May 14, 2023 seems like a long time ago. In fact, it is just 7,053 miles ago. That’s the 6-month distance we have covered in our “A Year On The Road” RV adventure since leaving home in Florida.
From that original departure point to November 14, we have traveled through 18 states and totaled a mind-boggling 22,319 miles when you add in the mileage we have covered in our little Ford Fiesta, Nippy, as well as that 7,053 in RV Indefatigable (or Fati for short).
This isn’t quite 6 months, as Google won’t allow additional destinations after Lake Havasu in Arizona, but it should show the most recent part of the trip, to current spot Tucson (see below)
The last month has added 545 miles to Fati’s total but also 1,927 to Nippy’s. That means Nippy has now piled up a whopping 15,266 miles to date, so she is proving a real workhorse.
Of course, we should have gone even further afield, as we scrapped plans to head out to Washington and Oregon after reaching Glacier National Park in Montana, but we think that is still a pretty respectable total.
Below are two maps showing just the last month of our travels, from Kingman in Arizona to Tucson, via sparkling Lake Havasu City, Hope, Goodyear and Mesa (with 3 weeks in the greater Phoenix area in all):
From Kingman in northern Arizona, we traveled down the extreme west part of the state before reaching Interstate 10 and heading east to Mesa and then Tucson, with a week in between in Goodyear
And this shows the more detailed version, highlighting an overnight stop in tiny Hope and the (rather confusing) route through and around Phoenix before reaching the chic Voyager RV resort in east Tucson
We’re like that scene from Monty Python’s The Life of Brian, in which John Cleese’s character, Reg, peevishly asks the members of the People’s Front of Judea what the Romans ever did for them (Answer: medicine, irrigation, health, roads, cheese, education, baths, Circus Maximus, and peace). We kept adding to our long list of things we wanted to discover on this year-long journey, and this time we’re diving into our desire to experience some areas like a local.
We’re also far behind on our blogs, although quite a bit of our time in Mesa was spent just poodling around, sorting out a new mattress, taking Fati in for an oil change and other basic services, and visiting with friends old and new.
To kick off “living like a local,” we took advantage of the excellent dining options nearby – feeling unbelievably spoiled by the sheer variety of restaurants – with a visit to Queen Creek Olive Mill, a farm-to-table agritourism spot with olive trees, a lovely outdoor café, shop, and informative tour.
Olive Mill is the kind of place that reminds you there is simple elegance in the world.
Susan had the Queen Creek Chopped salad, Simon had the Kalamata salami and cheese sandwich, and we split a side of warmed olives in garlic and rosemary, and it was all so luscious we came back a week later and ordered the same entrees.
The chopped salad is dressed with the farm’s own luscious Lemon Olive Oil.
Simon only got through half his sandwich the first time we visited, but powered through and ate the whole thing the second time.
Oh my Lord God Sweet Baby Jesus! These are so delicious!
We were surprised to find out Susan’s second cousin lives not far from Mesa, so we met up with her and her husband twice during our stay, reliving family memories, looking at family photos, and enjoying their company. Heidi has a letter Susan’s mom (Kathy) wrote to Heidi’s mom in celebration of a milestone birthday, and tears flowed while reading it, hearing Kathy’s “voice” again. What joy, what grief, and what gratitude for Heidi sharing that letter!
With Halloween practically knocking on the door, we spent two evenings taking in the local festivals. First, the Vetuchio Farms Fall Festival, as wonderfully homespun and nostalgic as it gets.
With pony rides, a petting farm, a giant slide, fairground rides, a tractor-pulled train ride, and a corn maze, it takes you right back to happy childhood memories when times were simpler and kids still played outdoors.
“That’s a big dog.”
Adorable little cow train. The line to ride was LONG.
Ruthie took the lead in the corn maze, and she summoned all her super powers to get us back out!
The real locals got into the spirit of the night.
We had a big lunch that day, so we didn’t try any of the food. Instead, here’s a photo of a hapless pedestrian who tried to cross any road in Montana or Wyoming, where speed limits are just vague suggestions.
