Day 10, Monday, June 1, Kindle, Badlands, Wall Drug, and Mount Rushmore

We slept in until the alarm went off around 9:30. If Ben wanted to swim, we needed to be out of the room by 11.

So, we had the complimentary breakfast – slim pickings in South Dakota, and hit the pool. It was a really nice pool – indoors, warm, with a sauna.

Afterwards, I had to get on the internet. My online class had started the previous Tuesday, and I had not been able to connect with them as much as I’d expected. Fortunately, I hadn’t set much as actually due because students were still adding the class. I troubleshot the issues that were posted, and logged off.

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We stopped for gas before leaving. South Dakota is the place where no one from the Obama administration has ever set foot. Everyone smokes. Everyone hunts. Everyone rides a motorcycle. Most of the men have facial hair. And they buy beer by the case at 11 AM on a Monday. There was more than one person doing that at a convenience store right in the middle of town. They weren’t buying much else.

And we were off on what turned out to be our shortest driving day – under 200 miles. I had a vague plan of turning southwest after hitting Mount Rushmore, and making it to some place like Cheyenne, Wyoming, although a littler town like Torrington or Newcastle was closer and seemed more realistic. This would turn out to be too optimistic.

We went back down that street, past our motel, and straight on to the bridge over the Missouri River. It was a long, low bridge – there’s probably only barge and pleasure boat traffic on the river. I was surprised at how wide it was, and it didn’t look very shallow, just slow moving. I always kind of thought of the Missouri as a big flat creek, but it was a lot more substantial than that. Of course, it’s so heavily dammed these days that the it’s basically just a system of reservoirs in this part of the country.

On the far side, we climbed the bluff, and got back on I-90. It was very different than the previous evening, and in a little while we passed the 100th meridian. This is the unofficial borderline of the American West. And it looked like the west: distinctly drier, browner, and more open. If you’re trying to visualize this on a map, the 100th meridian is the western border of the main part of Oklahoma with Texas.

For me, it felt like going home. I tried to explain to Ben, and he told me that he had liked the gray, wetter weather of the east. Go figure. It's kind of weird that he was saying this, because it clouded up and started to drizzle not long after.

Ben had finished his book. He didn't bring enough, and I think he'd read them about 3 times. So, I offered to get him a book on my Kindle. He had no idea what to get, but I did. As a backup plan, I'd looked at books for 10 year-old boys and decided he would probably like Percy Jackson and the Lighting Thief. Before we'd left I'd checked to make sure it was available on Kindle. So, click, click, and Ben had a new book. But, the drizzle and the drive were getting to him, and a bit later I heard him snoring.

An abandoned farm - we saw quite a few of these in western South Dakota.

After about 2 hours, the drizzle stopped, the clouds cleared a little, and we made it to Badlands National Park. Bob was right; you pull off the interstate and you're in the park right away.

And I was stunned. I liked Badlands as much as Bryce Canyon or Arches: it’s easily accessible from your car, not too long, and you feel safe watching your kid be a kid. It’s not as colorful as Bryce Canyon, or as unique as Arches, but it’s much more “playground-like” than either of them.

We stopped at the first viewing area, and walked out a trail into this view. The beginning of the trail was a boardwalk, with signs on the sides to beware of rattlesnakes.

Some gay, French motorcyclists took our picture.

These three are out near the tip of the fin we were on. I guess there isn’t enough greenery out at the end to make the rattlesnakes much of a problem.

Ben by a drop-off.

Ben, tempting fate.

We followed those guys through much of the park.

From the same parking area, we hiked off on a boardwalk going in another direction.

There were no rattlesnake signs in this area, so I felt a little more comfortable about Ben getting off the trail.

I think this is a roadrunner, but it’s smaller than the ones we have in Utah.

Beware of armored mud balls!

Ben liked this butte on his side of the truck.

Hiking a trail above the visitor’s center.

Looking behind from the trail, with Nebraska in the distance.

Ben was excited, and hiked ahead while I took pictures.

It wasn’t very shady, but this was a nice little wood to walk through.

We drove on for a while, and came to this next viewing area. This was the area where Ben was really able to get off the trail and play. These next 5 shots are ones I took while exploring.

Here’s 6 of Ben exploring.

Four videos of Ben having a ball.

Ben had a riot climbing in this area - there were no signs for rattlesnakes here, probably because there's nothing for them to eat right here,

Ben fails to climb a small pinnacle - not for lack of effort.

Ben sliding down from another pinnacle.

Off at a run.

Driving through Badlands was so pretty, with the contrast between the plants and barren rock..

Ben on a boardwalk looking at a fossil found here.

The fossil

We drove on to another viewing area called Yellow Mounds. In the distance, Ben is climbing up the mound.

The quality of the video doesn't do this shot justice, but it was really amazing the way the wind made the grass flow back and forth in this valley.

