of the Outer Banks, but the wind was a gale blowing up a stinging sandstorm that made me glad I hadn't taken off my glasses. We walked along the beach and were going to take one of the dune trails back to the campground, but after walking up the first dune and seeing the downhill stretch and another tall dune ahead we decided to return to the beach for the flat walk back. Tomorrow morning we plan to hike the marsh trail before we head out for our next stop -- Champion, Wisconsin and the Shrine to Our Lady of Help. Hopefully, we'll find that one!

Lessons for the day:
1) Don't trust the weather man. He said the weather between Virginia and Wisconsin for our first few days of travel was going to be partly cloudy. Ha!
2) Don't trust the Garmin. Sometimes it's great. Other times....
3) The only one you can trust all the time is the Lord. When in crisis pray. He may send you to the neighbor with the right tools.

Marblehead, OH and Kelleys Island -- Windswept Shores!

2011-09-07T19:19:00.000-07:00

When we arrived at our campground last night the north wind was blowing up a gale. No rain, though. The wind continued this morning and as I write this it is still roaring outside. But we decided nothing would deter us from enjoying our plan for the day. We were going to 8:30 Mass at St. Joseph's but had a little time so we went over to see the park beach. Yikes! We practically had to hold on to a tree not to be blown away. A gaggle of gulls were huddled in the sand mostly with heads tucked in.

At church there was no Mass, but a communion service being run by a lay woman. I give her credit; she did not play priest. She didn't wear an alb, did not stand behind the altar, and did not sit in the priest's chair. It was simple and dignified although the congregation became a social club after the service. Doesn't anybody believe in reverence in Church or consideration for those praying? Fr. Groschel says folks should tell people to "shut up" but we just knelt and prayed since we were guests in their parish. It's a beautiful church with some lovely statues and mosaic work. Unfortunately, the large crucifix is mounted on the side instead of hanging over the altar, although there is a stained glass window in the sanctuary that depicts the crucifixion. Father will be back tomorrow and we'll attend Mass then.

After breakfast we drove down to the ferry and decided to go as foot passengers and skip the extra fee for the car since we wanted to bike on the island. The waves were monstrous and the 20 minute ride was a bucking bronco adventure. We met Bob in the passenger room. He has a house on the island and a farm on the mainland and travels back and forth. He showed us on our map the best things to do. He also warned us that if the wind continued and shifted to the east the ferry might be cancelled and we could be stranded on the island. Apparently when the waves hit the ferry from the side it can be a dangerous journey. Fortunately, the weather calmed a bit and our ride back was actually less pitching than the ride over. One of the funniest things about the ferry ride back was that two of the workers must have been identical twins. When we saw them together we did a double take!

The ferry landing doesn't have a bike rental so we started to walk into the little town, but a nice man offered us a ride in his golf cart. We keep meeting nice people who volunteer to help us. It must be the intercession of our guardian angels and the three saints we asked to be special helpers on this trip: St. Joseph, St. Benedict, and St. Michael.

At the bike rental I got a pink, really pink, bike. (You would love it, Little Foo!) We peddled around the western perimeter of the island passing charming Victorian homes decorated with plenty of "gingerbread." Some were as colorful as garden flowers. Along the shore we saw cormorants resting on some rocks and a flock of gulls.

When we got to the state park, we stopped to look at the glacial grooves. Some fascinating interpretive stations described the theory of how the grooves formed. No one knows for sure, but the theory is that as the glaciers moved and miles of snow packed on, the snow at the bottom became ice and moved slower than the snow on top. It grooved the limestone as it moved and bits of rock and clay etched out ridges. In some places there are signs that flowing water formed channels and created humps. It was a fascinating stop. From there we rode over to the state park and biked through the campground. We decided it would be a great place to come back to with grandkids.

Near the park was a cemetery so we stopped to pray for the dead. The oldest gravesite I saw was a woman born in the 1700s. There were many from the 1800s. American flags flew at all the graves of vets. Among the marked graves were those for soldiers who served during the Civil War. The saddest grave I noticed was for a little girl named Laura who was 12 yrs., 1 month, and 8 days old. That poignant remembrance made me tear up thinking how painful the loss must have been to her family. So many little ones died in those days before penicillin.