The next night we went to the Schnepf Farms Pumpkin & Chili Festival, where the pig races were high on our must-see list. Bigger and flashier than Vetuchio Farms, there was a lot more to do, but with less pull of the nostalgic. We’re pretty sure the same families we saw the night before were there, and we could understand why they’d want to do both.
We had time to watch some of the dog agility show before the pig races started, and while Ruthie assured us she has no interest whatsoever in that much exercise, it would turn out to be a real highlight for us.
Ruthie says “No.”
The pig races? Well, they were cute, but short. Five kids were chosen for each race, and they stood along the railing in front of a color that was assigned to each pig. The kid whose pig won the race was awarded a strap-on pig nose. Hilarious for some, humiliating for others, mainly depending on their age. We’ll just leave it there, because it was all in good fun.
We split a plate of succotash (which, to us, was more like grilled vegetables) and a bowl of chili, and the chili was so good we forgot to take a photo of it before we gobbled it down. Ruthie approved, too, when we let her lick the bowl.
On Halloween night we drove through a nearby neighborhood to see the decorations and the trick-or-treaters. It was the right decision, and made us feel less like we’re so far away from home. Susan especially is trying not to think too much about Thanksgiving and Christmas, the first time she will have been away from Young Son, ever, over the holidays.
We saw a lot of giant Jack Skellingtons
But the experience that made us feel most like we were living like locals were the nights when we crossed the road between Fati and the next row of rigs and spent time around Rocky and Ronda’s campfire, sharing stories, eating popcorn, having a barbeque, and feeling like we were part of a community.
Good neighbors!
Those of you who know our backs have been in agony for the last few months due to our Sleep Number bed whose air bladders never inflated, leaving us sleeping in deep canyons, will be glad to know we finally have a new mattress, after much trying.
We’d been sleeping on a thick foam pad for a few weeks while waiting for our new mattress to be made and delivered, and when it was delivered to some unknown location rather than the mattress store in Mesa, we had to wait another week for a second one to be made and delivered to our new location in Goodyear. Long story short, we slept well on our new mattress for the first time last night. Yay!
It’s so thick and supportive!
Our time in Mesa was the most social time we’ve had so far, and it was very, very hard to leave. Perhaps a season-long visit is in our future?
Highlighting our fourth month on the road and the route so far – all 5,929 miles of it
After three months of fairly hectic traveling, our four-month mark shows that we have come the shortest distance for any month of the grand RV trip to date, from Wheatland in Wyoming to Fillmore in Utah (via what looks like a strange detour to Declo in Idaho, but which was the best way to see some of Idaho without putting too many miles on our RV).
Our mileage for Month Four was therefore just 868 miles, compared to 1,318 last month, 1,239 in Month Two and a whirlwind 2,504 in the opening month.
The total distance in Indefatigable (or Fati for short) since we left Orlando is now 5,929 miles.
The slower pace has been deliberate, of course. We realized that we were trying to pack too much in to this crazy 10-wheeled adventure and we have purposely changed both our itinerary and our pace of travel to avoid the mental and physical breakdowns we experienced in the first two months.
The key has been to identify an area that allows us to explore in multiple directions for a week or so, and then use our tow car, Nippy, to do more of the exploration.
To that end, we have actually gone an additional 9,621 miles in Nippy in those four months, almost 3,000 of them in the past month alone. That total includes a spur-of-the-moment trip into Canada from Montana, our overnight excursion to Rocky Mountain State Park in Colorado and an extensive day trip to the Flaming Gorge in Utah, both from Wyoming.
Our total mileage for the trip so far is therefore a whopping 15,550, or 3,887.5 a month!
The next month could see us top that record for Nippy, too, as we plan on basing ourselves in southern Nevada for trips into Southern California. As ever, this is an – ahem – moveable feast, but you can be sure to read all about it here!
On August 14 we celebrated the third month of our grand ‘A Year On The Road’ RV adventure, with a chance to tot up our mileage and chart the latest course of the scenic route we are forging across the US.
Having ended Month Two at Fishing Bridge RV Park in the heart of Yellowstone National Park, we have basically undergone a bit of an about-face on our original planned route and gone “freelance” for a few weeks. Our third month covered a total of 1,318 miles, giving us a whopping 5,061 for the trip to date.
