Watching Mount Humphreys Disappear

This is the last of the four trip home blogs. If you start with this one, you're working backwards. If you like them in order, start with "Vibrating".

*    *     *     *     *

On a clear-enough day, as you clear the slight rise in I-40 heading west near Winslow, AZ, you can begin to see Mount Humphreys separate itself from the horizon. It is also known as the San Francisco Peaks (no relation to California's city). The Navajo, or Dine as they prefer, refer to it as Doko'oosliid, or Abalone Shell Mountain. It is one of their four sacred mountains, the Mountain of the West. A volcano, it is generally considered dormant, having last erupted by blowing its top off about a thousand years ago. The highest natural point in Arizona, it commands the view in an area with little competition for the honor. The sight of it tells the traveler they are nearing Flagstaff.  The Snow Bowl at the top - or should I say in the top - provides winter recreation like skiing well after snow is gone elsewhere, in those parts where it even falls at all.

We have made a practice of looking for it from Winslow to its east, or during our northbound descent into Verde Valley. So heading home after our  summer break from the heat, we were somewhat reassured to see the shadow on the horizon as we cleared Winslow. Or so we thought. As we got closer, some clouds surrounded the area, and a split in one of them led Steve to comment it almost looked like the mountain was hiding behind it instead of where we'd been looking.

I safely pulled enough attention from the road to study the area he pointed out and finally decided he was correct! The shadow we'd been approaching should have been getting taller and more imposing, but stayed low on the horizon. Eventually we clearly saw the high slope of the north edge of the real mountain. Obviously, we concluded, the mountain was creating its own rain from pushing its cloud higher.

Logic demanded another evaluation of that assessment as we closed in. The clouds over the top were scattered, wispy, not rain-bearing clouds. But they - whatever they were - were closing back over the mountain. We were closer and they should have been getting thinner, the mountain more visible. Instead it slowly disappeared. Completely.

By Walnut Canyon there was a thin smokiness over everything. Trees were paler, as if standing in a light fog. In Arizona? It thickened as we closed in, and we concluded we were driving through smoke. Somewhere there was a fire, and it must be sizeable because the area its smoke covered was. In a few more miles we started smelling it and our eyes burned. We reached for the cough drops, and I started wondering if we were going to be detoured. If we stayed on the freeway, I was fine. A detour? That could be a problem, especially an unexpected one and poorly marked.

We made it to I-17, heading south. The thickest smoke was still to our west, so any possible detours would be further down the road. Our main road hazard was going to be road construction, not the construction itself but the idiots who sped up instead of slowing down just so they could get ahead of one or two more cars. The lower speed limit observed by vehicles in front of them was going to be the same, so I fail to understand the risk for a couple seconds "reward." Meanwhile there were breaks in the tall Ponderosa pines allowing us to see between them to the source of the fire,  for fire it definitely was. We passed closely enough to see billows of thick white with brownish thick centers, competing with each other for space to rise and spread, almost reminiscent of slow motion popcorn on a huge scale. 

Looking in the rear view mirrors gave us more of an idea of where smoke was heading, still reconfirming the peak was occluded. We resolved, once home, to research what was burning, and possibly why. TV news brought the information while we were unpacking. They've named it the Cecil fire, started by lightning. It's burning in Ponderosa pines and is currently being managed, aka allowed to burn, up to a certain size. It mainly will clear out excess fuel as if it were a controlled burn. When expected winds pick up later, it will be time to work on putting it out. Or that's the plan, anyway.

What I found oddest about it was, despite all the smoke we saw and its location, they announced most of the smoke was heading downhill, the opposite direction, into Oak Creek Canyon.

Don't breathe down there, all you tourists!

Cloud Watching Was The Fun Part. The Rest....

 The trip to Albuquerque was… ahhh... interesting. The “landing” even more so, interesting like in the Chinese curse.

The Weather forecast as seen on the TV before we left our last motel predicted storms, or at least rain from Albuquerque through Texas and  on into Mexico. Oh well, we’d collected enough bugs on the windshield before parking the night before that some rain combined with the new wiper blades sounded like a good thing. Clouds late in the day heading west also sounded like a bonus.