A few places on our bike ride we headed into the wind. Wow! It was hard to make progress. I was thinking what fun it would be for a kid to have a skateboard and a sail. He could go for miles with little effort from all that wind energy.

After returning the bikes where I stopped for a rest in the Papa Bear's chair, we lunched at The Pump across the street which had a sign saying, "Best perch on the island." Well, having nothing to compare it to, we can't testify to their claim, but we ordered the perch basket (basically fish and chips) and it was delicious with an unusual kind of tartar sauce that complimented it well. Yum!

Our ferry ride back gave us a good view of the Cedar Point skyline although it was pretty far away. I love ferries and they may be the closest I ever get to a cruise since I don't like the idea of being out in the middle of the ocean with no choice about getting off. We rode on the outside top deck. The windw asn't quite so wild and the ride was delightful. It wasn't far from the ferry landing to Marblehead Lighthouse which you can see on the right in the picture of Cedar Point. Unfortunately, it's closed for the season. I would have liked to climb and check out the view. But we had an enjoyable time walking around and I got a good photo of the amusement park (much closer than from the ferry).

We finished our afternoon with a ride out to Catawba State Park which turned out to be little more than a boat launch and a picnic area, but it was a pleasant place to sit for awhile and watch the sun peaking through the clouds to set diamonds dancing on the lake. It was the first time all day that I was warm enough to take off my jacket and soak up some rays. We skipped a few rocks and said our rosary before heading back to our campsite for the first campfire of our trip and hamburgers cooked over it for that smoky flavor. As for our stowaway -- we've seen no sign of him at all, so perhaps he's moved on to greener pastures. I hope!

We're Off!

2011-09-05T18:33:00.000-07:00

The alarm went off at 6:30 this morning. Is that any way to start a vacation? We loaded up the food for the refrigerator which we'll fill when we stop tonight and all the odds and ends we forgot to put in the camper earlier. Everything went into the back of the car and we set off only a few minutes later than our planned schedule waving a fond farewell to Camp Kreitzer. It was a misty morning with a pearly sky and interesting cloud cover broken here and there to let the light through -- lovely.

We arrived on time for 8:30 Mass in Winchester at Sacred Heart, which was celebrated very reverently by the pastor, Fr. Kemper, who used to be our parochial vicar 20 or more years ago at St. Louis parish in Alexandria. He's been pastor at Sacred Heart for a long time and, if attendance at daily Mass is any judge, the parish is thriving.

The first senior moment of the trip came shortly after Mass as Larry missed our turn toward Berkeley Springs, a route we've taken many times. I was looking at the I-pad so I was no help and when he "woke up" about ten miles later realizing he'd goofed, we didn't want to turn back. So instead of the relative bee-line to the PA turnpike, we meandered through the by-ways and backwaters of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania to connect up with the turnpike at Somerset. Larry was frustrated, but I was tickled pink. I hate the Interstates and we had a lovely ride through little towns and past fields of flowers and meadows with browsing cows and horses. We saw a train, a barn painted on one side with an American flag, four wild turkeys strutting in a front yard, farms with tall silos, several houses with dozens of solar panels in the yard, and some charming gardens. We passed through one gloomy secion of narrow road with trees making a tunnel that set me thinking about the Legend of Sleepy Hollow and watching for the headless horseman. When we hit the turnpike it started raining and we had some nervewracking stretches with the wipers on full tilt. We arrived in Monroeville to meet friends for lunch only about 45 minutes later than our original plan and the detour was well worth it.

Is there anything more delightful than catching up with old friends - especially friends of the heart? Jenny and I used to pray and sidewalk counsel together at an abortion mill on Duke St. in Alexandria. We enjoyed lunch at Red Lobster while catching up on all the doings of our kids. We heard all about a year-long trip one of their children took with his family as full-time RV-ers. They sold their house at the top of the housing bubble and with the profits and their savings they bought an Airstream, set off to see the country, homeschooled their children enroute, and had a wonderful adventure! Wow!

Before we left, Bert and Jenny took us out to their car and presented us with a treat: a container of soup and a loaf of bread from Panera Pread and a bottle of Pennsylvania wine. It reminded me of the scene in It's a Wonderful Life.

It was hard to say good-bye knowing it will probably be years before we're able to connect up with these dear friends again. Hugs all around and back on the road.