Three shots from the parking lot.

That one there is the one Ben and I climbed.

Above are 6 shots I took from the top of the big mound closest to the parking area.

Ben hiking in the distance.

What was really amazing about this spot, and which doesn't come through well in the video, is the sound: wind blowing, grass hissing, birds chirping, and little animals scurrying everywhere.

This is looking back from the spot where I took the video. This boardwalk is long – perhaps 1000 feet. When you get out on it you feel like you’ve left civilization. You still get a sense of what they said in the 19th century that this was a sea of grass.

We drove out of Badlands, about 5:30 PM, and into a tourist trap! The 2-lane road goes into a village called Wall, but the whole village is basically Wall Drug. You don't have to stop, but it's the only game in town. Wall Drug is an old-fashioned western pharmacy that started adding attractions and more shops about 75 years ago. The whole thing now occupies an entire block. It probably is no bigger than a Wal-Mart, but it feels like it is. Surrounding it are motels, diners, parking lots, and more shops. My guess is that everyone who lives in that town works there (although I did talk to a guy in one of the shops who said he commuted from Rapid City every day.

Mary Jo said we could pick her up a cigar store indian if we saw one cheap. They were for sale, but not in my price range.

I thought this pendant tree was beautiful.

Pioneer Ben

Easterners think the jackalope is mythical, but westerners know better.

When you're 10, and have cash in your pocket, the animatronic T-Rex in a store just gets a shrug of the shoulders before you bolt to shop some more.

Ben drinks a lot of sugar on an empty stomach.

That blue thing he's drinking must have a lot of sugar in it. I'd just told Ben how embarrassed my friend Chuck Bechmann was in 7th grade when he saw the word tipi on the board and asked what a tippy was.

I’m not sure how long we stayed at Wall Drug – it’s a maze, and there are no clocks. We ate dinner and I had several cups of nickel coffee though. We dropped a lot of money there, and left with a lot of loot. For Ben, it was like 20 gift shops all rolled into one.

I was looking for smelly, girly stuff for Mary Jo. I tried out something, and realized it was a scent I’d always loved, and had never known the name of: you catch it in pastures, and by roadsides once in a blue moon. The scent was sweetgrass. It grows everywhere, but slowly, so you don’t notice it much. The Lakota though, use it in ceremonies. So I brought her some sweetgrass hand lotion. She liked it so much, she bought a bunch more off the internet as gifts. And, she’s bought a bunch of plants and put them around our house, and they’re amazing.

We headed out, and it was still light, but it was cloudy again. We headed for Rapid City, which is about 45 minutes west. By this time I had to think about a room for the night. The first place we stopped had 2 hotels connected by an indoor waterpark. We were so there … but they had no vacancies. Ben was ticked. I was worried that other places might be full, and the signs indicated as much. But, we didn’t end up having much trouble, and got a room at the next place.

At the desk I asked about directions to Mount Rushmore. Without prompting, they said, “if you’re going to see the night program you need to leave now”. I asked if the night program was good, and they said it was the best part. I took the room keys, and we got right back in the truck.

There were right. The drive takes about 30 minutes, and we were able to drive comfortably, park, walk normally, and be in the viewing area within a few minutes of the show starting.

On the way, I took this shot: if you don’t like the presidents that are on the mountain, I guess you can buy one of your own.

When we pulled into the parking lot we saw this. We both thought it was so cool when I got the truck: all U-Haul trucks have a state or city on them, and ours was Northwest Territories, with a picture of ice road truckers. It was unique. No one was going to have one of those, and we didn’t see one on the rest of the trip. But, there in the parking lot at Mount Rushmore, was another ice road trucker. It was the only other one we saw.

Here’s Ben at the entrance to the Visitor’s Center. It’s kind of over-the-top in a Greek temple sort of way.

Presidential pops

This is the start of the night program at Mount Rushmore. There is an amphitheatre below us, and we are on a viewing deck at the back. It's pitch black, and you can't see the mountain when the ranger comes out and does their spiel.

This is towards the end of the program, and it was very moving. After the ranger gives their 10 minute show, they invite all the veterans on stage - and let them help - with the lowering of the flag. While this is going on, they fire up the lights on the mountain.

Here's the lights just starting to come on.

Here’s the two of us after the show.

This avenue has the flags of all 50 states, and the 6 districts, commonwealths and territories flying. And ... look at the size of the gift shop at the end! Ben got some loot there ... but it was actually probably the cheesiest gift shop on the whole trip - lots of souvenir spoons for ladies who's husbands are vets, and the like.

We drove back to the hotel. Rapid City is very tourist friendly, but not easy to get around when you don’t know the way. It was late, and the pool was closed. We’d swim in the morning again.