Tiredness has been building up a little each day, and today before noon I was ready for more coffee. Of course I’m still on Central time body-wise, so 4AM I’m alert despite what the clock says. Noon mean’s I’m dragging. Our route was fairly bare of open rest areas around then, and of course I’d passed a recent one I didn’t really quite need yet. When I finally, despite coffee, also needed a short nap- typical when I drive a long day- I'd barely laid my head down when the dog decided NOW! RIGHT NOW! NOT A SECOND LATER! Walking her of course meant I was wide awake again, as the walking area was nowhere delineated, just all the prohibited spots were. Those were everywhere anything green was visible. So we both got plenty of exercise. I'm beginning to get used to these new doggy poo bags. The others I've had all were an easy peel off the little roll and an easy tug on the perforated line to separate. These had a very well hidden perffed line so I always have to lick my fingers (still clean of course), rub both outsides of the bag to separate them, insert my hand and push to the bottom of the bag to even locate where the perffed area is. Then I can tear it off the roll, and even while my hand is still inside the bag, tuck the roll back together and stuff it into the little pouch which is velcroed onto her walking leash, before I can use it to pick up her piles. It has caused me in low light to have to search for where she actually went after that much delay At least I know it's within range of the leash and the general direction. I've never lost a "dump" yet.

Early in the afternoon the clouds started building, first big fluffy columns, topping off in huge spreading anvils, round and each covering large miles in area and growing as we watched. Unlike MN storm clouds, they weren’t breaking through their tops, just widening. No sooner would one form than another nearby one would, and as we drove we saw the next and the next. Soon one of the biggest “grew” a dark squared column from its bottom. Our next view of that one was a central few stripes of rain dropping, then some on one end while the central rain shower solidified and grew wide. More and more ribbons of rain dropped from it. Of course, since I was looking for a cleaner windshield, none of the rain was within 20 miles of our location, and 50 miles may well have been a reasonable guess. Distance is deceptive out here sometimes. More clouds were forming, all looking like the smooth underside of a mushroom cap with no stem. None of the others were raining as we watched, and well before we approached our motel all were to the east of us.

While checking in, the weather station was on the office TV. All the storms were starting east of Albuquerque and sliding off to the southeast. At least it made unloading the car simple. That may have been the best part of the night.

Once at the motel, I reminded our clerk we’d asked for a first floor room (no elevators here) if they didn’t have a handicapped one open. They didn’t. She checked her computer and announced she was giving us her last open first floor room! Say what? We just got lucky? Those requests on the phone don’t matter? (A later conversation over a different problem gave her the chance to explain that we got the last listed with our requested beds in it as well. By then I'd begun to think they knew it was so awful that they'd let it sit vacant since the last guest had it forced on them several weeks previously. Perhaps I'm giving them too much credit for sensitivity.)

At least the room had a parking spot right by the door. The key worked for Steve, and I started hauling stuff in. All of it. Not all in the car, just all we needed for the night, fell to me to haul in. Steve’s back has fallen victim to some road bumps on this trip so I’m the carrier person. Last motel had a cart so everything could be loaded and hauled in one trip. Not this one. Steve discovered immediately that there was one set-up of towels for the room. By set-up, they meant one bath towel and one hand towel. No washcloth, so the hand towel made a very bulky washcloth. He went to call the front desk only to find that the cord connecting phone to wall jack had been removed. I walked back to the office to let them know we couldn't call them and why, plus requesting that extra set of linens, but housekeeping hadn’t returned to drop off any by the time I got back to the room.

We also had no ice bucket, nor even ice as their machine was broken, no cups for water, no coffee pot set-up, no mini-fridge, no microwave, no tissues, no safety bars in the bathroom, no bath mat, no hand-held shower head, no shampoo. (I brought some of that.) I had to figure out the heating system because the room was freezing even though the day was quite warm and we’d had the AC on in the car since about 11. Fortunately the system was easy to figure out, a front wall model with individual controls rather than one in the ceiling which does what somebody else wants it to despite whatever one does with the controls. It had merely been set to AC for 60 degrees! I put that up to 72, switched to heat, and it immediately jumped to 84 so I had to bring it back down. Who’d set the thing so your two choices were 60 and 82? Steve just commented a few minutes later he wasn’t getting heat any more so I checked the unit out again. Its lights are all set correctly, and I can change the numbers to get it going again, but nope.  No heat or fan is functioning at the moment. Not any AC either, though we don't want any anyway. I only checked for informational purposes. Steve has sweats handy. I located a fleece shirt in the car, but either I didn’t pack sweat pants (I mean, why? Really? I have some in AZ but didn't anticipate a need for them during the trip, per forecasts) or just couldn’t find them in the car in the dark, without tearing it apart with people watching to see what it contained. It’ll be OK, I have extra socks and a cuddly dog. The beds are covered with three sheets each, the top one masquerading as a spread. Easier to launder, I suppose. Of course they are tucked so that when you pull it open to climb in, the bottom (flat) sheets come out from under the mattress as well.

We tried the water later for a little clean-up before bed. It isn’t hot, even after several minutes. No point wasting it further. It can't be just because everybody who’s not here used it all, can it? I tried to put the plug in the sink, but there wasn’t a plug. No internal stopper either, although the metal thing to lift/drop it was in its hole behind the faucet. Not attached to anything since I could lift it completely out. But it was there, faking it. I advised Steve when he washed his hands that he needed to be careful to keep his ring on.

