Our Big Trip- Back to Reality:

About Our Big Trip West

We have received numerous inquiries about when we were heading west and if we could visit lots of folks again on our way back out. We said sure, then camoflauged the van with that angular armor and flat black paint they use on stealth bombers and drove only at night so we weren't spotted. In fact, while you are reading this we're already back in San Francisco and you all missed us BWAAA HA HA HA HA! Seriously, though, we only had the trailer for 11 days, and spent 2 of them loading it, and will spend another 2 unloading it, so we decided that we should just head back. Plus, a sense of reality has set in that was not heretofore present on Our Big Trip, and we are not feeling quite as care free as we were on our way east. In addition, it is possible that Beth will get a call at any time requiring that she show up for work in London in 2 weeks, so it seemed prudent to motivate. So, given our choice, we would have gladly visited everyone again, but it seemed difficult given our situation. You'll all just have to some visit us when we're settled.

Monday, March 1:

We bode farewell to Plato, which was quite heartbreaking because we're not too sure we'll see her again. She's not exactly peppy. But she has a good "retirement home" with Kirsten and Bob, and we are eternally grateful to them for providing it. Then we followed the sun. That's really just an expression- it means we drove west, towards where the sun was setting. Obviously, if we wanted to REALLY follow the sun, we'd have to drive so fast that the van could break the earthly hold of gravity. Plus, we'd have to remember to keep all the vents CLOSED or all of our oxygen would leak out and we'd asphyxiate or pop or whatever happens to humans in a vacuum. So we followed the sun in a more western movie sort of way. We hitched up our U-Haul trailer and got movin'. Boy, driving with a trailer is a bit different than driving without one. Our trailer is 6 feet wide and 12 feet long- big. And it's pretty well loaded up. We had a bunch of stuff in storage in NJ from when we originally moved to San Francisco, so we figured we'd consolidate. By the way, there is MORE than enough room to hang a bike rack off the back of a van while towing a trailer, despite what the U-Haul guy may say when you call him on the phone. We needed the biggest size they had anyway, so no biggie, really, but he said there would be 2 feet of clearance between the van and the trailer. It's actually about 6 feet. I'm not complaining, just trying to make you all more trailer-saavy. And boy, does that trailer make a difference driving. First of all it's heavy. You can see the extra work the engine has to do to get up hills and such. I'll get to the second reason tomorrow. After driving for a few hours, we stopped at The Emlenton Truck Plaza in Emlenton, PA. We stopped because we needed gas. We also stopped because there was a sign on the highway that claimed The Emlenton Truck Plaza served "the worst apple pie in the world." This sign really intrigued us. We had to find out what it was that made this pie so vile, so disgusting, so completely repulsive that it deserved the title of "worst."

Okay, secretly we were hoping it was just a clever marketing scheme and it was really the BEST pie in the world.

Sadly, it was neither.

Tuesday, March 2:

We arose and, after weighing our options, decided to get back in the van and drive again. We drove to where Routes 80 and 90 merge and took Rte 90. Now, the second reason that driving with a trailer is different than not driving with a trailer. It's expensive. We have to refuel about every 4 or 5 hours- and we have a 20 gallon tank. Plus, tolls are twice as much. Where it says "Cars- $2.00," we have to pay $4 or more! That's even true where you just pitch the coins into the little bucket so the gate goes up. I drove the van through one of those coin-toss things and this guy who was collecting money from the bucket thing was standing right by the bucket as I tossed my 40 cents.

COIN COLLECTOR GUY (reaching for his ticket writing pad): Whoa-ho-ho-ho-ho! You can't drive through here! You have to use the truck lane!

YHN (utterly shocked): Huh?

CCG (reaching for his stun gun): It's eighty cents if you got a trailer like that!

YHN: Oh. Um, okay. I think I've got some more change here.

CCG (reaching for his semi-automatic): If you try going through another one of the automatic lanes again, they'll give you a $75 ticket!