Our room had just a king size bed. We snuggled up and watched the remainder of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Day 9, Sunday, May 31, 2009, Birds and Bees, Windmills, Heritage, and Bugs

We got up at a decent time, took in the free breakfast in the motel, triple-checked for forgotten stuff, and hit the road.

Before we left, Ben put his cellphone in his pocket. Before we’d left Utah, I made a point of getting a new cellphone, and adding my old cellphone to our plan under a new number. I gave this to Ben – in case we got separated on the road, he could call me, or call home.

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We quickly passed out of Illinois into Wisconsin. Our last toll was at the border – one sign that we were passing out of the East.

The problem with this route is that there’s a big hook in I-90. It goes about 100 miles north to go through La Crosse, Wisconsin, and Rochester, Minnesota, before dipping about 30 miles south again, and then heading due west. It’s tailor-made for a shortcut. But … I wasn’t really thinking about a shortcut, so much as a side-trip.

I never knew my father’s father – he died 6 years before I was born. No one thinks I missed much. What I did know is that he was from Decorah, Iowa, that he’d run away to join the army in 1915, and that my cousins still owned the house he’d grown up in. On the map, there are U.S. highways going west from Madison, through Decorah, which meet up with I-90, and cut off its loop. This was side-trip for the day.

It was also time for the talk. Mary Jo had been bugging me for quite some time to sit down with Ben and have the talk. You know … the talk that fathers have to have with their boys when they reach a certain age. I’d always felt Ben was too young, but he was ten-and-a-half now, and the time was right. Plus, I’d have his undivided attention in the truck. So, starting in southern Wisconsin, Ben learned about the birds and the bees. I spent a couple of hours on all the details, and on answering all his questions. My gosh … I got so into it, that the only time I got lost was during the talk while driving through Madison – I missed my turn off by about 8 miles, and had to backtrack. There are no pictures from this part of the trip.

Eventually, we found the right turn off, for US 18, going west towards Prairie du Chien on the Mississippi River. The talk was finished by the time we hit Dodgeville, about 45 minutes west of Madison. We stopped in a diner there to use the bathroom.

We were in dairy country now, and Ben took this video of windmills on the south side of the road. The terrain was rolling, but not hilly, and the truck had no problem eating the miles.

We made good time, and about an hour later, we dropped off of the plateau of southwestern Wisconsin, into the deep valley floor of the Mississippi. The bridge was narrow, and the river is not impressive there: narrow, brown, and shallow looking. The bottom lands are heavily wooded, unlike the rolling farmland we’ve just spent the morning crossing. On the other side, Iowa is much the same. We climb out of the forested valley into rolling hills, that flatten into the plains as the road turns towards the northwest.

I got nervous that we were going the wrong way, because US 18 had now turned into US 52, so we stopped at a motel in Postville to ask directions. They assured us we were on the right road. I made some small talk with the couple at the desk, and found out that Postville is loaded with New York Jews: it’s a center of kosher meatpacking. But, we didn’t see anyone that looked Orthodox.

We continued on, and came to Ossian (pronounced AH-shun). It’s a tiny place – a few dozen homes strung out along the highway, with perhaps one street running parallel to the highway on either side. The census says 853 people live there. That seems high, but not impossible. In 1915, my grandfather ran away from home. He was between 15 and 20 (I know of no less than 3 birthdates for him). He went all of 15 miles or so to Ossian, and joined the army. My dad said that he did go back to Iowa to visit, but he never really lived there again. By 1925 he was settled for good in Buffalo. Ossian wasn’t worth a stop.

Two shots of the countryside between Ossian and Decorah.

The next stop was Decorah. It reminds me of Cedar City, without the half the population who are transplants with new houses. We drive around a bit, and it’s pretty, even a little prosperous.

We even see a sign in Norwegian on a hotel.

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But, I’m lost. I kind of thought it would be small enough to just find Mechanic St., where he was from. I probably would have eventually, but I was getting frustrated looking. We also were either on highways without many pedestrians, or busier streets where I couldn’t stop for directions with a truck.

When I’d gotten the new phone, I’d signed up for a $10/month service that gives you directions. I called it, and put in the address I wanted. But, it was the first time I’d used it, and I couldn’t get it to work: it needed to know where I was in order to tell where to go from there. And I had no idea where I was. I laid the phone down on the seat and started looking for a place to park my big fat truck.

Then, as I approached a stop sign, a voice said “turn left”. I had no clue. After I turned, the voice said something about proceeding so many tenths of a mile and turning left again. Then it dawned on me – when I didn’t tell the phone where I was, it went and figured it out all by itself, and was using that information to offer directions. So, I listened, and sure enough, we came up to Mechanic St., and I turned left. Then it said the address I wanted was on the right in about 4 blocks. And there it was: 707 Mechanic St., the house my grandfather had fled 96 years before.

It meant nothing to Ben, and really not that much to me, so I got out by myself, and took 2 pictures, and some choppy video.