Month Three – 1,318 miles, starting in Yellowstone and reaching El Rancho Village RV & Cabins in Wheatland, Wyoming, via Glacier National Park in Northwest Montana
As you’ll see from the map, we continued north from Yellowstone to Glacier National Park, but then broke away from the proposed westward trek to Washington and Oregon via a bit of Idaho in favor of seeing more of Montana and Wyoming, two states which we have found utterly enchanting.
We have tried not to cover any of the previous route, apart from a few miles along I-90 in Montana, and have dived much deeper into Wyoming in particular, including side trips to Cheyenne and Laramie – very much the heart of the Old West – in Nippy to avoid putting too many miles on Fati. From here, we’re looking to turn West again, with each of Colorado, Idaho and Utah on our radar – and more of the magnificent Rocky Mountains.
Many a hearty laugh has been had by us over names like Pony Espresso, Jesusland, Jan’s Cut & Yak Hair Salon, The Lucky Chucker, and Born In A Barn, but one name has baffled us. Why, oh why is anything having to do with the U.S. named “Buffalo” when there are no buffalo in North America and there never have been?
“Bison Bill Cody” doesn’t have the same ring, we’ll give you that, but it, and the name of the town in Wyoming, would be more correct as “Bison,” not the name mistakenly given to the animal those of us of a certain age incorrectly grew up calling “buffalo.”
“Call me a buffalo. I dare you.”
None of that mattered too much when we paid a visit to Buffalo, partly on the suggestion of our RV driving instructor Geoff, who told us the Occidental Hotel there had a really cool saloon.
We’d make it our lunch stop, but first we took a little wander around town. Wyoming loves its metal sculptures and cut-outs, and Buffalo was no exception.
Ruthie wasn’t so sure about some of them.
“Ewe don’t smell right.”
The downtown area was pleasant, and while it wasn’t as jam-packed as Deadwood, it felt far more original, and we like that.
Not a Starbucks in sight
Known to the locals as “The Ox,” the Occidental Hotel was founded in 1880, and its saloon replaced a raggedy old bar in 1908. With its location at the foot of the Bighorn Mountains and central to the heavily-used Bozeman Trail, the hotel once played host to the likes of Buffalo Bill Cody, Calamity Jane, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and, later, Teddy Roosevelt. It is now on the National Historical Register.
Open the door and this is your view
The saloon is chock-full of Wyoming stuff – animal heads and skulls (of course), antiques, period stained glass, and even bullet holes from some long-ago booze-fueled gunfight. The saloon is original, and we could almost imagine cowboys, rustlers, gamblers, and the lawful and lawless bellying up to the 25-foot bar, some for a shot of “liquid courage” as poker games sometimes went on for days.
We just wanted lunch, but with No Dogs Allowed, our dining took place in the back garden that sits along a river, where the hotel has live music every Thursday night.
We only had ourselves as entertainment that afternoon, along with Ruthie, who loved us when we gave her a fry, then ignored us when that was all she got.
“YES! YES, I WANT THAT!”
“I thought you people loved me.”
Luckily, we adore each other and are happy with our own company. Even luckier, two young children, their mother, and their grandparents showed up for an al fresco lunch, and we were treated to several rounds of Hide and Seek, during which the youngest cheated like crazy.
After Buffalo, we returned to Sheridan to see the famous King’s Saddlery & King’s Ropes, an institution in a town where even the kids are decked out in cowboy hats and boots. We stuck out like the boring-clothed tourists we are.
King’s is part Western-wear and tack shop, part saddle makers, part rope makers, and while we wouldn’t know a good saddle or rope from a bad one, they certainly had some superb examples of the craft.
It was nearly time to say “goodbye” to Sheridan, but we’d be doing it having made some new friends. There is nothing quite like adversity to help bring people together, and this time we were able to be on the giving end of “a friend in need.”
A massive storm rolled through a night or two ago, and our newest neighbor sprung a little leak. A couple three sites down had a tarp they could lend her, and we had Ruthie’s long leash, which would help tie the tarp down, plus a Disney Cruise Line towel to sop up some of the leakage. In the end, we had great conversations about each of our travels, where all of us were headed next, and which locations were in our Top Five.