YHN (signalling Beth to hold on): Yeah? Well, I've already gone through roughly 6 of these things without paying my extra forty cents every time and just see if you can stop me, pig (knowing that the license plate on the U-Haul van was all he'd get, and we could ditch it and just make a run for it is the van)!

Then I squealed the tires and fishtailed out of there.

No, I jest. I paid the extra forty cents, thanked him for keeping me informed about toll road policy in the state and wished him a good evening.

Now, the real reason we turned onto Rte. 90. We were hungry. So we wound our way through Downtown Chicago to Wells Street, where Gino's is located. We picked up one of their famous dep-dish pies and ate it in a bank parking lot in a suburb just west of the city. We had to do this because there was no way I was going to find somewhere to park our now-35-foot-long behemoth in the center of the city without attracting hordes of salivating metermaids.

Wednesday, March 3:

We continued west and spent the night in Mitchell, but not before a gasoline scare. Earlier in the update I whined about how much gas we were using up. One of the difficulties in not really knowing how far we get per gallon (because even slight upgrades really take their toll) is that we aren't ever really sure how far we can get on the amount of gas we have. So, when we were about at 1/4 tank, I started looking for a place to fill up, which in South Dakota can be a challenging task. I turned off at an exit for a town called Montrose, because there was one of those little gas pump signs under the exit sign. After driving for about 10 miles, we found the "gas station." It consisted of one pump on the corner of a dirt lot and was, of course, closed for the night. It was the kind of gas station where during the day there would be a frail-looking elderly man sitting on an upside down bushel basket spitting tobacco juice and whittling. The odds that his name would be Elmer would be better than 70%. Charming, indeed, during the daylight when Elmer had plenty of gas to dole out, but rather unsettling at night when you're mightly low on gas and haven't the foggiest idea when the next opportunity to fill up will occur. We then proceeded to get lost in Montrose. By the time we got back on the highway, we were pretty anxious (by "we," I mean your humble narrator- Beth seldom gets anxious except when she can't get through to TicketMaster to purchase Springsteen tickets). So I kept it at 50 mph and hoped we'd find a gas station. Then the low gas light went on. Just as I was about to give up hope, we saw the glorious sight of a TA Truck Stop illuminating the horizon. It was as wecome a sight as the lights of Miami would be to a shipwrecked captain floating in The Gulf Stream being circled by Gray Reef Sharks. Disaster narrowly averted, to be sure.

Thursday, March 4:

Today we continued west on Rte. 90 through South Dakota. Now came the whole reason for Our Big Detour on Rte. 90 when Rte. 80 would have gotten us back to San Francisco much more quickly. Well, the first part of the reason. At exit 131 on Rte. 90 is the entrance into Badlands National Park, one of the places we intended to visit when we were out here in August, but chose to hit a deer instead. There is a 30-mile loop that runs through the park then rejoins Rte. 90 20 miles further west. So we took it. I'll tell you, if you ever want to visit a national park without a large crowd, try a national park in South Dakota in the winter ! We had the whole place to ourselves. The Badlands look like a miniature mountain range, with "mountains" from 50 to maybe 250 feet high. All of these "mountains" are made entirely of dirt. The Badlands represent a 60-mile long stretch of this "mountain range" which early settlers had to cross to get into the Dakotas. Frankly, I think they should have just turned around and made for San Diego, but I wasn't there. During rainstorms, the hills became almost impossible to get over, hence their name. The badlands retreat constantly, ever changing the boundaries of the range. This is because rainfall comes in such heavy doses that plants never get a chance to build large enough roots to keep from being washed away. So the Badlands continue to migrate north. We then headed for Keystone, where Mt. Rushmore (another reason for our otherwise unreasonable detour). We got there late and stayed in the only hotel open and ate at The Rushmore Supper Club, the only restaurant open. I, ever the adventurer, decided to try the local cuisine- tatanka. That's right. Buffalo, bison, call it what you like. I ate it. Now, I don't want to offend any of our vegetarian readers too much, so I won't dwell on it. But it tasted just like baby Siberian Tiger.