I was already to get back in the truck, when I decided that I’d better at least knock on the door, and tell them I wasn’t some psycho taking pictures of their house. I knocked, and waited, and sure enough someone came to the door.

And … he looked like … my Dad. There was definitely a resemblance: he had the same kind of broad, but not fleshy, top half to his face. His hairline was the same too. He was about 35, thin, medium-height, and blond. His name was Garic Hjarleid, and he was a third cousin: his grandmother was my grandfather’s older sister Josephine. It was his parents’ house, but they were out. I explained the situation, and curiosity satisfied for both of us, and not much more to say, said good-bye and left.

I made a u-turn at the corner and headed back the way I came. Then I heard shouting. He was running down the sidewalk trying to catch us. I stopped. He said there was going to be a family reunion there in the summer of 2010, and that I was invited. We exchanged phone numbers, and I drove off again. It’s amusing to think about going to such a thing, but it’s kind of extravagant when you live 2000 miles away.

Before leaving town, we stopped at a public bathroom by the police station. We then continued out of Decorah going north on US 52, over a huge bridge over the valley of the Upper Iowa River, and crossed into Minnesota a few minutes later.

Before starting up, Ben took this opportunity to open the gift Beth had given him; the one he'd had to promise not to open up until he got really bored.

In Preston, we turned west on Minnesota 18. Around 4 PM we stopped in Spring Valley to gas up, and get something to eat at Dairy Queen. Twenty minutes later we picked up I-90 and headed west. We’d substituted 250 miles of two-lane highway for about 300 miles of I-90, and I figure we’d lost about an hour … a fair trade.

We were into serious Great Plains now: flat, with farms, and none of the rolling hills of Wisconsin. Soon, we saw our first billboard for Wall Drug – some 400 miles to the west. Three hours later we crossed into South Dakota, and stopped for gas and a bathroom break in Sioux Falls. The sun was going down, so it was a good time to stop – the sun wouldn’t be in my eyes any more when we started out. We stopped at a real dive of convenience store. Fortunately, it was empty – I can only imagine the sorts that frequent it. Ben was fascinated: they sold liquor, they sold ammunition, they sold knives, they sold tons of prepared food that was bad for you – sausages and pastries and fried stuff.

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We headed out into a warm spring, South Dakota evening, and it was stunningly beautiful: flat, yes, but green, moist, and wide-open. It was almost like one big turf farm.

Then the bugs came out. Without a doubt, I had the heaviest accumulation of windshield messes I’ve ever had. For parts of it, I was running the wipers, and squirting fluid every 20 seconds or so. It was far worse than when Mary Jo and I drove through the monarch butterfly migration in 1992.

Around 10:30, after almost 700 miles, we pulled into Chamberlain. It was dark by then: deep, country dark, with no remaining hint of afterglow. When we got off the exit, there was no town, and no signs either. The distant lights seemed a bit denser to the left, so we turned that way. After a few miles the scattered homes turned into a small town with a couple of motels. These were privately owned places that were spiffed up enough to join an association like Best Western – sort of like the older places in Cedar City’s downtown.

The pool looked beautiful, but it had closed at 10. Ben was ticked. I begged a little at the desk, but it was really clear that it was a Mom and Pop operation that didn’t have any overnight staff to close it up after us; we’d be keeping their family up.

We walked into the room, and Ben announced that his phone was gone. I immediately knew it was gone for good, because I’d seen him put in his pocket in the morning. We called it, and got no answer. We looked in the truck for it, and didn’t find it. I called Verizon and had the number suspended. Pity; it was old, but I liked that phone – they don’t make them in that candy bar style any more.

We were bushed. I promised Ben we’d go swimming in the morning before we left, and we went to bed.

Day 8, Saturday, May 31, 2009, A Tragedy, Sue, and a Change of Plans

We woke up well before 8, and got the complimentary breakfast that’s available in all road motels these days.

My plan for the day – again, I’m keeping this secret from Ben in case we need to change plans on the fly – is to go to the Field Museum in Chicago. It’s a big, cool, natural history museum, but most specially it’s the home of Sue – the most complete, and biggest, Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton in existence. Ben and Hope have had a book about Sue since Ben was 4. After that, I just wanted to get past Chicago – DeKalb, Davenport, Rockford, Springfield … someplace like that.

We packed up quickly, but were distracted by two things.

First, while we’re still in the room, Jeff Garrison calls. Jeff was the minister at a church we used to attend in Cedar City. He moved to southwestern Michigan 5 years before. I was shocked. He’d gotten from Mary Jo that we would be passing close. We talked it over and decided that we wouldn’t be passing close enough for a visit – they’re about 100 miles (each way) off our path. I’d thought about this as a sidetrip in the weeks before we left, but it really only made sense if we cut across Canada and Michigan – and I didn’t want to deal with a moving van going through customs. Anyway, we had a good visit.