You can just see Simon’s red rain jacket hood on the far rear side of the trailer
Our intrepid neighbor is heading to Alaska for work, and we wish her great success and safe travels. As luck would have it, the other couple showed up at our next campground a few nights after us, and we promised to get together and chat over a drink. But Simon bashed his noggin on one of the slide-outs before that could happen, with a little blood, a very sore neck, and an early bedtime being the unhappy result. We’re traveling roughly in the same direction, though, and we sincerely hope our paths cross again, next time with wine.
Nobody should be smiling when encountering a sight like this
Simon loves the dark comedy movie, Fargo, with its relentlessly evil villains, the dogged heroine Marge, and that chipper no one who has ever seen the movie can forget. The Chipper prop now lives at the Fargo-Moorehead Visitor Center, and it was the reason we put Fargo on our Grand Adventure route.
We stayed at a Harvest Host in Minnesota the night before, celebrating Simon’s birthday in high style with cheese and bikkies (crackers for us U.S. folks) and a beer, since we had no access to electricity and didn’t want to use up our batteries (generators aren’t usually allowed at Harvest Hosts), plus we’d had a celebratory lunch and were too full for much more.
Birthday beer out there on the edge of the prairie (okay, right ON the prairie)
The host location was a farm with horses, goats, chickens, cats with newborn kittens, and a gangly, year-old dog named Pooh Bear.
It’s so soft!
We got to hold a three-day-old baby goat, meet the newborn kittens, and Simon, always ready to try his hand at something new, milked a mama goat.
We then spent the evening sitting on the front porch chatting with the owners, and felt it was exactly the kind of experience we were hoping to have during this journey.
The next morning we made the short trip into North Dakota, where we had another Harvest Host stay, this time at a winery, and while the sweet wines weren’t to our taste (neither was the eyelid tick), the food was good and we met another RVing couple who had come in from Oregon, which passed a happy couple of hours before heading back to the rig for the night, with a strong wind whipping through the prairie grasses as a small storm rolled past, which we loved.
Moody sky, but we only had a little bit of rain as the storm went past
Bismarck was our next destination, with a detour off the highway into Jamestown to see the World’s Largest Buffalo.
Imagine the droppings….
The roadside attraction included a touristy town with stagecoach rides, and it made for a nice diversion on our way to Bismarck.
We woke up early and headed back to Fargo for a photo op with the infamous Chipper. If you don’t know the movie Fargo, it’s the means through which the hapless main character gets turned into the human equivalent of ground beef, thanks to a crazy man with a passion for gruesome murders [Note: Leg in Chipper = hint].
Non-gory recreation of a very gory scene
The Coen brothers (Fargo’s producers and directors) signed the Chipper, but there was no way to get a photo of their signatures without glare, so here they are, just as obscure and unfathomable as the movie the brothers created.
Appropriately scrawled across the “exit”” end of the chipper, where whatever you shove into it blows out. Across the snow. All bloody.
Our next campground (with full hookups!) was Hillcrest Acres in Bismarck, a small, pretty place appropriately located on a hill, a forerunner to the scenery we’d see as we drove around the area for the next few days.
Fati getting comfortable
Countless times, we wondered how those hills (variously called “buttes,” “hills,” “points,” and “ridges”) formed, why most were grassy but some were bare, and why glacial movement made North Dakota so undulating, but Michigan so flat. Wind and water played their part, but we’d like to talk with a geologist to find out more. That’s one of the beauties of travel; it inspires curiosity.
These odd outcroppings are everywhere
Our first full day took us to Washburn, where we discovered the restored Fort Mandan, in an area the Lewis and Clark expedition spent the winter of 1804. The fort had various tiny rooms, such as quarters for soldiers, interpreters, and the captain, plus a smokehouse, blacksmith, and storage room.
Ruthie was absolutely captivated by the Sargent of the Guard’s quarters and didn’t want to leave. We don’t know why, but she was very clear about wanting to stay.
We tried not to read too much into it, but “past lives” certainly came to mind
She was less captivated by the statue remembering Seaman, the faithful Newfoundland dog who traveled with the expedition, but she dutifully sat for a quick picture.