Friday, March 5:

Today we had quite a sightseeing day. We awoke in the shadow of Mt. Rushmore, so we decided to stop in. Again, we were basically the only people there. The most intriguing fact about it, to me, was that no one died hanging off the side of the mountain drilling and dynamiting. The rangers there said that about a dozen men who assisted in the construction are still alive, and one of them lives right in Keystone and comes in from time to time to regale anyone who will listen with tales of his mountain sculpting. We then drove the 20 miles or so to Crazy Horse Mountain. This monument, we learned, has been under construction since 1949. Korczak Ziolkowski, the sculpter who first decided to create the monument, began with $174 dollars and a tent to live in. He toiled all by himself for 12 years, before donations started arriving which allowed him to hire people to help him and buy equipment to make the job easier. He twice refused offers of $10 million from the government, because he thought that if the monument became a federal project, there would come a time when money was scarce and the government would abandon it. He died in 1982, but today his wife and 7 of their 10 children work the mountain, along with as many workers as they have the budget to afford at any given time. The monument will someday be a huge Native American center, with a college, museums, cultural center and art gallery. The visitor center and a couple of the museums are currently open, and we had a great time visiting. As for the monument itself, no one is sure when it will be done, because no one knows how much money will be available to finish it. I took this picture while in one of the museums of a model of what the finished monument will look like backed by the actual monument in progress . While there, I recalled that in grade school I was assigned a biographical report on any Native American, and I chose Crazy Horse. I'll have to call my Mom. She probably still has it. Anyway, Crazy Horse epitomized the Native American spirit, and the Lakona (his tribe) elders enthusiastically blessed the project upon its proposal. I hate to be such an anti-American poopiehead whenever I write about our country's history, but our forefathers really did incredible injustices to the original owners. Imagine getting approved for a mortgage, putting 20% down, and showing up only to be arrested at your own house by a squad of agressive policemen and put in prison while your furniture is sold and the house razed to make room for a Starbucks. That kind of thing. All right, I'll shut up. If any of our readers have an extra couple of million bucks and are feeling somewhat generous, send 'em some dough. Our next stop was the moment we have both (and by "both" I heartily mean your humble narrator) have been waiting for...

...Carhenge.

Carhenge is located in Alliance, Nebraska, and was built in 1987 by Jim Reinders and some of his friends. It is a model of Stonehenge, the famous monolith located in England. It is alligned as the original is, according to the location of the sun at the Winter Equinox. There are 38 cars, as there are 38 stones left at the original site. The cars are as close to being the size of the original stones as a bunch of automobile corpses can be. Surprisingly, this is quite close. There are also cars located nearby that are automotive models of a covered wagon, cars painted in four shades representing "The Fourd Seasons," and a car that was for visitor's autographs. I autographed this one and we enjoyed the mystical atmosphere for a while before getting back in the van. Fortunately, we arrived just around sunset and were able to snap some mystical pictures . It was a rather somber moment, because we both realized that this was definitely the last pleasure stop on Our Big Trip. As we headed south on Rte. 385 to hop back on Rte. 80, we were treated to some memorable scenery. On our right was a beautiful sunset of orange and purple over snow-capped mountains. On our left was a full moon rising over the plains of southern Nebraska. Purple mountain majesties and amber waves of grain, sunset and moonrise. We just rode along in silence watching the sky darken and the moon brighten until it was night. I'll remember that ride for a long time. I didn't take any pictures because some things are just so beautiful that you can't fit them into a camera, no matter how big the lens. We then crashed in Laramie, Wy.

