Greetings! We have continued our travels past the 54th parallel. Look on a map and you will see how far north we have come. We have visited four small Manitoban communities, each one a little farther north…Dauphin, Swan River, The Pas, and Flin Flon (don’t you love that name?) We enjoyed their people, their food, and their industries. We are, however, in a bit of a time warp. The phones and broadband card are not available. Wifi is becoming more difficult to find. We have resumed our trips to the local libraries to check email and pay bills etc. The weather has been quite nice. Usually it is sunny around 70 degrees in the daytime and in the upper 50’s at night. There have been some thunder storms, but nothing that sticks around very long. Yes, the bugs are bad, but with the right clothes and insect repellant you survive. The flowers remind me of Alaska. Each community decorates their town with lots of colorful hanging baskets and curbside gardens. Their season isn’t long but with the extra daylight the flowers thrive. As I type right now, it is a little after 10:00 p.m. and dusk has just fallen. It just doesn’t seem quite right to go to bed when it is still light, but we are so busy that we rarely have trouble falling asleep. The climax of our trip is coming up this week when we fly to Churchill, Manitoba which is located on the Hudson Bay…hopefully to see beluga whales and just perhaps a polar bear or two. Tune in next week to hear all about it.
And now from your Roving Reporter (who in my mind repeats himself a bit, but oh well!)….
This caravan is quite different from our two past experiences. First, the people. We are a small group of experienced caravaners. This is our third, and we are relative newcomers. Several, including our leader, have been on more than a dozen caravans throughout North America. Thus everyone understands how this travel experience works and pitches in to make the trip a memorable experience. Age averages from late 60s through mid 70s. All were professionals in their former life. Two are full time travelers and several others might as well be given the number of days they camp each year. Eight Airstream motor coaches [a large number for this type of experience]; the balance are trailers like ours. The tin cans run from 25 feet to 34 feet – we at 28 are among the smallest. For the novice, that means home is 280 square feet. The group is small, 21 couples, and that means we all know and enjoy each other’s company now. Our wardrobe is limited but no one comments when it’s the third time they have seen my fishing shirt. You would be surprise how few clothes you really need. Wear it, wash it and wear it. I smiled when one of our new friends told Sally that she burned her few caravan clothes when she returned home. But I digress from the main point. This is a tight group. Many of us know other couples from past trips, so this caravan is a bit like a family reunion and in this case a reunion without black sheep. No grouches…no sea anchors… It make a great time terrific.
The second difference is equally profound. Its 180 degrees out. In the past we traveled most days. It was up early, pile in the car and travel most of the day. As we drove down the road we found lots to see and scenery to absorb. On arrival we ate dinner, had a drivers meeting and hit the feathers. Up and repeat the process. Not this trip. Most days we leave at a respectable hour and drive a short distance. We only go around 50 miles/hour. The scenery is stark, a beauty all of its own, but a little goes a long way. Brilliant canola yellow and blue flax fields at first a joy quickly tire. A boreal forest is made up of green trees.. Lots of green trees. Hundreds of thousands of hecters of green. Wild life only live in the national forest. No I cannot explain that observation, but with the exception of a pelican and a hand full of loons, that has been accurate. So we are lazy travelers who drive very short distances. Once we arrive, we flop for two or three days. Each day we visit all manner of local people doing their thing. I attended Cree language class, watched fire engines built, learned about a 28 family community whose foundation is socialism, made and tasted 198 proof ethanol, and harvested and cut a million board of lumber all in less than 10 days. People up here are wonderful and like all they take great pride in telling you about their life and work they love. They are young and life is harsh – the mean high in Jan is 1 degree F. People my age from Manitoba visit Florida. After a visit – remember fish, relatives and Airstream smell after three days – we move on down the road 3 or 4 hours.
Sign of the week. I had a real winner, but Sally and the city fathers would not allow me to publish the text. The message appeared outside of a local watering hole and was intended to draw a crowd for a certain kind of contest. And a crowd it drew if nothing else to check out the text. It lasted only a few hours Saturday evening before it was replaced. So, this week you get the second place winner. “NEW AND IMPROVED … GOVERNMENT APPROVED … BLACK DIRT … ON SALE.