 Oh yeah, by “everybody here” it turns out at nearly 9PM there are 5 cars in the parking lot, at least on this side. Our room is on the first of two floors, number 124, about halfway down. So, probably a hundred rooms? Taking the dog out revealed 6 vehicles on the front side. Unfortunately, there apparently haven’t been enough dogs through here to leave scent so she knows where to go. I’m beginning to sense a pattern here, doncha think?

Tonight was one of the days when we actually wanted to watch TV. AGT is on, the finals, and we’ve been watching all season. Once the channel was found - screwy remote/guide system - we got the program once it was time, but with volume loud enough to annoy people driving by! Eventually that was fixed, but not before the dog act finished with a loud soundtrack. Once volume was located, it led to locating mute to use during commercials. Yay! Something works! It's not all bad here.

It’s not like we can go online from the room. I can do plain word processing and once home, post these on my blog. Every few minutes a little window pops up covering my screen demanding I “join” for $4. It's not really an issue since I tend not to trust public access wi-fi for security, the reason I don't post till I'm home. Besides, if I posted this right as I write it, it'd be missing a lot of details about this "unique" (one hopes) room.

Meantime we've been in the room two hours, want to change out of street clothes, but are still waiting for housekeeping to show up with the towels first. Sure, we can hold off on that shower till tomorrow after we're home, but who's going to answer the door in a state of undress if somebody actually does show up?

Besides we can't actually lock the door  beyond closing it so it requires a key card. No chain, though the holes from a previous one are in the wall. We can't keep housekeeping out. On the flip side we can't use our own card to get back in, so somebody has to stay behind (Steve of course: I'm more mobile) if the other one goes out. Our key only worked that first time. That  seems to be a thing here too. While I was checking in earlier, the fellow from the adjoining room came into the office to complain about his key not working except for the first time too. He was advised to use both his keys together, both pushing an and pulling out simultaneously. What the...?  As I was unloading the car he was outside their room talking with housekeeping, then left. I don't know if they came back. Anyway his solution wouldn't have worked for us because we only were given one key. Yes, she knew there were two of us. After all, our room needed two beds. It's not like the dog gets her own.

But hey, we're going to sleep just fine, snug and secure whether we actually are or not, right? And truth be told, there are actually some good things about this room. The TV actually does work just fine, particularly after one figures out the volume control. The floor is solid, so long as you can ignore the plethora of black gouges dug out of whatever the flooring is all over it. Do realize a few steps on it rends the bottom of one's feet solid black, ready for instant transfer to the formerly white sheets. The mirror works, no caveats there. So do the lights. The beds are the good old-fashioned kind so one can sit up and one's feet are on the floor, not ten inches off it so you have to slide off. There actually is a chair, a kind of molded fake wood on apparently sturdy metal tube legs, guaranteed to securely hold an average ten-year-old. We declined to test it's capacity to hold Steve, for example, putting a carry-on in it instead. There was no luggage rack for one thing, no dresser but a couple sets of small shelves sticking out of the wall to hold shoes or similar, no place to hang a coat or hangers for whatever. Each bed had one of those horizontal shelves next to it for, say, cell phones and car keys.

3:21 AM. We’re both awake. The room is a pleasant temperature. I’ve heard the heat come on at least once, lasting for about 45 seconds. In between something drips. Loudly. It seems to come from that side of the room, so I got up to see if it had been raining and we had a leak. The parking lot is dry. Neighbors are outside talking. Yes we can hear them, even though they’re not being loud. We can also hear the freeway traffic, separated as we are from it by a chain link fence. The drip might be coming from the AC/heater, but I see no evidence of it on the floor. No sounds from next door, so it seems they didn’t come back or at least got a different room. I guess it depends on whether they were smart? They seemed young and sturdy enough that their excuse for staying put wouldn’t have been like ours and trying to avoid reloading/unloading the car in such a short amount of time to head down the road. My shoulders already ache enough from the first batch of trips from the car. Arthritis is a bitch.

Steve turned on the TV to the weather channel, quietly. Somebody may actually be sleeping, after all, despite the evidence. it’s going to be 105 today in Phoenix. Glad the car AC works. We should be there early enough for the house to cool down before bed. Before we leave we turn off nearly everything at the circuit breaker box, then put a padlock on it. Yes, it’s been needed, ‘nuff said. We also this time requested a “hard shut down” from the gas company after last year’s snafu. Last year’s failure to do so caused billing problems for months, and rose its ugly head again last spring. The water will be hot enough for late day showers since the pipe runs through the attic so long as we take short ones and space them out. I’ll have them come back to turn the gas back on in a week or so. We can microwave food for a bit until we get the stove/oven back on, or grill out back. The dishwasher heats itself electrically during the cycle. So no hurry.