Saturday, March 6:

We woke up early in anticipation of a big day of driving. We were on the road by nine. Do you know those yellow signs that no one ever pays attention to on the side of the highway? Yellow is highway sign lanuage for "warning." Those signs frequently say things like "falling rock," "bridge freezes before road" or some other such thing that you barely notice as you drive by. I whizzed by a sign that said "high winds next 5 miles," with no compunctions whatsoever. Then we were almost blown off the road. Then the winds started blowing harder. Then we were almost blown off the road. Then we passed a tractor trailer that had been blown on it's side. Then we were almost blown off the road. Then the winds got really bad and started blowing snow across the highway. Then we were almost blown off the road. Then we passed a severe accident involving a car and a tractor trailer. Then we were almost blown off the road. Then we passed another sign that said "high winds next 5 miles. Then we were almost blown off the road. After passing two more overturned trucks and the visibility had been reduced to about thirty feet, I decided to take the next exit. We pulled off in Arlington, Wyoming, after traveling 24 miles in 1 hour. We pulled into The Arlington Convenience Store (C-Store), Towing Service, Repair Shop, Campground and Gas Station (all contained in one building and run by the inimitable Martha). There were a bunch of trucks and cars all lined up there, waiting out the storm. Martha said that the storm should clear by midnight (it was 10 a.m. at this time). So, as all the residents in southern Wyoming do in times of extreme weather, we hunkered down. We napped and read and relaxed. At around 6 p.m., the wind had definitely died down appreciably, and we decided to go for it. Since we had to be at our storage facility (which is accessible by invitation only) at 8 a.m. Monday morning, we figured we might as well just go for it. If we waited much longer, we would have hit the traffic heading from Lake Tahoe back into the Bay Area late Sunday afternoon. So we drove. Twenty hours of driving and seven hours of sleep between us later, we arrived in San Francisco. The next day included having to negotiate a big van with a big trailer through the busy San Francisco streets, unloading the van at Laura and Matthew Milner's house, unloading the trailer at our storage area, where we realized we had forgotten our list of stuff to get out of storage (no, I didn't find the screws for the van seat), returning the trailer to U-Haul (which included an INCREDIBLE job by your humble narrator of backing the trailer into a normal sized parking space between two other trailers- really- Beth was quite impressed) and cleaning the van from roof to tire so we could put it on the market. In that twenty-four hours we got really testy with one onother a number of times- we're exhausted and frazzled and nervous and tired of packing and unpacking. We really haven't had much time to be philosophical or maudlin about Our Big Trip and it's end. We figure that will come after we get settled into a routine again. Only then, we guess, will the implications of Our Big Trip and the lessons or perspectives we've gotten out of it come to light. So, our adventures (at least our adventures of Our Big Trip) have come to an end. Our adventures in the realm of getting back into the swing of life have only just begun. When we settle (wherever, whenever that may be), we'll send out another update to give y'all the scoop. Until then...

FOOD FOR DEEP THINKERS, FINAL INSTALLMENT: As I'm sure you are all aware, different colors represent different intensities of lightwaves. The colors of the rainbow, from lowest wavelength to highest, are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. Why is it that sunsets feature colors from the two ends of the spectrum, but not those in the middle? Sunsets are often red and orange and yellow and purple (I'm calling indigo and violet "purple,") but blue and green never show up. Sure, the sky looks blue, so any blue in a sunset would be hard to spot, but I still think that the middle of the color spectrum is completely absent. Why is this?

COMING NEXT: (It's now over a month since I wrote the above stuff, so here is what actually did come next). We are partly settled back in to San Francisco. We sold the van to a nice woman named Irene, who should be able to get some good use out of it. We are subletting a place until the end of May and subletting another until the end of the year, at which time we will decide what we'd like to do on a more permanent basis. YHN has a couple of guitar students and is working on getting more. I've also started playing in a folky/rocky band in the South Bay (which is anything south of San Francisco down to San Jose). Neither of Beth's two opportunities I vaguely mentioned earlier appear to be coming to fruition, so she is currently job hunting. We'll send out another update when we get more settled for certain. It's been strange having Our Big Trip end in fits and starts like it has- there really hasn't been a defining moment when we were traveling and then another when we were back in the real world. But it does feel somewhat sad typing these words, which will, with the exception of publishing the last FFDT results, be the last words I write about Our Big Trip. Thank you all for feeding us, housing us, caring about Plato's health and emailing us along the way. It has been fun traveling with you.