Second, packing was easy, but dealing with a 10 year-old wasn’t always easy. This morning, I took a load out to the truck and told Ben to wait in the room. But … he got nervous. So he grabbed a load of stuff and brought it out to me. So, after a little lecture that it was really important for him to follow directions, I asked him if the room was clear, He said that it was. I went in and briefly double-checked, and we hit the road.

I was getting nervous about distances and time again. We’d stopped early the night before, so we had a lot of Ohio to cover that I wasn’t part of my plan. And the museum’s last admission is at 4 PM.

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So we drive, under cloudy but not threatening skies, and the miles slip by. I skipped another potential sidetrip here – getting off the interstate in the Toledo suburbs to visit my friends Dave Black and Mike Dowd from graduate school. The timing was right to call them for an early lunch, but I didn’t want to potentially miss the Field Museum. When we passed by Toledo, away went our last views of Lake Erie in the distance.

We’d been on the road close to 2 hours when Ben announced we’d have to turn around (he’s 10, and doesn’t quite get the gravity of that suggestion). He’s left the stuffed wolf he bought as his only souvenir of Canada in his bed in the hotel in Milan. Frankly, I didn’t remember him bringing it in, and when he said the room was clear I was too inclined to believe him. He was pretty sure it was in the covers of his bed.

I said we were not turning around for a $15 stuffed animal, but that at the next service area, we’d check the back of the truck, and if it wasn’t there we’d call the hotel. It wasn’t in the truck, so I called, the manager checked with the staff, and there was no wolf to mail home to Utah. I left my cellphone number with the manager.

We never saw that wolf again. I’m more upset about it than Ben is. I even tried to order one from the store when I got back to Utah, and they wouldn’t ship me one. And … I hadn’t left a tip for the maid when we checked out. I didn’t make that mistake again.

It wasn’t a good morning for Ben. After a little bit of Indiana, he announces that he doesn’t have the headphones for his Nintendo. I remind him that I packed them in Utah, and he hadn’t used them yet on the trip. But, he looks, and can’t find them. So, we make a deal: we’ll stop at a service area and I’ll buy headphones, if we find his when we get to Utah, he has to pay me for the new ones. It turns out that he likes the new headphones better than the old ones, but when the latter turned up in our luggage in Utah, I took the money out of his souvenir budget.

Otherwise, Indiana is boring. I remember three things. First, was all the closed auto plants – huge complexes with enormous parking lots, almost completely empty. The second, was the anti-Obama billboards. This was around the time that Obama (who is pro-choice) was speaking at the Notre Dame commencement, and a lot of pro-life alumni were ticked. You didn’t hear it in the legacy media, but there were many billboards in Indiana dissing Obama for coming and Notre Dame for having him. There were no billboards putting a positive spin on this. The third thing was these new trees that started appearing in stands by the road, usually mixed in with other trees: they were tall and straight, and had either leaves or flowers at the top that were a pale whitish yellow. We continued to see them until we left Illinois the next day.

Other than the two stops, we made excellent time across Ohio and Indiana, and even into south Chicago, by eating snacks in the truck and putting off gas and bathroom breaks. All told, we covered about 300 miles, and got off the interstate in downtown Chicago about 2:30. From there it was an easy drive to the Field Museum on the lake shore. Parking was a different story. Finally, I played chicken with a parking ramp. This got an attendant’s attention. He walked out to the truck, told us we couldn’t park there, but he did give us directions to where we could park. It wasn’t close: on the other side of Soldier Field, about a mile away. We drove there, and it was perfect: a big, empty, attended lot, with no height restrictions. I think it’s one of the places they allow campers full of tailgaters for Bears’ games. So we park, and walk back.

I’m still worried about time, because it’s 3:15 when we get to the museum. But, at the desk, I realize we’re now in central time, so we have an extra hour that I hadn’t accounted for. Three hours isn’t great for a big museum, but it’s excellent for a 10 year-old who deserves a long break. My stress melted away.

We go see Sue first. She’s in the center of the main hall, and she’s big and cool (I think we both were not amazed because we’ve seen so many dinosaur skeletons over the years).

We came off the elevator on the wrong floor, so our first view of Sue was from above.

Sue. I found her less impressive than other dinosaurs I’ve seen because the room she was in was so big and airy.

They know that birds are dinosaurs because skeletons like this one have a wishbone.

Sue’s butt.

They have a faux head on the body, and the real one in glass case upstairs so that you can get a closer look.

Then we went to an series of galleries which housed the Whydah.  This has been written up in National Geographic: this is a pirate ship that sank off Cape Cod early in the 18th century, and has only recently been recovered and put on display. This exhibit was big, and really cool, but very popular and congested. We lost each other in the crowd for a few seconds here and there. Like all special exhibits, there’s a dedicated gift store at the end, and Ben liked that.