Four more hours and we arrived at our first campground, East Harbor State Park in Marblehead, Ohio on Lake Erie. When we opened the camper we found evidence of a stowaway.

To be continued....

Join the Adventure

2011-09-04T10:23:00.000-07:00

It may not be April, the time Chaucer's pilgrims began their journey to St. Thomas a Becket's shrine in Canterbury, but we are off on our own pilgrimage/adventure tomorrow as we begin our cross-country trip. We've closed the pool, enthroned the Sacred and Immaculate Hearts in the camper, packed our clothes and filled the pantry, downloaded the computer with a travel card, checked the car's fluids for high elevations, borrowed an i-pad, and instructed the house sitters. Whew!

Since all good things begin in the name of the Father, our first stop is 8:30 Mass at Sacred Heart in Winchester tomorrow, then off to Pittsburgh to meet friends for lunch. Then on to our first camping spot in Marblehead, Ohio. We will probably start off in the rain, a baptism for our trip, but Ohio is supposed to be sunny and, if the ten day forecast is accurate we will only see a few clouds between here and Champion, WI. There we will visit the shrine of Our Lady of Good Help, the only approved apparition site in the U.S. You'll just have to wait and visit the blog to see what happens next.

We hope to attend Mass in many places and have as many stories to tell as Chaucer's pilgrims. And we will take along our family and friends spiritually as our Yukon and our Trailmanor become our little church on wheels. Please pray for us as we travel as we will pray for all of you at home.

More Photos from the Fair

2011-09-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

Am I big enough to ride the merry-go-round alone, Paka?

No, and you aren't big enough for the bee. He flies too high.

But there are plenty of other fun rides!

And you can ride the ferris wheel with Gramma. It's not scary!

And what a view!

Farmer Paka and Little Moo agree -- The fair is moo-velous!

A Fair and Fun Day!

2011-08-30T19:47:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite events of the summer is the Shenandoah County Fair. We took our little granddaughter today and had loads of fun!

First stop: the petting zoo to make new friends -- a handful of food helps

Next stop -- the camel ring for a ride on a very tall and handsome bactrian camel (two humps).

Then we went to the animal barns to see the cows, sheep, goats, and "pink piggies," M's favorites. She got to see quite a few since the mama pig had ten little piglets, all pink.

I enjoyed seeing the cows lined up at the outside shower waiting for their turn to be beautified for the judging.

We checked out the arena, but no judging was going on so we took a lunch break before the midway opened.

Ice cream for dessert -- best buy at the fair -- $1 for one huge scoop and $1.50 for two.

Lunch over, time for the highlight of every fair -- the Midway.

We were in line for tickets when a kind man came and gave us a bunch so we didn't have to buy any. It was enough for M. to have six rides including one with me on the ferris wheel. Her favorite was the swing so she did it twice.

We took a ride break to see the exhibits and the prize winners. My favorite was the second prize cake in the youth division. The kids' cakes were better than the adults.

We were hot and tired after a few more rides, so we left and came home to take a dip in the pool -- a great end to a fun day.

Luna Moth Visits Camp K

2011-08-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

Our daughter was painting some picture frames in the garage last week after dusk with the door open and the light on. Who should be attracted, but a Luna moth, one of the largest moths with a wing span of about 4 inches. They are considered common but are rarely seen because they only live a week as adults (long enough to mate). The children were fascinated by this beautiful lime-green creature. We couldn't coax him out of the garage that evening, but he made his exit the next morning. Hope he found a sweetie to create a new generation of little lunas.

New Baby Girl Arrives!

2011-08-25T04:23:00.000-07:00

Welcome, Baby B! Born August 24th

Before...

And After....

Camp Kreitzer Swimming Hole Gets a Facelift

2011-08-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

When we opened the pool this year we knew it was the time to replace the liner. It was coming away in all the corners and around the filter and the flow point. In May, after weeks of heavy rain, the water table was too high to do it. But after a dry six weeks of summer and after all our Texas campers headed home a week ago, it was time to get the project underway.

The pool people came last Monday and, in no time, the swimming hole was empty and dry. They returned the next day and in only a few hours they had the new liner in and the pool ready for filling. Twenty-two thousand, five hundred gallons later we are back in business with a water temp that started at a brisk 65 degrees.