A short stroll beyond the statue rewarded us with our first up-close view of the Missouri River, whose waters were low and many big sandbars could be seen. We would cross over the Missouri several times in the following days.
Just a short drive away from the fort was the Knife River Indian Villages National Historic Site (using their cultural terminology, not the terminology we might have chosen), with a recreation of a Native American earthlodge that marks the area many tribes used as a trading center.
A buffalo hide acts as the doorway into the lodge, and inside the temperature is about 10 degrees cooler. A deep, smokey smell permeates, which gave us a small sense of what living inside it would have been like. Ruthie lost her mind in there, loving all the new sniffs.
Ignore the man pants and man shirt
The visitor center here was superb, giving an excellent overview of two tribes and their lifestyles. Although the day was cool and we could safely leave Ruthie in the car for a short time, we had to turn down the host’s offer to watch a movie, as our Floridian sensibilities made us uncomfortable leaving her for very long. But the exhibits were terrific, and we felt we learned more about the people who once lived there.
We drove further west for Lake Sakakawea (pronounced here as Sah-KAH-kuh-WEE-uh, not Sack-a-juh-WAY-uh), a huge lake set below stark cliffsides, which must be ideal for boating on summer weekends. The history of the lake is, predictably, one of eminent domain, force, and the subsequent throwing-of-a-bone in naming it after a famous figure who (it is my opinion) probably had as little say in her destiny as the land that now holds the lake named for her did.
A small slice of Lake Sakakawea
This is the site of two-mile-long Garrison Dam, a three-part set of structures built by the U.S. Corp of Engineering in 1953, that includes a pump station…
…the dam itself…
…and a spillway that helps route water back into the Missouri when levels get too high. Neither of us are geeky in that way, but it was truly fascinating, and we spent a fair bit of time pointing and saying, “I wonder what that’s for….”
North Dakota’s oldest state park, Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park ($7 to enter), was our next stop, with three re-created blockhouses overlooking the Missouri River. On breezy summer days, the many narrow lookout windows must have afforded an excellent breeze. In winter, it must have been cold enough to freeze the brass whatsits off a monkey.
One of the three blockhouses
There are several of these narrow windows all around the blockhouse, some with fabulous views
On-A-Slant Indian Village was within the park’s boundaries, too, and the earthlodges here were beautifully displayed, along with panels that described life in the Mandan tribe village from 1575-1781.
We were captivated by the idea that boys in the Mandan culture learned to shoot with accuracy by playing a game that involved throwing a hoop into the river and shooting an arrow into its moving center. According to an exhibit we saw, it was their belief that the dead buffalo they found floating in the river with each spring thaw were a result of these games. All of the children would have been treated to funny stories that told important tales.
On the way out of the park, Simon made a quick right turn when he saw a sign for Custer’s House. We couldn’t take Ruthie in it, so we agreed Simon would check out the house while Ruthie and I waited in the car with the air conditioner on.
Spot the docent? No, you don’t, and neither did Susan
Twenty minutes later he was still standing on the house’s porch, so the following phone call ensued:
Susan: Hey. What’s going on? Simon: Oh. Yes. It’s nice to hear from you. Uh-huh. I’ll let you know when I’m there. Susan: What the hell are you talking about? I can see you standing on the porch, so I’ll certainly see you when you get back. Simon: Okay, thanks! All the best. Bye for now.
When he got back to the car, he detailed the conversation a docent sitting on the porch (whom I couldn’t see) had at him. Not with him, at him. Simon asked what rank Custer was during the war, and 20 minutes later he knew everything from Custer’s blood type to his favorite dessert and whether he preferred tighty-whities or boxer-briefs. (Okay, not really, but the docent talked for a full 20 minutes, and Simon had to pretend I was someone important so as to break off the dissertation gently and with respect).
For those who cannot bear not knowing, it turns out Custer was a Lieutenant Colonel during the battle at Little Bighorn, but was a General during the Civil War and was allowed to keep that designation as an honorary title when that bloody war ended.