The Blackhawks had been knocked out of the playoffs earlier in the week, but this jersey was still on display.

Too bad it wasn’t real.

Ben knew what a coelacanth was, but he’d never seen one up close.

Hieroglyphics

Mummy

Mummies

We checked out most of the rest of the museum, but what Ben really liked – and which surprised me a little – were the mummies and other Egyptian artifacts. They had a mock-up of a large Egyptian temple, and an actual smaller one that they’d rebuilt inside the Field. Ben liked the former, I liked the latter: 4,000 years ago, the high technology for a secret room was to have stairs from the inside up to the roof, and then a sealed two-floor stairway that descends through the walls of the first floor to the crypt.

Ben as a barnacle.

I loved these boots, but I couldn’t justify buying them for kids that live in the desert.

Being a big city museum, there were 2 more gift shops to hit … lot of loot. They pushed us out the doors about 5:15 central time.

We were both hungry and thirsty – no lunch today – and again, because it’s a big city museum, it’s in a park with grill. They were out of a bunch of stuff, and they were surly and getting ready to close, but they had hot dogs, and chips, and pop in big cups.

A nice place to picnic.

We sat at a picnic bench with a view of Lake Michigan. It was in the high 70’s – Chicago had a record cold June, and I saw on the internet in early July that this had been the last warm day.

Ben chased seagulls, and blew off some steam.

I put a choice to him. No pressure. If he was hating the drive, and wanted to get home earlier, we could take I-80 west. If the drive was OK, and he liked seeing the sites, we could stay on I-90 and go to Mt. Rushmore. I told him that route would take an extra day, and I’d probably be more stressed about getting home, so we might have to push our driving later in the day. He wanted to know what sites there were along I-80; I had to be honest and say not much. The one big thing is that Celestial Seasonings in Boulder is supposed to have one of the best factory tours for kids. We wouldn’t even have decent mountains unless we dropped down to I-70. I didn’t mention that those were the mountains that had given Bob and me so much trouble in a Ryder truck in 1991. I also didn’t mention that Bob had told me the great thing about I-90 was that the sites were right next to the interstate, and you didn’t lose much time.

Ben took a minute. He’s never impulsive about a big decision. He chose to go I-90.

We’d been calling Mary Jo and Hope every day, sometimes more than once. This was a big decision, so I called her right then. She had a map out and was worried about how much extra distance it would be. I said about 400 miles if we didn’t use the interstates and cut diagonally across Wyoming, Colorado and Utah. She was worried about what sort of time we’d make on U.S. and state highways. I thought we’d make good time – I’ve never had a problem on those roads out west.

Cruising Lake Michigan

The Chicago skyline from the breakwall.

Two videos of Ben frolicking on the beach.

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Ben put the pressure on now. He said I’d gypped him out of seeing Lake Erie, and he wanted to see Lake Michigan. It was right there, so we walked over. Out on to a huge breakwall, around past a marina, and onto a public beach. It was pretty deserted, except for 3 lifeguards, and one of their younger brothers. Ben frolicked, but it was too cold for him to even ask about swimming: up and down the beach, in and out of the water, with shells and without, with sticks and without, followed by seagulls the whole time. I was content to sit and watch. Even though it was Saturday, it was still rush hour in Chicago. About 7 I made him pack it in.

We walked back to the truck. I was having another little panic attack that I couldn’t share with Ben: what if the parking lot was locked? What would I do? Drive through a gate? Call the police? In Chicago? At night? That mile walk was a long 20 minutes. When we got there, the parking lot was deserted, and the gates were down. The great thing about a stadium lot is that there were port-a-potties and dumpsters right there. We took advantage. Then we got in the truck, started her up, and drove to the gate … and its sensor detected us and swung open.

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Off we went, following the signs for I-90, under the El, and over the river. Yes, I told Ben they dyed it green every St. Patrick’s day. Then, up the ramp, and onto I-90 heading northwest.

Ben declared that he hated toll roads. We’d been on them pretty much since we left Buffalo – except for Pennsylvania and part of Ohio. It was worst in Illinois. There were toll booths every 10-20 miles. All the locals had an RFID pass that was read automatically as they sped by. But we had to bear right to go through each barrier, and Ben had to make exact change, or we had to sit in line.

The exits in the center of the road, descending from the elevated interstate to the city streets below, were bugging me too. Those just aren’t friendly to a truck, in a strange place, in heavy traffic.

We made it to Rockford by sunset. The first place we stopped had a few rooms with king-size beds ... the hotel was busy because it was a prom weekend. We took a dip in the indoor pool, and I got some expensive munchies at the front desk.

From the room we called Mary Jo. She was mapping out our route, and wanted to know where we were going to stay the next night. That was the only time I committed to a specific distance. I looked at the map and miles, and optimistically picked Chamberlain, South Dakota – on the Missouri River about halfway across the state.

