Homeward Bound

We finish our vacation back in Frankenmuth, Michigan - treating ourselves to a night in a real bed before we head to Burlington. We have a lovely deck overlooking the river again and sleep like logs. There is a large mirror in the room - yikes! My eyebrows are scary, my legs and arms are dotted with the tracks of those nasty mosquitoes, my pedicure polish is chipping off and I am having a hard time finding clean clothes to wear. I guess it is time to go home! The van is still leaking oil, so every so often Rip checks the level and adds more juice. The Westy thinks it is time to go home too! We are grateful for this time to experience so many amazing moments and sights, and God's creation never seemed quite as spectacular. We resound with so many others that it is good to go away, but also very good to go home. We are a couple of days ahead of schedule so I think of the delicious thought of relaxing for a day and just staying home to unpack, do laundry and organize. Yes, indeed, there's no place like home!

Orange Is The New Black

It is chilling in the mornings so I am wearing my warm, orange sweater to prepare to leave at 7 am or earlier. Orange is a good colour for mornings - bright and ready to pop your eyeballs open just a little wider. On the other hand, orange is a sign of warning - pay attention! We are heading across the US on highway 2 - a small mostly 2 land road through some really interesting towns. It is fast through Montana and North Dakota, but when we get to Minnesota and Wisconsin things slow down. There are big orange signs with "Road Work Ahead" or "Right Lane Closed Ahead" or "Detour; Road Closed". In Ironwood, we have to go on a big detour that takes us through town and back to hwy 2 which takes about 25 minutes. You can't be in a hurry when it comes to road work, and I begin to groan when I spot a big orange sign in the distance. Orange is the new black! I am reading the book by this name by Piper Kerman. It is a memoir - the story of the year she spent in a women's prison, in Danbury, Connecticut. With a university degree, a good career, a fiancé and a loving family, Piper is 10 years beyond her experience with a woman who convinced her to smuggle drugs and who when caught years later gave Piper's name as one who was involved as well. She meets women from all walks of life, all dressed in prison orange and her story offers a real and rare look into life in prison. Orange is the new black - it's the orange I look forward to each night before turning out the light.

Stagecoach Stops

We are travelling across the state of Montana on highway 2, a two lane, perfectly paved and flat highway that follows the railroad. We see lots of trains and they are long ones mostly 100 cars or more, mostly hauling oil. Little two bit towns dot the highway; almost all of them have a Stagecoach Gas Station and a Lucky Lil’s Casino attached. The buildings are small and old and there are lots of weathered outhouses with the sliver moons and stars on the door! Most of the motels are closed down; you get the impression these towns were happening places “back in the day” but with all the abandoned farms and houses lots of people have moved into bigger places for more amenities and jobs. The towns feature signs inviting truckers to stop for a rest, a coffee or a shower. These Stagecoach towns are right out of the old western movies complete with the characters that you see ambling down the main street to check out the latest gossip. On to North Dakota – the clock goes forward 1 hour now so we keep motoring until the next Stagecoach Stop that calls our name. The weather is perfect and visibility is remarkable; we get out of the van a couple of times just to take it all in.

Looking For Tuesday On Monday!

We arrive in Minot, North Dakota. It is getting late so we found a campground with a parking spot by the river. Rip checks us in and ask the owners where to eat. They tell him about a place that has “the best chicken in the world”. My mind imagines a tasty Swiss Chalet kind of chicken only better with a nice salad. We have had 5 “van” meals by now; last night it was a take-out salad and some devilled eggs from the Flying J Gas Station. We ate it in the van to the musical buzz of those mosquitoes I chatted about earlier. I am hoping for a different kind of experience tonight. Rip kind of gets the directions and after a couple of twists and turns we find a shopping plaza. I say – “I don’t see a restaurant”. He says, it is called the Market Place. It is a grocery store. He goes in to buy some of the chicken. I am skeptical and suggest that perhaps he can try the chicken and then we go somewhere else. He opens the chicken and pulls out one piece; it looks a bit like Kentucky Fried. Underneath the piece is a pool of greasy oil; even he is not impressed. We ask if there is a Ruby Tuesday in town. There is! We like Ruby Tuesday because they have a delicious salad bar with lots of different greens, veggies, toppings, various other salads, etc. We wind our way in and out of streets; waiting for a train to pass (they are long in these parts!), getting lost then finding the road only to be going the wrong way. Finally we turn around – it just must be really hard to find a Tuesday on a Monday! .