The new liner is beautiful, as you can see. The darker color makes the pool look much bluer than the old pale liner and I really like the "pebble" look. We went in Saturday for the first time since replacement when the air temp was 90+ and the water temp was 78. It was hot so the water was really refreshing.

So Camp Kreitzer is ready for more visitors, but you better hurry because we'll be closing up soon.

The Joy of Being a Gramma

2011-08-04T19:29:00.000-07:00

One of my grandchildren just came up and asked me to come down and sing him a song. "You forgot to come down and sing to me last night," he said.

And that, friends, is the reason we fight so hard for the faith -- so there will be something left for our grandchildren. Ora et labora.

More Drama at Camp Kreitzer/Jurassic Park

2011-08-04T12:06:00.000-07:00

I have a window on the world of violence. My office overlooks our side yard which is a hunting ground for a hawk who apparently considers it his personal diner. Two times in the past week the vicious raptor stalked a poor innocent squirrel. The first time the intended lunch hunched on one side of an apple tree's trunk opposite his enemy. When the hawk flew around the tree, the squirrel ran around to the other side. Then he ran up the trunk into the full branches which made him much harder to get at. The hawk finally gave up and flew off.

A few days later, the hunter was back. This time he had the squirrel holed up in our peach tree which offers very little shelter. The squirrel came to the same conclusion and jumped off and ran over to the closest apple tree. The hawk went for him, but the squirrel won the race. At that point Larry went out to interrupt the natural order of things and chased the hawk away. Squirrel rescued! Why we want to rescue the rapacious birdfeeder pirate is beyond me. Just call us soft-hearted.

Meanwhile, enjoy this video of a squirrel with a death wish. When the hawk finishes eating the mouse, the squirrel is likely to be dessert.

Swim Lessons

2011-07-08T08:11:00.000-07:00

This week is swim lesson time for the youngest two grandkids at Camp Kreitzer. For more about the swim method go here.

Waiting for class to start.

Teacher explains that it's "One, two, three...under, bubbles, kick."

Now try it. Swim to the wall and reach up and hold on.

Next it's time to go down and get rings. "Good job! You got two rings."

In the deep end practice kicking to the wall, holding on, and then climbing out.

You can do it too, girl!

And off the diving board!

Popsicle rewards for a job well done.

Coming Soon: Baby B, our new little granddaughter

2011-07-03T08:10:00.000-07:00

Well, guess whose coming soon? Our latest grandbaby. We can't call these her "coming out" photos since she's still in. We'll call them her "Welcome to My World" pictures. Can't wait to hold and cuddle the newest Kreitzer grandbaby -- and they are all grand indeed from our oldest "sweet sixteen" to our youngest soon to be born. Let's hear it for grandchildren! Any caption suggestions? I've posted mine.

ZZZZZZZZ....

Why are you waking me up?

I hate this profile' don't take my picture.

This is my better side!

May I go back to my nap?

No? You really are annoying! Just wait...No sleep for you either!

The Texans Are Coming! The Texans Are Coming!

2011-06-30T14:29:00.000-07:00

Our Houston beau and belles are coming this weekend to stay for awhile. They are right on time to enjoy the Winchester 4th of July Fun Run and all the patriotic activities including the Woodstock fireworks, a display that rivals any we ever saw in Fairfax County.

So the past few days have been a flurry of activity as we make beds, clean the bathrooms, put out towels in a variety of colors so everybody can keep track of whose is whose, and, of course, filling up the granola jar and the alligator's belly with cookies. (Yes, I have an alligator cookie holder that says, "Mm-mmm, them are tasty cookies!" when you open his mouth.) I have instructions to have s'more fixins on hand for the campfires in the field and little cereals for breakfast. No doubt there will also be animal pancakes, popsicles by the pool, and lots of kid friendly meals.

This is an exciting time of year for us because we only see our Texas families about twice a year -- once when we visit there and once when they come to see us.

Our Austin family will arrive in August and I trust that there will be some overlap with Houston so we can get that one family picture of all of us together, which will be promptly out of date when Baby Bianca is born in September.

Family is what gives Larry and me so much hope for the future. I'm not sure who said it, but it is certainly true that babies are God's opinion that the world should go on. And we rejoice at each new precious little life. It means one more set of hands to raise up in praise of God and to throw rocks in the river. If you are passing Camp Kreitzer drop in and say hi. Maybe a mommy deer with a tiny fawn will be passing through or you can help us catch a groundhog or chase butterflies. There's never a dull moment here at Camp Kreitzer at the foot of the mountain in the Shenandoah Valley.