We settled in to a shared bed, and watched part of Close Encounters of the Third Kind on my laptop. We didn’t finish it, and fell asleep by about 11.

Day 7, Friday, May 30, 2009, Left Late, Chautauqua, Skipped Side Trips

I woke on my own. It was bright out already. Uh-oh.

I got up and found my Mom. She denied agreeing to get me up early. I was sharp enough to be flattered … she wasn’t helping us rush away.

So I took it easy. Ben was still asleep, so I couldn’t pack up his stuff. So, I went out and ran a few useless errands – buying snacks and drinks and other stuff I could just have well done on the road.

When I got back, Mom was making breakfast for Ben – french toast. She pulled out all the stops and made eggs and bacon for both of us too. Ben wasn’t that hungry, so pig that I am, I ate everything.

Since we were running late, and it would be after 10, Mom ran over to Show Productions to pick up the digitized movies. Of course, they weren’t ready. Bob mailed them to me later.

I’m not sure when we were finally ready – 11:30 or so. We said our good-byes to my Mom, and to my parents’ house for the last 24 years (which she sold a few months later).

Ben, just before putting the truck in drive.

Dave, just before putting the truck in drive.

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I had no idea how this was going to go. Ben had never been on a road trip longer than 9 hours before (but he’d done well on all road trips). I’d never driven this far by myself – I’d done two trips of 1-2 thousand miles by myself, but Mary Jo was in another vehicle right by my side. And I was worried about the truck: when my brother and I had driven from Alabama to Utah in 1992, the truck had struggled in the mountains and we lost a lot of time. And I had a soft deadline – 6 days, or I’d have to cancel a class the next Thursday.

So, the plan was to make it as far as we could go. I was thinking that if we'd gotten up early, that we could get into Indiana and stop before dinner. If we were going to make that now, we'd need to drive a lot later into the evening.

I had  bunch of activities in mind for Ben: touristy stuff to break up the monotony. I was keeping him in the dark about all these though: I didn’t want him pressuring me to go to some specific place if we needed to make up time.

The first side trip was Chautauqua Institution.

There was a period from when I was 7 to 13, when there were no kids on my street. As I get older, I tend to regard Chautauqua more as my home during that period: it was there that I had friends outside of school. So I thought it would be a neat place to share with Ben.

So we got off I-90 at Fredonia, headed up the valley to Casadega (which looks better than it did 35 years ago, over the hill to Stocton (which looks worse), over more hills to Hartfield through Mayville (both of which look the same), and down along the lake to Chautauqua.

When I was little, and going to Chautauqua was a long drive, passing this cemetery, and “the ball and square” meant we were almost there. Note the boy’s cool mirrored shades hanging on the handle.

We drove in the Main Gate, down Ramble Ave., Pratt Ave, and Root Ave, and parked by the Gleason - a good spot for a big truck that I'm still getting a feel for.

The Gleason – a guest house that my dad wanted to buy in the late 1960’s. He didn’t – my parents would have probably gotten a divorce if they’d taken on on that kind of business.

We went out and stood on the red footbridge across the ravine where I used to play. I remember when that footbridge went up, just after we bought our house in 1970. We climbed up through the ravine, and I showed Ben the deep pool where I'd throw rocks for big splashes (and he dropped a few in there), the spots where I'd try and build dams, and the skunk cabbage I slashed with a toy sword (I never made that mistake again). I took his to a spot that was loaded with trilobyte fossils in the 1970s, and it was picked clean! We did find a few fossils, but mostly of clams and mussels. Ben thought it was great, but of course, I was a little disappointed. But ... many years of going to fossil museums with our kids has taught me a thing or two, and I did find fossilized wave marks, which is not something I would have recognized as a kid. Some of those fossils decided they’d like to come with us.

Next we walked up Scott Drive. I showed him # 8 - the cottage of our friends the Gardners.

Here is # 10, the cottage my parents owned from 1970 to 1983. And of all things ... it was open and there was someone there. I knocked, and a plumber answered; he was turning on the water for the summer. I asked if I could poke around and take a few pictures, and he said yes.

Looking from the dining room back towards the front door, with Ben in the living room.

 

Looking the other way from the front door into the dining room.

A second floor bedroom. I used to be able to change bedrooms all the time here when I was a kid, but I didn’t choose this one often. When we’d have big family parties, this is where Stannards would sleep.

Ben in the kitchen.

This was Bob’s bedroom, up until he stopped going with us around 1974. I used to sleep in here quite a bit too.

This was my bedroom.

We walked back to the truck, and drove up Morris Ave, and around Bestor Plaza.

We parked by The Bookstore, and went in. This was one of the highlights of our trip: tons of cool stuff to browse through, and gifts to buy for Mary Jo and Hope. I was surprised at the number of politically conservative books they had on display ... they didn't have any back in the Reagan era. We spent about an hour there, and bought a couple of big bags of loot.