We finished the day at Standing Rock, an important stop along the Native American Scenic Byway. Our goal was to visit Sitting Bull’s burial site, which we found after many wrong turns, having blown past it on the way into town. Most people probably do that, too. There is only a small sign on the side of the road that indicates where this great man’s resting place is (or rather, was; he’s since been moved at the request of his grandchildren).
The grand brochure we were given at the Fargo visitor center did not prepare us for what we found at Standing Rock. Perhaps we missed the highlights, though we’re not quite sure how we could have. Instead – and we’re assuming a LOT, all of which may be wrong – we found a town completely void of energy, as if a total lack of opportunity and a heaping helping of injustice held the place and its people in a state of downcast limbo. We’ll end our sweeping assumptions there, and, with heavy hearts filled with compassion, put our energy into hoping all good things come to the people who, by choice or by historical force, make it their home.
Want to see how far we’ve come in a month? This is the 31-day update of route – and distance – so far.
We now have a full month of our scheduled 12 officially in the books, and we have so far traveled a whopping 2,504 miles from home. We have crossed nine states, two time zones, and stayed in 14 different campgrounds and Harvest Host venues.
We have slowed down since our initial 7-day warp-speed approach (1,289 miles in that period; 1,215 in the 3 weeks since), and are paying more attention to savoring the sights as we travel. And we’re seeing some pretty stunning sights.
The route so far – 2,504 miles in 31 days, taking us from tropical Florida to the wide open spaces, and amazing scenery, of the Midwest and Northern Plains.
We are now in uncharted territory – for us – and ready for more adventures in the Dakotas, Montana and Wyoming. This is a hugely exciting part of the journey, with the areas rightly renowned for the wide open spaces of this huge country.
Having just arrived on the edge of The Badlands of North Dakota, the landscape is truly outlandish and full of intrigue. We’re here for the best part of a week, and will have a LOT more to report in due course.
The backdrop to our current spot in Medora, North Dakota, the Red Trail Campground, surrounded by the rugged scenery of The Badlands, and the gateway to Theodore Roosevelt National Park
For those keen on geography and geology, the term “Badlands” is a specific geologic feature of sedimentary rock erosion, and it creates some captivating and bizarre landscapes. We hope to see a lot of it in the next few days, as well as wildlife that should include bison, pronghorn antelope, bighorn sheep, deer, feral horses, and – Simon’s favorite – the prairie dog.
After our indecently hasty first-week charge through the center of the USA, our pace has (deliberately) slowed in weeks two and three. Instead of 1,289 miles in 7 days, we covered “just” 691 in 14 days; i.e. half the distance in twice the time. That’s still probably more than most dedicated RVers will travel in that time, but a better realization of what RV travel is all about.
We gave ourselves a day in Gaylord, three days in northern Michigan at Mackinaw City, seven in the Upper Peninsula in Munising for the superb Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, one day in Crystal Falls, and then another seven as we crossed over into Minnesota at Duluth and pitched camp in Saginaw, just to the north-west.
The map of our route from Lansing, Michigan, to Saginaw, Minnesota, 14 days of excellent RV travel
That’s where we are right now, prior to our next major move – west through Minnesota and into the “undiscovered country” of North Dakota, Fargo, Bismarck and all. This will be entirely new territory for both of us, and we can’t wait to discover new adventures…
PS: The map shows it would take 11hr 33min (by car, non-stop) to cover the route that took us 2 weeks!
The Land of Ten Thousand Lakes. Home to wolves, bobcat, coyote, bears, and, a long time ago, woolly mammoths, Minnesota is also the birthplace of Susan’s grandfather, a descendant of Slovenian immigrants seeking life and work in a place similar to home. And that means mining, a distinct accent, and winters harsh enough to freeze your bollocks off.
But our arrival was much more temperate, once we got past Duluth.
Duluth, Minnesota
Those Steep Grade warnings on our GPS were the first test of our nerve before we head into mountain territory, and while Simon was eager to give it a try (with a healthy dose of respect), Susan was not so sure. Perhaps the person holding the steering wheel with their foot on the gas or the brake has a mental advantage over the helpless passenger.
Whatever the case, the downward grade proved to be a doddle. We’d had worse coming through the Appalachian foothills on our way up from Florida. The upward grade, however, would be a different matter.