Maybe I’ll try to lie down again for a bit. We can’t get breakfast/coffee until 6:30. (Turned out later we were wrong: 24 hour drive through.) At least the McDonalds is just a block away. We need to get Steve some tea there too. He's got his travel mug, but no ice to go with his tea, of which we still have plenty in the car. There was a bit left over when he woke up so he decided to finish it before packing up. Without ice or a mini-fridge, nothing would be cold until we shopped. Unfortunately, his first sip of tea got spat across the room! He thought there was a cockroach inside. He was ready to point it out to me on the floor after squishing, but I was busy for a moment, so he went to dump the dregs into the sink to rinse it out for packing away. In the process, he discovered his count was off: there had been two!

*    *    *    *    *

Before proofing and posting this, now that we're home and somewhat unpacked, taking a break, I looked at my email. It seems that last motel wants me to give them a rating. Was everything all right? What do you think? How about just a link to this? By the way, our motel was a Motel 6 in Albuquerque, on Coors Road, west a bit from where I-25 crosses I-40. Plan your Albuquerque stop wisely.

Are You Folks OK?

The question jolted me away from what was about a ten minutes nap. Yesterday's 700 miles had been grueling and I found myself getting sleepy with no roadside rest area expected soon. I’d taken the next exit and pulled over onto the ramp shoulder, shut the car down, and asked Steve to wake me in a half hour. That usually does the trick for me in bringing back full alertness for several more hours driving. After two million career miles under my belt, I've gotten a good feel for what works.

My opening eyes caught the blue flashing lights on the car parked immediately behind us. Oh oh! Were we in trouble? The answer was clearly a maybe. I quickly rolled my window down and explained I’d been getting sleepy and decided to pull over for safety.

We didn’t get a name, but Steve says his badge said Chief Deputy and the car said Sheriff. We could assume power and experience then, not some hot-shot rookie scared of a shadow. He explained the he appreciated our being safe but the shoulder of the exit ramp was an illegal parking spot.

Really? Most of the morning already every freeway exit and entrance ramp's shoulders had been completely lined with semis.  We also saw them partly blocking roadside rest access to/from the freeway as well. I wasn’t going to argue, however. He continued informing us they’d been having a lot of problems recently with people leaving behind their trash along the road. As he spoke I looked ahead of us and saw three different sets of piles of trash bags, one set sitting right under - you guessed it - a clear no parking sign.

I immediately apologized, letting him know that now that I was fully awake (cops can do that to you) I could clearly see the sign I’d missed earlier.

He, in turn, pointed down the road heading into the town the exit was for, suggesting we follow the path of a car currently driving along it. When the car reached a stop sign, he pointed out the park just at that turn, suggesting we could head there, find some shade, and continue resting until ready to drive again. So we left, and noted he turned and went a different direction. No checking up on us then. Steve and I looked at each other and agreed he'd likely already done his checking from our license plate before approaching the car. Wouldn't anybody these days?

It was a very nice park, a currently unoccupied pavilion in a wide expanse of grass, some historical markers along the drive in with a huge parking lot behind them. Best of all was a small lake or large pond, depending on how you categorize them. Minnesotans would call it a pond, but then they're blessed with an abundance and can be fussy about such things. There was a drive along the far side of it marked “Dead End”, with  couple cars on it, and somebody fishing off one of several short docks stretching out over the water. Trees did indeed give some lovely shade so we headed there.

Just after reaching the road I stopped dead. No, this wasn’t a spot to nap. The water was full of ducks on our end, and was that a heron? Sure was! In the time it took to identify the heron as such and not what I first thought was a piece of driftwood sticking up out of the water, still as it had been while waiting for breakfast to swim by, a couple pairs of geese added to the crowd. Yep, camera time! For both of us, actually, since Steve decided he could use some practice for the critters we hoped to see later in the day. After a couple shots where the heron was still a black shadow, I moved the car about 90 degrees around the lake and sun gave the heron some actual color. We watched it hunt for several minutes, moving here and there and getting different colors and textures in the water background in our pictures.

There was no more napping. After that little bonus, plus just a touch of adrenaline topping off my earlier catnap, who needed sleep? 

Vibrating

Editorial note: these have been written while traveling, but not posted until home and using our own wi-fi. So this, like all, is a few days later than the events described. We are indeed home, safe, and in various stages of exhaustion. I will post daily until what has been written is posted, and in the order life happened.