Is Camp Kreitzer a Mini Jurassic Park?

2011-06-22T09:52:00.000-07:00

I was sitting innocently at my computer when I saw violent nature in action even here at Camp Kreitzer. An Eastern Phoebe (also known as a gnat-catcher) landed on the hummingbird feeder. He was cocking his head and looking up and, I thought to myself, "how cute." Then he flew up and came back, landing on my other birdfeeder with a wriggling creature in his mouth. It was either a moth or a small butterfly. Well, he made short work of his "lunch." Someone should call PETA and demand that phoebes adopt a strict vegetarian diet to protect smaller species from their disgusting dietary habits. Don't let the innocent look of the phoebe fool you. He is a hungry predator who will eat you if he can.

Junior Cousins Camp

2011-06-17T10:29:00.000-07:00

Camp Kreitzer hosted its first "Cousins Camp" of the season with three little munchkins who were out of preschool before big brothers and sisters. It was a spontaneous event when we decided to bring two siblings home from my brother's fundraising event last Sunday. Their cousin asked if he could come too and there you have it -- Cousins Camp. It was just the right length for young ones to be away from Mom -- three nights and two days. That gave us time to swim, jump on the trampoline, play on the swing and teeter-totter, throw rocks in the river, walk across the "scary bridge," ride bikes (and trikes), have a "movie night" with Rikki Tikki Tavi and popcorn, eat popsicles, get a little local cousin to come join in the fun, take tractor rides, and have a campfire with hot dogs and s'mores. We went to Mass one morning followed by a visit to a local nursing home (and a trip to 7-11 for slurpies). We ended each day with a decade of the rosary and night prayers by candlelight and a bedside song with Gramma, a Camp Kreitzer tradition. Unfortunately, I didn't think about pictures at the campfire and some of the other fun events until they were over, so you'll just have to take it from me that everything was a big hit. The staff at Camp Kreitzer is looking forward to the next cousins camp of which we expect there will be plenty this summer!

Oh, those flying nags!

2011-06-13T20:19:00.000-07:00

As we travelled around the Outer Banks we noticed a number of horses with wings. Makes sense, eh -- "nags" in the area where flight began. I was intrigued so I took pictures of the horses whenever I saw them. I wonder how many there are? Meridian, Mississippi and Winchester, Virginia also have this sort of signature mascot. Winchester has giant apples and Meridian has carousel horses. I wonder how many town in the U.S. do this. It would make a great article in a travel magazine!

Here are some of the flying nags of Nags Head including one who appears to have lost his wings.

Life's a Beach -- Or Don't We Wish?

2011-06-10T09:53:00.000-07:00

Our trip to Kitty Hawk on the Outer Banks was so much fun. Let the pictures tell the story.

Our first stop is always Grandy's for peach flurries and some fresh produce. Marianna was taken with the pink flamingoes.

Our cottage was on Lindberg Ave. between the main drag and the beach road and a short walk to the beach access. The front porch swing was a favorite spot for morning coffee and just hanging out.

The beach was perfect for watching the waves....

Burying Paka in the sand....

And feeding the seagulls.

Our landmark for walking up and down the beach was the pink (really pink) house.

We hated to see the sun set on our last evening as we rode our bikes along the sound trail the eight miles back to the bike rental shop. What a great vacation!

#1 on the "You Can Never Have Too Many" List

2011-06-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Here are ten items from my "You Can Never Have Too Many" list:

flowers
birds (except grackles and starlings)
fresh peaches
days at the beach
real friends (as compared to thousands of so-called "friends" on Facebook)
nights watching fireworks
good books
waterfall hikes
peanut butter taffy

But the top item on the list has to be grandbabies. And here's our number 20 -- every bit as special as the first, and second, and third, and fourth.....

Who or what's on your list?

Definitely the Most Beautiful Waterfall Hike East of the Mississippi!