Hurray. I believe I found a free lunch. Sarah, I apologize for all those time I told you that there was no such thing. For in fact it just might be possible to get something for nothing. It works like this. We arrived in The Pas and camped in the parking lot of a First Nation reservation Casino [no electricity, water or sewer. No campground in town and no parking lot large enough to accommodate 21 recreation vehicles.] They welcomed us and said if we would stop in we would receive credit to pay the slot machines. No free lunch I thought but it was worth a check. The lady explained we received $5 credit on a credit card. In addition it was senior’s nite so we earned an additional $10, $15 total. All you had to do was to insert $5. No free lunch, right. She assured me I could cash out any time and get my $5 back. What the heck, it’s only $5 and they had penny machines. I followed the directions and sure enough the machine told me I had five cash and 15 credit. One pull… five cash and 14.99 credit. No winner. Four more pulls. Five cash and 14.95 credit. So far so good. Pull six…bingo! A winner…Cash 5.01 and 14.95 credit. Hummm. Winnings went to cash and losses were withdrawn from credit. This was something I could learn to like. On to the two cent machine. Two hours later, credit equaled zero. But, but get this: cash was 26.43! I stopped. Maybe there is a free lunch in very unusual cases.
(P.S. I didn’t do as well, but did come home with $5.00 extra!)
Monday, July 27, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Greetings from Canada
Since I last wrote, we have crossed the border into our neighboring country. The crossing was quick, no waiting, and very few questions. The guard did mention that we might want to sign our new passports! We will spend the rest of the caravan in Manitoba, Canada. For a geography lesson, Manitoba is the province located directly north of Minnesota and North Dakota and stretches way up to the Hudson Bay. We have visited two communities so far…Dauphin and Swan River. The RR will tell you about our traveling so far. In my perspective, the most notable subject about the route is the fields and fields of bright yellow canola. When it is mature, the yellow is almost so bright it hurts your eyes. And then across one stretch, there were also fields of flax blooming a deep periwinkle blue. The contrast was awesome. The communities have been welcoming and hospitable. For instance yesterday we visited the local museum where they had gathered buildings…school, church, store, etc from the past. They served homemade bread made in clay ovens with fresh local honey. Needless to say that was delicious. They had extra bread for sale, and when we mentioned how good the honey was, they made a call and lo and behold, this morning the young niece of the honey producer showed up at our camp ground with honey to sell…wildflower or canola, your choice. See what I mean? Our cell phones and broadband card are turned off until we return to the states. Our Onstar phone remains as our last link…oh yes, and WiFi when we can get it. They tell us that this is the end of the prairie and so from here north the geography will become much more interesting…and perhaps some fishing too!
Till next time…here are some thoughts and observations from your Roving Reporter:
We have had the good fortune to visit a number of interesting churches on this trip. As expected, families who migrated from where ever, often to avoid religious persecution, start a congregation on arrival, and then a building followed quickly. Now I have been inside just all manner of churches from the old country, Europe and Russia. One thing they have in common. The pews. They are extremely uncomfortable. No sleeping; only the possibility of a back ache if you slouch or doze! As in Newfoundland, perhaps they [churches not pews] foretell the future in small American communities. So many facilities have closed. The congregation failed to sustain its numbership and as the group aged they could not support the facility. To complicate the challenges, the number of clergy also declined. The small buildings dot the landscape…a statement to what once was. Others are given to philanthropic groups to share history and explain what was so important or occasionally they house something new…a home, a business, etc.
In Manitoba, every community is proud of its history, and a young history it is north of Winnipeg. Typically towns were founded in 1880 to 1890. Folks moved north because the land was inexpensive and the soil rich. But they found there is no free lunch. The winters up here are brutal. Temperatures plummet to 40 below and the wind blows. The local museums tell the story of the hardships. What struck me? The old “stuff” are the items of my grandparents and my youth! I am not old, I thought, so why are these common household items in a museum. Yesterday it was paper milk bottle caps, skates you clamped to your shoes, Remington typewriters, and dresses Sally wore when we courted. Rotary phones on a party line – remember? For everyone on the caravan, it has been a trip down memory lane. No Sarah, I did not pick up Nana for a trip to the Tiger’s Den in a Conastoga Wagon. I guess 70 is old and 100 is ancient to these Manitobians.