 *    *    *    *    *

There is a state of… of what? Being? Exhaustion? Abuse? However one wants to name it, it is a state where it feels like every single cell of the body is vibrating. It’s something less than a tingle, nothing painful, but one cannot take their attention away from it. It is demanding. It screams, “Stop! Quit pushing! As quickly as you can, under the circumstances, get some sleep. Not a catnap, but hours of it, and not soon, but NOW!”

We hit the road, in the dark and rain, just before 6AM. While the car had been packed except for those very last minute items like those in the fridge, the previous night before the rain hit, I still woke up around 2AM. And again around 3:45. Hmmm, typical me the night before traveling. Could there possibly be something on TV to draw the mind enough to get another hour’s sleep? The short answer of course is NO. We have satellite feed so we can record what we want while we’re doing whatever else, then watch later and skip commercials. At 4AM the only things on are commercials! Hour long ones! Even PBS, with 4 channels available in MN near the metro, falls victim to the “nobody watches good stuff this early so we might as well sell something” mindset.

Oh well, there was a kitchen full of dirty dishes. I might as well be useful, right? Feed the dog, pack up her food and dishes, get dressed, fold blankets, and stay fairly quiet so Steve and Paul could sleep a bit longer. It was Saturday so I’d asked Paul the night before if it was OK to wake him “something before 6 AM” to say goodbye. He’d said yes but he didn’t mean this early. Anyway, he got up for a quick hug before we finally left and presumably went right back to sleep for a few more hours. He had plans, something about picking apples later that weekend, so he must have needed some more sleep before starting.

We had about a half hour of full dark till reaching the low priced gas station in which to cuss out the drivers with their high beam headlights, complain about the glare off the wet road making it hard in places to find lane stripes, wish we weren’t missing the great fall colors in the total blackness, and congratulate myself on having the foresight to install brand new wiper blades the week before. Arizona is where rubber goes to die, and where retired people go so they never have to drive those three days a year when it rains, so the old wipers were well over a year old. This past summer in Minnesota we also went nowhere in the rain, so the replacement was kind of a betting-on-Murphy’s-law thing: since we’ll be on the road for 5 days, no choice, it’s sure to rain, right? It did of course, mostly lightly, for about 3/4 of the first day’s 700 mile trek.

Now I had planned on the first day being the worst. I was thinking about 650 miles to our motel, already reserved like they were for each night. But just as we were coming up on a  freeway junction, we looked at each other and asked why not take that road this time? We knew it connected to another one which took us to a city we were going through anyway. It would be like taking the other two sides of a square instead of the two sides we always did. So why not?

Turn made, just like that. Off we went.

Now we know why we take the other boring route. Our “square” had bulges and this route had  an extra 50 miles or so in it. Still, it was new scenery, including passing one lake full of over 20 white egrets… and one sandhill crane. Steve had made a bet with himself that once we left our summer home that we’d not see another “sand crane” as he puts it, till we came up next year. We both were delighted he'd been wrong.

Steve had more fun on this trip than usual. As a passenger, he has unrestricted movement - aside from his seat belt - and can wave at truckers as we pass them. In his case it’s a special wave that invites them to blow their horn in reply. Some trips he gets one or two of those, others none. This time he tied his record of 3, then broke it with 4, then 5, and finally 6! Eighty years old, and he gets as tickled as a kid getting the response from truckers on the road! I’m going to have to get him to show me that wave sometime when I’m not driving!

Ri-i-i-ight! Me not driving those long distances?

The one bad part of the trip was after supper. We were in the town our motel was, but decided to grab food from an Arby’s before checking in. The sun was nearly setting, and heading to our motel meant pulling into traffic at a stoplight while heading west. There finally was not a cloud in the sky to block the sun, and in order to see the traffic light I would need to stare straight into that blinding orb. Even my sunglasses were no help. I asked Steve to watch the light and tell me when it turned green since he had other choices of lights to look at, and I could watch lower, seeing oncoming traffic and road lanes. Theory was less awkward than reality but we made the turn safely and got to the motel.

An hour later we were both trying our best to sleep, early as it was. I’d neglected to bring in extra ibuprofen so I could accommodate my needs to their mattress and excuse for pillows. (When on earth will I learn to just pack my own pillow from home?????) I had to ransack the next couple of night’s pre-prepared set-ups to get what I needed for the possibility of sleep. It didn’t help the vibrating, but it made it possible for my shoulders to stop screaming with every little arm movement. The vibrating is mostly gone now that I've slept a bit, nearly 6AM as I finish writing this, waiting for Steve to be ready. In retrospect, maybe it was mostly a reaction to being in a vibrating car all those hours. We’ll be back on the road in a bit, once Steve is finished charging his back’s implanted pain interrupter. We have the time. It's a much shorter next leg of our journey.