2011-05-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, what a hike! If you like waterfalls, Crabtree falls is the place to go. It's in Nelson County, Virginia not too far from Waynesboro and Charlettesville. The Falls are a 1200 foot vertical drop with five major cascades and a number of smaller ones. Larry and I went off on the outing with my sister Peggy and my brother's wife, Jessica. Neither of them had hiked much before so we suggested they get hiking poles and they were both glad they did even though the path is mostly wide and not too steep. It was still pretty strenuous on the way up with several places where you had to climb steep wooden stairs. But what a worth-it hike! I can't wait to go back again it was so incredibly beautiful. We hit the perfect time for the mountain laurel and rhododendron. What a sight!

Here's the first cascade at the bottom of the falls which is only about 500 feet from the parking lot at the end of a paved trail. This beautiful spot is accessible to anybody.

The trail from that point started sharply uphill but with gradual switchbacks -- not too bad even for non-hikers although I wouldn't want to do it in flipflops like one fella we saw. Here's another beautiful cascade farther along the trail.

The flowers were in spectacular full bloom. And we just had to stop and admire them everywhere we went.

You know what they say about stopping to smell the flowers. We got lots of opportunities!

And here's one of those staircases I was talking about although this wasn't the longest.

There were some great views of the mountains along the trail as well. What a spot -- a little bit of everything.

There were lots of places with little pools. Peggy and I stopped to cool off at one although we were careful to pick one nearer the bottom and not near a cascade. Twenty-three people have died at the falls climbing on the slippery rocks and falling. We had no intention of being one of those statistics.

Couldn't resist this spot for a photo-op, especially since we almost never get pictures of ourselves together since we generally hike by ourselves. It was great to have some extra photographers for the hike!

And here's a video of the top of the falls. We've had such a wet spring there was plenty of water pouring over. Waterfalls are always more fun to see when there's been plenty of rain and we've had (and still are having) more than our share.

Pack up your hiking boots and trecking poles and come join us on the trail. There are so many great places around here to explore. We promise you won't be disappointed.

How Observant are you? Camp Kreitzer's new look.

2011-05-17T09:05:00.000-07:00

Did you notice that I changed the picture of Camp Kreitzer? It needed an update since the front looks different. Larry cut the trees way back and I got sick of trimming the shrubs along the front walk and cut them all out. The circle garden is different too because the tree in the middle died at the top. I cut it down but then it grew back at the base so I kept it as a bush. And notice that we put wrought iron railings up for those who need a little help getting up the stairs. Lots of little changes add up to a new look. I also snapped the new photo on a gloomy day which is all we've had lately. Rain, rain, rain with a little intermittant sun now and then. Here's the old photo for comparison taken on a sunny day. I'll probably change the photo again when more flowers are blooming. I love Camp Kreitzer whatever the weather! Ya'all come see us.

Of Easter Eggs and Little Lambs

2011-05-15T14:33:00.000-07:00

Two Holy Saturday projects: coloring Easter Eggs and making the traditional lamb cake. First the eggs. Hmm...what color for this one? Pink? We colored the last one pink and the one before that and the one before that. Guess what color is the favorite?

Next comes the traditional lamb cake which I haven't made in a few years and almost forgot about until someone, I think Alice, mentioned it. Ah, yes...I can do that. First get out the lamb pan, the cake mix, the decorator tips and bags and then go to work.

Bake the cake and after it cools do a light frosting coat to reduce crumbs. Oops, no coconut to make the "grass" for the completed cake. No problem...sprinkles are good anywhere, anytime! And the lamb becomes the centrepiece for the Easter table.

And another little lamb dressed in her Easter finery.

Last Day of our visit on Spy Wednesday

2011-04-25T17:06:00.000-07:00

What better day to climb a firetower and play "I spy Gramma & Paka's house" than on Spy Wednesday. It's a quarter mile from the parking area to the tower but a lovely walk along a rocky path with rock steps. Here's our destination.

And our intrepid hikers.

Sean wasn't sure he wanted to climb up the tower. He started back down, but when I asked him if he was afraid his natural manly spirit took over and turned back around. This kid is fearless!

Here's everybody but our photographer.

And here's a portion of the famous "Seven Bends" of the Shenandoah River. Worth the walk and the climb. Brendan picked out our house which was clearly visible by its blue siding. In another month it will be much less visible behind all the greenery.

No matter how far out in the country you are or how far off in the woods, the barbarians can always find you and leave their mark. They usually leave plenty of trash behind as well. Pray for the barbarians; they know not what they do. Wonder how much bench time in Purgatory is associated with mindless vandalism.