Leaving Wisconsin meant crossing the St. Louis River into Duluth, where the unexpected sight of the John A. Blatnik Memorial Bridge brought on the heart-pounding terror of the Mackinaw Bridge crossing for one of us (Susan, obviously), with its massive rise and certain death by drowning if the rig went over.
In the end, it was butt-clenching but do-able, much more so than the Mighty Mack due to its higher sidewall and less visibility straight down to the river.
We could see the uphill Steep Grade we’d been warned about when we reached the end of the bridge. From there, it looked incredibly daunting – a nearly straight-up pitch with its full horror hidden by sweeping upward curves. Simon downshifted into second gear, checked that we were already in Tow Haul mode, and let Fati’s engine take the brunt of it.
We have no photos of it, of course, since Simon’s hands were gripping the wheel and Susan’s hands were gripping the armrests.
Our 11-ton rig performed magnificently, and once we were at the top of the hill we (and she) breathed a sigh of relief. The rest of the trip was pretty and uneventful, though we were immensely curious about the foggy pall that lay over Duluth, a meteorological phenomenon caused by air hitting the warm land after passing over Lake Superior’s deep, notoriously cold waters, which we’d encounter repeatedly over the next few days.
We were thrilled to be upgraded from a 30-amp back-in site to a 50-amp pull-thru when we checked in at Red Pine Campground in Saginaw, Minnesota, about 28 minutes north-west of Duluth. We parked between two fragrant pine trees with an Airstream RV on one side and nobody on the other, hooked up to water, electric, and sewer, then set off to see the sights.
Having learned our lesson with a tick scare on Ruthie after hiking in Michigan, the first order of business was to find some hiking clothes, ideally the kind that has tick and bug repellant built in. Menards – that vast warehouse of all things outdoors in Michigan – wasn’t far away. It also wasn’t anything like the ones in Michigan, and was really a gigantic Home Depot. Strike One. Walmart was Strike Two. In the land of outdoor adventure, either the locals never went outdoors, were far heartier than us, or already had hiking clothes.
Susan refused to go into any more stores that didn’t have the words Sporting Goods on them, and to our great joy we came upon Dick’s. But this wasn’t a big Dick’s. It was a little Dick’s. And no offense intended to anyone, but we were pretty sure we’d hate little Dick’s.
Little Dick’sSusan in her ultra-flattering men’s hiking shirt, freezing on the lakeshore
Simon waited in the car with Ruthie (again), while Susan dealt with the little Dick’s. Long story short, it wasn’t a little Dick’s, it was a big shopping mall with a little Dick’s. Apparently, women don’t hike, so half an hour later we both had a set of men’s hiking pants and shirts (and a massive cha-ching on our credit card), and we were off to the North Shore Scenic Drive with Gooseberry Falls as our turn-around point.
First up was a pull-off viewing area that led down to a small river that emptied into Lake Superior where, it seems, something spawns.
Roadside oddity Toms Logging Camp (no apostrophe needed, it seems) was our next discovery, and while they don’t allow dogs on the camp trail, we took a few minutes to explore the wacky gift shop and it’s homespun signs that explained the “décor” on the walls, from the type of timber used to build the shop to the mountain goat’s head and a grim description of how long it took to die after it was shot.
The most gorgeous cowboy in Minnesota!
Susan had been hoping to find a small bag of long-grain wild rice, and we found it here, then we headed north again. Our packed-lunch stop was the lighthouse in Two Harbors, where the fog on Lake Superior was starting to roll in. We made it to the end and back, but during that walk the temperature dropped by about ten degrees, then rose again when we reached land.
You can see the fog in the background, which would be in the foreground soon.
Even the over-achiever Canadian Goose couple with their 27 (!!) goslings were unimpressed.
Simon had too much blood in his caffeine stream, and we seriously needed warming up, so we popped in at Burlington Station, where he added eight hand-made truffles to the bill without asking how much they were. The total for the truffles and two mocha coffees came to $46, and the look on his face was priceless as he tried to hide his shock and horror.
In all fairness, they are absolutely scrummy, and we’re making them last as long as possible. But damn…that’s some serious cash for a couple of pounds of chocolate. You could buy a whole new check valve for your water pump for that price!