I tend to plan these stops for places we've been that we like, not for equal distances between. I figure in expenses too, and there are few motels I'm willing to pay an extra hundred a night for just because they have what may or may not be a decent breakfast instead of a carb-a-thon. Give me eggs, yogurt, sausages or bacon, and skip the cereal, pancakes, sweet rolls, waffles, toast....  Maybe I'll just pick up a sandwich down the road.

Mom also had firm ideas about motels and what she'd pay to stay. Food? Never! There were always home made sandwiches, of which her favorite, liverworst, used to give me nightmares for years. I could always taste them when I got sick enough to run a fever. It was my personal yardstick for how sick I was. Her idea of a beverage - because she said MOUNTAIN WATER TASTED FUNNY - was Tang, but only mixed half strength because, I guess, mountain water didn't taste quite funny enough. Guess who never bought Tang afterwards in my life!

I don't remember Mom driving much when we were kids. She could, of course, but her comfort speed on the highway was 45 mph, despite signs saying 60. So my Dad would do the driving on family trips. With a typical day on a long trip being about 600 miles, we'd never get anywhere if Mom drove. There was always a particular goal in mind, like visiting Grandma in California, so no stopping to see scenery. You just caught it as the car went by or you didn't catch it at all. One rare exception I remember was a visit to Carlsbad Caverns. Those were pretty cool, but the other thing I remember about the place was the motel. No, not the building itself. The fact that motels advertised their prices on a sign outside meant Mom made Daddy drive around until she saw a sign $5 cheaper than any of the others. I think they paid $10 for a night for the four of us. As far as the room, all Mom did the whole time we were there was complain about the place. I don't know why. I never noticed anything. We kids were probably too busy complaining about liverworst and diluted Tang.

A Late September Morning Outing

Steve received a check in the mail which needed to be deposited at his bank, 17 miles away. He also needed quarters for a last visit to the laundromat before packing to head home. I do mine in the basement - very reluctantly - but draw the line at hauling all his clothes up and down those stairs as well. A morning drive was in order, especially because the cheapest gas in the area by $.21/gallon is in that town as well, along with a store we both had a list for last minute purchases from.

I had my coffee and brought breakfast along, something I could munch on while Steve was inside the bank, as ATMs don't give out quarters. Steve had eaten but wanted to stop to pick up some ice tea along the way. I brought my camera, because of course with fall colors starting to peak this early. The dog chose to stay home. If she doesn't want to go out, she makes a beeline for her kennel as soon as we start to pocket keys and phones, and unless we plan to be gone for long hours, we oblige and shut her in.

It was a long wait standing in the bank. Once Steve emerged, he begged off shopping for this morning, postponing it for a day, but suggested we could take the scenic route home while he sat in the car to watch the scenery. I'd already planned to ask him if he'd like to do that, so off we went, across 97 to 95, a different way than we'd come. Along the way we spied a pair of white birds in a little pond, one in the water, one on a muskrat house. My eyes had first been drawn by the colors rising behind. A pair of trumpeter swans was a bonus, but hardly showing in a tiny photo. Unfortunately this blog software hates larger pictures.

95 took us north with a couple minor detours on the way home. The detours, of course, had to do with looking for photogenic birds as well as scouting a location for a final shooting session for a package of combined family and senior class pictures for a friend. We'd gone out as a group on Sunday to other locations, gotten a lot of shots, but the one I had in mind needed afternoon light, and the student had to go to his job that afternoon. We rescheduled tentatively for Wednesday or Thursday after school when he wasn't working, depending on weather. I didn't mind that much because every day increased the fall colors in the background I wanted.

 

This is what it looked like this morning, although the exact spot has some bare cliff rock in places as well.  The St. Croix River separates MN and WI  for quite a few miles, much of it flat. But the Osceola side is high on a cliff while directly across is a flat area holding a park and boat launching area, newly remodeled last summer to add extra access ramps and parking. I'm hoping for afternoon sun instead of this morning's cloud cover so the colors pop better.

When Steve and I first pulled in, I spied an egret up in some dead branches lining the river. I pulled into an empty parking area across from it and got out the camera. I opened the car door as slowly as possible, but by the time I was standing, of course the egret had moved. Surprisingly, it moved closer to me! Because there was a bank down to where it landed, I went from a straight shot across to trying to creep up and point the camera down to see the bird. The first shots I got off weren't precisely focused on the birds but ripples behind it in the water where fish were busy jumping after whatever was on the surface. 

By the time I got close enough to get one that actually (mostly) turned out, the egret took off. I caught a quick shot in motion, including water dripping off its feet, then a later bit of video as it flew out of view.