Looking from the Bell Tower back towards Miller Park.

Looking up the hill from University Beach.

University Beach – I swam there every day when the water was warm.

Looking across the park towards University Beach.

It was easy to return the way we came, so we went back down Morris Ave. and on down Lakeshore Drive past University Beach. Then up through the newer homes in the north end, past the Packard Mansion, and back Pratt Ave. past the nursery school. We kept going on to where Pratt ends near the Amphitheater. I mentioned it to Ben, but it wasn't going to be easy to park there, so I turned around. He never did see the inside of it.

I took a swan dive off that fountain – for no reason – when I was three.

Then back to the plaza again, and down Miller Ave. to Lakeshore Ave. and parked by the Bell Tower. There used to be a mod 60's style park for kids there - it's been recently removed. We walked around what used to be the College Club, and checked out the deep water in the anchorage. Then we went over towards the Bell Tower. There was a man throwing a ball with 2 Labradors, and Ben played with them a bit.

Just to the west of the Bell Tower, looking east.

On the tip of the point in front of the Bell Tower, looking west.

From the Bell Tower, looking in the direction of the Palestine Park.

Then we walked over to the Palestine Park. If you've never seen this, it's a scale model of the locations mentioned in the bible, sitting on about an acre of land. It was built to help teach geography to sunday school teachers. Like all kids, ben thought this was neat, and ran all over it, checking out the little cities.

Jerusalem

Jacob’s Well – I blew up a firecracker inside a banana stuffed in there once.

Bethlehem

Ben by the Sea of Gallilee

Then we walked down to the lake. Ben has heard of skipping rocks, and this is a prime spot for good skipping stones. He tried, but couldn't get the touch. I skipped a few, but I sensed that he was getting frustrated, so I pushed us onwards.

Back in the truck, we drove south along the lake. All the way down past the girls and boys clubs. Then we turned around, and went back towards the Hall of Philosophy.

Girls club

They've spiffed up the High School Club.

Looking down the red brick walk from the Hall of Philosophy

The arc of the red brick walk across the back of the Hall of Philosophy, going towards Alumni Hall.

The arc of the red brick walk across the back of the Hall of Philosophy, going towards the Hall of Christ.

We'd spent almost 3 hours there, so it was definitely time to get a move on. So I pulled out the Main Gate, and drove southeast to catch the interstate.

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It was getting late in the afternoon, and I really hadn't thought through our next potential stop - the U.S.S. Niagara in Erie Harbor. Again, Ben was in the dark about this. It was 5:30 by the time we got to Erie, and there were no signs directing us where to get off. I finally stopped at a gas station for snacks. There I found out that it was 10 miles behind us, and had probably closed at 5. I kept my mouth shut, and didn't tell Ben.

We forged on, and stopped for gas in Kirtland, Ohio. By the time we got to Cleveland it was drizzling. As we progressed west through the city, the rain got heavier, until we were in a full-fledged summer thunderstorm in late rush-hour traffic. Of all things ... Ben slept through it.

So, I bagged another potential stop. I didn't want to get tied to a plan, but I thought that if I stopped in Cleveland, I'd call up Dave and Melinda Uschold and see if they wanted to meet for an hour. But ... Ben was crashed hard, and we were running late, so I kept driving.

The rain continued to get worse as we headed west. Finally, around 7 PM, I figured I may as well just stop for dinner, and maybe it will blow away. So we pulled into a rest area. Kudos to Ohio - they have awesome rest areas on the turnpike. We got food from different places in the food court, I got a coffee, and we sat down.

I'd wanted to get a lot further today - perhaps into Indiana. But, it seemed like a good time to ask Ben how he felt: stop now or drive some more. He was pretty neutral, but was looking forward to a hotel pool, so we bagged it for the day. We got back on I-80/90, and drove to the next exit with a decent motel sign, and stopped for the night in Milan, Ohio.

The hotel was nice, but the parking lot smelled from the agribusiness across the road.

Sunset on Day 1 … we were trying to get a photo of some pretty birds in the marsh beyond the parking lot.

Ben with his new loot from the Chautauqua Bookstore.

The cool thing about moving with a truck that has a lot of empty space in it, and empty boxes waiting to be used, is that you can put everything you need for one night in a couple of boxes by the door of truck. So, we opened up the truck, grabbed an armload, and made it inside in one trip. Ben adopted the job of closing the big door on the truck, setting the latch, and locking it.

The first hotel room of a road trip is always a bit crazy, so our stuff got scattered quickly. We went to the pool, which was warm, and empty. We went back in around 9:30. I broke out the copy of Settlers of Catan I'd bought last week, and we played for a while. We had fun, but we quickly realized it was a game for more than 2 people. We packed it up and went to bed around 11.