Stagecoach Stops

We are travelling across the state of Montana on highway 2, a two lane, perfectly paved and flat highway that follows the railroad. We see lots of trains and they are long ones mostly 100 cars or more, mostly hauling oil. Little two bit towns dot the highway; almost all of them have a Stagecoach Gas Station and a Lucky Lil’s Casino attached. The buildings are small and old and there are lots of weathered outhouses with the sliver moons and stars on the door! Most of the motels are closed down; you get the impression these towns were happening places “back in the day” but with all the abandoned farms and houses lots of people have moved into bigger places for more amenities and jobs. The towns feature signs inviting truckers to stop for a rest, a coffee or a shower. These Stagecoach towns are right out of the old western movies complete with the characters that you see ambling down the main street to check out the latest gossip. On to North Dakota – the clock goes forward 1 hour now so we keep motoring until the next Stagecoach Stop that calls our name. The weather is perfect and visibility is remarkable; we get out of the van a couple of times just to take it all in.

Dancing Through Montana

We are driving toward Montana from Alberta. The land is flat and the road is straight. We are on cruise control and if there was a “steering control” you could set it and just let it ride. “I can see for miles and miles”; the song comes to mind here. There are a few oil drills and not much else. The tall grasses on the plains are dancing in the wind; it looks like a big green sea with little white caps rippling for miles; it is quite amazing. We stop at a gas station (warning: next gas service 133 km – we have learned!). It is so remote here that big signs say “you must give your driver’s license to the cashier before filling up”!!! That’s a new one! I guess with no one else around some folks have filled up and taken off into the sunset. We are approaching Milk River, Alberta where we will cross into Sweet Grass, Montana. Do you get the picture?? Yes, the river looks like a pale chocolate milk and we cross it several times as we travel. We stop at the Duty Free and the 2 bored-looking clerks are sitting outside at a picnic table putting in time in case they get a customer. We are the only ones around! The line up at the border crossing is unusually hectic – there is 1 car in front of us! Ha! As we approach Shelby, Montana we find a municipal park with camping spaces and washrooms. I get out of the car to pick up the envelope for the whopping $10 charge for the night – and I start dancing. Mosquitoes swarm me from head to toe! I shut the door fast and for the next hour we are on the hunt for the little beggars. We are both dancing the “bug jig” now. During the night the van starts dancing – there is a wild wind storm with rain and you can feel the vehicle rocking. It was quite the production. In the morning I decide to have a shower which was wonderful. Lots of hot water and clean washrooms. But I am in for another dance. As I start brushing my teeth the army of nasties starts again. I do a dance called “kick, kick, brush, brush, kick, kick, brush, brush” as fast as I can and get out of there. We have been dancing since we arrived in Shelby, and our last dance put us back on the road early – I carry the “After Bite” in the glove box now. The Itch Dance is the worst on of all

Give Me Oil In My Lamp!

As we pack up from our hotel after "the kids" go to the airport, I am looking up a church to visit this morning in Calgary. Then Rip tells me that the van is leaking oil and we may not be going anywhere. We find a deserted parking lot; he gets under the van lying on a Thermorest pad. Instead of going to church I sing to myself, "Give Me Oil In My Lamp" - what can you do? We finally leave - there is still a small leak; we find a Canadian Tire to buy some oil. We are off to Black Diamond to visit Corey and Cheyanne and family. Praying for oil in our lamp all the way!