The way home once we left led us past the local apple orchard, so a frozen apple pie to bake in the next couple days was in order, and that led us to a favorite spot to find sandhill cranes locally. I wasn't sure we'd see any because the last time I tried that dirt road the property owner of several fields where the cranes hung out had just mowed them all. Not a crane to be seen. However by the time we hit the end of the orchard property Steve had already seen three cranes, so they must be somewhere in the area. They were.

There were cranes on one side of the road, but far back in a field. A hundred feet further there were more on the other side of the road, sharing space with a sizeable flock (murder) of crows, much closer to the road and better subject for taking pictures. The large roll of hay in the back along the trees is the only one we saw in that field - or any of them. Mostly there were just dark  rows of drying plants for rolling up later, we presumed. But these cranes were busy ignoring our car and we took advantage of the opportunity.

I love this month!

Hello David, It's Me, Great Grandma

You haven't met me yet. I'm still about 60 miles away. You'll learn how far that is as you grow bigger, but right now I just wanted to pop in and say, "Hi". Are you awake? I still am, all excited about meeting you later. We can't talk yet, so I'm sending you all these thoughts now so you'll know who I am when we meet.

I'm an old lady now. In fact I'm 75 years and 5 days older than you are. I'm going to look about as wrinkled as you will later today when you come out and meet the world. You'll smooth out. I'll just stay wrinkled, and get even more so as you spend more time with me. It's OK. It's supposed to be that way. If you're lucky, you'll get to look like me in a whole lot of years from now when I won't be around any more. Maybe you'll remember me then when you see your own wrinkles. These people have things called mirrors you can look in to see stuff like yourself and what's behind you without needing to turn around.

A whole lot of people have been waiting to meet you. Mama of course, probably the most. You're still tucked right in there next to her. That thump thump you've been hearing for nine months is her heart, beating with love, beating for her and for you, keeping you both alive. In a little while you won't hear it any more, not until she picks you up and holds you next to her heart again while she feeds you, looking at you and marveling at every little bit of you and how you turned out, thinking how much she loves you, wondering how you'll grow up in this world, how it'll treat you, and how you'll treat it. I bet she's already got some plans for that.

Since you'll be outside of her later today, she won't be breathing for you any more. You'll have discovered how to do that for yourself already by then, and the thump thump you'll hear when things are very very quiet will be your own heart, beating on its own, only for you. But it will also beat for all of us as we rejoice that it's beating just fine, keeping you here with us all. Take very good care of it.

Who are we? Well, there's Mama of course. She was my own granddaughter when she was born. I got to watch her grow up, help show her the world, make sure she knew she was loved and cared for. Now she's your Mama. She already made two other kids for your family. You'll meet them soon. You have a big sister Anna. She's five and already starting to go to school and learn all kinds of interesting things. I bet if you're nice to her she'll tell you about a lot of them. She might even be your best big protector as you two grow up. Then you have a big brother Tommy. He's not a big as Anna, and still busy figuring out the world, mostly what happens to it when he hits it with a stick. Sometimes he even notices what happens to the stick when it hits something. You're going to have to watch out for him for a while, but Mama and Daddy will help. Daddy is really tall, a lot like Mama, and he'll be picking you up a lot and carrying you around. It looks different way up that high, but don't be afraid. Daddy will hold you tight. So will Mama.

Then you'll meet me and Great Grandpa. We've been waiting a long time to meet you too. Great Grandpa is even older than I am, though I think he doesn't have as many wrinkles. Just like you, though, he doesn't have any teeth either. You will grow your own in a few months, and several years later even grow a replacement set of them. Grandpa won't. He's already grown all of his and they went away. We can explain that to you later. Great Grandpa has a favorite thing when his grandchildren get a bit older than you are now: he'll want you to eat the rim of his hat. Don't worry, he'll have a fairly clean one for you, but he'll also want a picture of you eating it. He does it for all of his grandkids, and it makes him very happy. You'll be just about the perfect age when we see you again next spring.

It's going to be cold once you're outside of Mama, or at least colder than it was inside Mama. They are going to put something called clothes on you, and tuck you in under blankets. Those will be soft and will keep you warm. When you get older they will put these hard things on your feet. You can decide if you like those or not, but they do keep your feet from getting hurt by pokey things when you start to walk. Nothing to worry about yet, you'll figure it all out. Just watch the people around you and do what they do when you're bigger. There is also something called diapers you'll have to wear for a couple years. I'll let Mama and Daddy tell you about them. They had two practice kids already so they know what happens when they take them off of you, don't have the next one ready yet, and you get cold for a minute. (It's a really fun game!)