Gooseberry Falls was the most magnificent of all the falls we’d seen so far, so we’ll just let you enjoy them, as we did.
Fog followed us back along the coastline until we turned west and headed home again, where one of us flopped onto their bed, so exhausted by the day they couldn’t even close their mouth all the way before they fell into a deep, contented sleep.
A trip back to Marquette to pick up a prescription was necessary, but a bizarre roadside attraction recommended by our dear friend Julie helped break up the trip, and, ultimately, made the whole journey worthwhile.
Lakenenland’s tongue-twister of a name hints at the quirky nature of the place, and the deliberately placed warning signs before entering the always-open always-free drive leaves no doubt there is a story behind its current location. The smaller sign reads:
“As a result of (8) eight years of continuous harassment from the township of Chocolay, the No Trespassing sign is directed at all local members of planning and zoning boards only. All other members are welcome here 24/7/365. Thank you for stopping and hope you enjoy your visit. Sincerely, Tom Lakenen”
Clearly, there has been some animosity
We’ve never been on those boards, so we spent a happy half-hour driving past various objects the intrepid Mr. Lakenen assembled into works of unusual art.
A boat. I guess.Wildlife spotting!
Tom has opinions, too, and (luckily for our mental health) we agreed with his support of front-line workers, nurses, and people who are currently being maligned by the likes of Florida’s dictator-wannabe. But most of the art is just fun, even when it’s a bit head-scratching.
Mechanical BandA tribute to freedom in Ukraine
We returned to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore’s Sand Point for a final walk along the beach and were treated to two water rescue planes (Coastguard, maybe) doing training sessions. This is a photo of them landing in the bay. At least, it would have been if Simon had realized he had the camera’s lens turned to “unintentional selfie.”
Even so, the magnificence of the beach and the lake was an ideal “goodbye” to the area, as we prepared for our speedy trip to the pretty Pentoga Park Campground in Crystal Falls, Michigan, where, we were assured, our hot water heater and water pump problems would be solved by mobile RV mechanic, Scott, who we found through our now-familiar go-to company, MyRVResource..
With such a short distance to drive to the campground, we stopped in the impossibly tiny town of Alpha, where we found The Village Longhouse, a cash-only coffee-and-cake stop that would waste an hour or so, allowing us to arrive at the campground right at check-in time.
While we were sitting in the shade with coffees and a piece of cake to split, one of the locals came out and asked if he could join us, saying, “I’m used to the people inside. I like it when there’s new blood I can talk to.”
In the U.S.’s current political division, we had some concerns about how this was going to go, but it seems we met a somewhat rare liberal in Upper Michigan, and the next hour passed quickly as we shared stories of travel and politics. Finally, it was time to leave, and in a short time we were pulling into the campsite, where the friendly camp host shared photos of her dog and let us scope out a site that was as level as possible.
Pantoga Park campground
If you’ve been following us on Facebook, you already know the outcome of our hot water heater issue. The heights of joy, and the crushing next-day disappointment. Susan’s much-needed hot shower, and Simon’s agonizing path to cleanliness. We laugh about it now, as we hope you will, and we accept the hard-earned titles of “total twonks.”
Calm restored, we left Michigan the next morning and drove through America’s Dairyland on our way to our Minnesota campground. It had become our habit to do a wildlife count as we drove, and so far the tally was meager, with only one deer, several wild turkeys, and the hugely surprising sight of a gray wolf crossing the road just outside Marquette.
Perhaps the most surprising sight of all came when we stopped at a gas station in the middle of god-knows-where, only to discover what we thought was a convenience store was really a bar filled with ATV-ers swilling back Michelob and cocktails before “hitting the dust” again. The massive Frontier Bar sign on the front of the building was a hint, but, as we’ve so often done, we didn’t take it.
This photo is worth clicking on for some Up North humor
We did take a chicken strips basket to-go and split it in the rig, then made the rest of the journey into Minnesota while our GPS flashed the warning signs for a 6-degree Steep Grade going downhill and a second Steep Grade of 6-9 degrees going up.
Veness Travel Media 