Caravan travel this time is quite different. In the past (Alaska and New Foundland), we got up, left about 8:00 AM and drove most of a day. Along the drive we stopped to visit sites and sample cinnamon buns. The scenery was special, and around each bend there was something awaiting a visitor. Not in Manitoba. Yes we are up and off by 8:00 to 8:30 but we drive directly to our destination. Typically we drive from one camp site to the next. Sometimes we drive 110 miles; sometimes it is 240 miles. We go direct and we are expected to move along smartly. We do not race – 55 is the typical speed – a couple trailers in group separated by miles. When you arrive we stay several days and then move again to a new location. There is nothing to see while driving – not even traffic to speak of – between stops. Yesterday, for example, our traveling partner reported seeing only 6 cars and one truck in 100 miles. Think western Dakotas. It is flat
Till next time…here are some thoughts and observations from your Roving Reporter:
We have had the good fortune to visit a number of interesting churches on this trip. As expected, families who migrated from where ever, often to avoid religious persecution, start a congregation on arrival, and then a building followed quickly. Now I have been inside just all manner of churches from the old country, Europe and Russia. One thing they have in common. The pews. They are extremely uncomfortable. No sleeping; only the possibility of a back ache if you slouch or doze! As in Newfoundland, perhaps they [churches not pews] foretell the future in small American communities. So many facilities have closed. The congregation failed to sustain its numbership and as the group aged they could not support the facility. To complicate the challenges, the number of clergy also declined. The small buildings dot the landscape…a statement to what once was. Others are given to philanthropic groups to share history and explain what was so important or occasionally they house something new…a home, a business, etc.
In Manitoba, every community is proud of its history, and a young history it is north of Winnipeg. Typically towns were founded in 1880 to 1890. Folks moved north because the land was inexpensive and the soil rich. But they found there is no free lunch. The winters up here are brutal. Temperatures plummet to 40 below and the wind blows. The local museums tell the story of the hardships. What struck me? The old “stuff” are the items of my grandparents and my youth! I am not old, I thought, so why are these common household items in a museum. Yesterday it was paper milk bottle caps, skates you clamped to your shoes, Remington typewriters, and dresses Sally wore when we courted. Rotary phones on a party line – remember? For everyone on the caravan, it has been a trip down memory lane. No Sarah, I did not pick up Nana for a trip to the Tiger’s Den in a Conastoga Wagon. I guess 70 is old and 100 is ancient to these Manitobians.
Caravan travel this time is quite different. In the past (Alaska and New Foundland), we got up, left about 8:00 AM and drove most of a day. Along the drive we stopped to visit sites and sample cinnamon buns. The scenery was special, and around each bend there was something awaiting a visitor. Not in Manitoba. Yes we are up and off by 8:00 to 8:30 but we drive directly to our destination. Typically we drive from one camp site to the next. Sometimes we drive 110 miles; sometimes it is 240 miles. We go direct and we are expected to move along smartly. We do not race – 55 is the typical speed – a couple trailers in group separated by miles. When you arrive we stay several days and then move again to a new location. There is nothing to see while driving – not even traffic to speak of – between stops. Yesterday, for example, our traveling partner reported seeing only 6 cars and one truck in 100 miles. Think western Dakotas. It is flat
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Farewell USA
We’re posting this blog because tomorrow we are entering Canada. The majority of our email transmissions have taken place on our Verizon broadband card. That will end tomorrow as we lose Verizon capability. We will have to rely on finding WIFI which hopefully will be frequently available. We have driven north…I told you we would be saying that a lot…across the northern plains…few small towns…lots of corn, wheat, soy beans, and today sunflowers and canola. The Canadian adventure begins tomorrow as we cross the border (sometimes more exciting than others) and head for our first Canadian campground in Dauphine, Manitoba. Anyway, don’t worry if you don’t hear from us for a while. On the other hand, we may be back sooner than you think.
And now from our Roving Reporter:
As Patton said, “Americans are winners!” We just cannot tolerate being second. Remember in kindergarten, you had to be first in line. And later we learned, second is like kissing your sister. And as I travel, it is the FIRST national bank. And, the FIRST Presbyterian Church. Never have I seen the Second Methodist Church. And communities are competitors. I have already been to the popcorn capital of the world located in southern Illinois, the ice cream capital of the US – that’s in the Ozarks, and the pheasant capital of the world, on the road north of the corn palace. Rugby, ND claims to be the geographical center of North America. This is the land of the jolly green giant, but I missed him. I think I’ll stake my claim: I have the only yellow Labrador retriever who has ridden backward in a Suburban to both Alaska and Newfoundland.
In the ‘65 Mustang, I had Sally get a map and we took off. The map was free from the local “filling station” in Macomb, Illinois. Prep took seconds. Off we traveled down the state highway toward our destination. Not today pulling the Airstream! Nuvi [GPS] on? Check. Destination set? Check. Break controller? On. Break Lights. Red. Right signal…left signal…hazard? Blinking. Head lights. PC on? Check. Satellite acquired? Paper maps on the dash. Kindle. Tire pressure monitor on. Trailer TV antenna down. Stair step up. Then you pull up to a caravan “deparker team” for a safety examination and a communication check, a seven step process. CB on chanel 14. Walki-talki on 5? .. Driver manual in hand. Milage odometer reset to zero. Dog? Wife? We’re off down the road toward our destination. Anything different? Not really. Just 40 years passed down the interstate.