You'll go to live in a big house and sleep in a crib. There's even a nice dog you can play with, as long as you're nice to it. If you aren't, the dog will stay away, so try to be nice and not pull ears or tail while you're discovering what a good friend a dog can be. If you learn to throw a ball, the dog just might learn to play with you by bringing it back.

Are you still awake? Have I been keeping you up? Goodness, you better get some sleep. You and Mama have a really big day today. Great Grandpa and I will stop by and see you maybe the next day and get to hold you. When I have my turn I'll tell you who I am so you'll know it's me, the one who's been thinking all these loving thoughts your way to welcome you into the world. We can do it a lot when I'm not around so you don't feel alone, and I don't either. There's so much more to tell you about the world. I can't wait!

Sunset Fishin' With Family

Luckily Steve has a friend who loves fishing who has a truck to take him over to the river, because I had the car for another appointment yesterday afternoon. When I finally reached the river, those two and Steve's eldest son with his wife were already there, very well established, and much better dressed for the cool windy evening than I was. I sneaked up on them from behind with my camera for the first shots.

 

Then the fish tales began. This late in the day they chose to fish for catfish, so a small container of chicken livers had been purchased for bait. This is a catch-and-release crowd, but they had their own photos with their phones showing off the two catfish which had been caught. Just for proof, you know. Because other fishermen tell lies. The son's line had caught one, the daughter-in-law's line caught the other. I put it that way because it turned out she reeled both fish in. Her husband was otherwise occupied when his line got struck but nobody wanted to lose the fish, even just for bragging rights. He credits her with both fish, she credits him with one.

Steve managed to lose his bobber before I arrived. (He'd brought two poles, being legal on the river between two states, and was trying his luck with both methods with nightcrawlers for the bobber's line.) I took a hike downriver and managed to locate it. Shore current is very slow because the river is very shallow for a ways out along the landing side. It's deeper near the other, steeper bank, and one can watch bubbles, bugs, and detritus float by to easily see that is so, at least in late summer's low water levels. It wasn't too far before I located his bobber, but I was not about to ruin my shoes just to wade out and fetch it. No way in hell I'd head out barefoot either, no matter how much sentimental value that particular bobber holds for him. I like my feet, even as malformed as a long-ago doc told me they are.  I did take a picture to prove I'd found it, but edited it out later for lack of quality.

It was a good-natured time for all, even though no future fish were caught. It may have been the noisy motor on a canoe pulling in and the truck backing into the river to (help?) loading. Perhaps the tendency of the livers to fly off the hook during casting. (Maybe forgetting to flip the bails back before casting had something to do with that: hook stops abruptly, liver keeps going. More than one person involved there. Naming no names.) It may have been the surface-feeding frenzy before I left.  Much as this family loves fishing, on this night I believe fishing was primarily the excuse for getting together.

Shortly before it got too cold for me, still dressed for my afternoon instead of an evening at the river, a tiny break in the clouds lit up the far bank of the river in a swath of gold that slid slowly downstream before disappearing. It was the perfect note to end on. 

More Fishin'

 One of the real joys of this summer is watching Steve's health improve. With his back and knee pain sufficiently controlled enough to go from steadily unbearable to intermittently annoying, he's been more active, increasing his energy, strength, and balance as time passes. He's enjoying life much more, and that includes his first love, fishing. (Just wait: he'll read this and try to reassure me I'm his first love but we all know better. It's OK dear.)

Last week we went to the river 4 times. Paul converted a slab of plywood Steve bought into a platform to hold his steel folding chair firmly on the riverbank without its legs sinking into the mud and tipping. It perfectly fits around his chair, and in the process, the rim which keeps his chair from sliding off the platform also keeps his fishing rod in place when he needs to set it down for a moment. Just before we figured that out, his rod tried to travel into the river and I was called to stop it before it did. There was definitely a good fish on the end of his line, but by the time Steve got back to the rod the fish was gone... along with his hook and nightcrawler. I wasn't allowed to reel it in for him. Steve has the fishing license. I refuse to pay out-of-state license prices when we'll be back for good next summer and I can fish for resident prices. Anyway, I bring my camera.  Steve fishes, I shoot.

This is his latest catch, from Friday evening. We decided to take a last visit before all the holiday boaters came to the launch and scared all the fish with their noisy motors running over prime fishing territory.  A little looking around netted me this "catch". 

 We found evidence of coons pulling clams out of the river. Apparently they don't know that's illegal. It's also pretty apparent they fail to completely clean out the shells, as little snails have to come along afterwards and finish the job.

I'm not sure exactly what kind of critters leave these tracks from down below, whether clams or snails or even some well hidden worms. But as water levels drop along the banks and people/dogs/boats haven't trampled on the sand/mud yet, these show up.

But  when you're there for fishing, the next to the best time is this, reeling in to see what's on the other end of your line this time.