Sign of the Week. Entering a small SD prairie town, I read: EAT BEEF, WEAR FUR, KEEP GUNS, SALUTE AMERICA
On completion of this trip, surely I will receive a certificate from a learned university for three semester credit hours in general studies. Thus far I have attended classes in ethanol production, Huddites communal living, prairie water treatment, early prairie development, grist mill operations, and Auguste Rodin. And we have only been caravanning for one week!
And now from our Roving Reporter:
As Patton said, “Americans are winners!” We just cannot tolerate being second. Remember in kindergarten, you had to be first in line. And later we learned, second is like kissing your sister. And as I travel, it is the FIRST national bank. And, the FIRST Presbyterian Church. Never have I seen the Second Methodist Church. And communities are competitors. I have already been to the popcorn capital of the world located in southern Illinois, the ice cream capital of the US – that’s in the Ozarks, and the pheasant capital of the world, on the road north of the corn palace. Rugby, ND claims to be the geographical center of North America. This is the land of the jolly green giant, but I missed him. I think I’ll stake my claim: I have the only yellow Labrador retriever who has ridden backward in a Suburban to both Alaska and Newfoundland.
In the ‘65 Mustang, I had Sally get a map and we took off. The map was free from the local “filling station” in Macomb, Illinois. Prep took seconds. Off we traveled down the state highway toward our destination. Not today pulling the Airstream! Nuvi [GPS] on? Check. Destination set? Check. Break controller? On. Break Lights. Red. Right signal…left signal…hazard? Blinking. Head lights. PC on? Check. Satellite acquired? Paper maps on the dash. Kindle. Tire pressure monitor on. Trailer TV antenna down. Stair step up. Then you pull up to a caravan “deparker team” for a safety examination and a communication check, a seven step process. CB on chanel 14. Walki-talki on 5? .. Driver manual in hand. Milage odometer reset to zero. Dog? Wife? We’re off down the road toward our destination. Anything different? Not really. Just 40 years passed down the interstate.
Sign of the Week. Entering a small SD prairie town, I read: EAT BEEF, WEAR FUR, KEEP GUNS, SALUTE AMERICA
On completion of this trip, surely I will receive a certificate from a learned university for three semester credit hours in general studies. Thus far I have attended classes in ethanol production, Huddites communal living, prairie water treatment, early prairie development, grist mill operations, and Auguste Rodin. And we have only been caravanning for one week!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Across the prairie
And the caravan adventure begins…A week ago, we traveled along the Missouri River north to Sioux Falls, SD where we met our 42 Airstream traveling companions. They come from all over the USA…Florida, California, Connecticut, Iowa, Texas and Ohio…and of course Virginia. Two of the couples are full timers…in other words, they are homeless except for their Airstreams. We have 22 rigs…all kinds…trailers big and small and motor homes large and gigantic. We spent four days in Sioux Falls exploring with the gang and by ourselves. You will hear about some the adventures from the Roving Reporter. We were impressed with this prairie town and felt very welcome. We are now in Aberdeen, SD, our second caravan stop. We drove through Mitchell SD on the way to once again see the Corn Palace…one of those sights that just can’t be missed. Then we headed north across the heart of the prairie…very few towns and lots of corn, wheat and beans. Aberdeen again is a much more interesting town than we have ever imagined…if we had ever even thought about Aberdeen which we probably hadn’t. We continue to enjoy being with our friends, Pat and Bob Collins, and others from former caravans, and also meeting new friends from new places. We are in the younger end of the age spectrum of the group and one of the least traveled…at least if you are counting caravans. But each couple brings their experiences and expertise to the group making for an interesting social atmosphere. Wednesday our travels continue north (as they will do for several weeks) first to North Dakota and then into Manitoba. As busy as we are, our thoughts frequently turn home to friends and family. We are only an email away. Please keep in touch.
And now prepare yourself for some random thoughts from the Roving Reporter.
Eternity Defined. Sometimes it is a challenge to define words. And, something that seemingly lasts forever is one such word. So I have looked for examples – that is what we do, right. My non-stop flight from Hawaii to Australia takes an eternity. I found yet another. About 2000 friends and we took the trailer and chased the path taken by Lewis and Clark. We followed the Missouri River up the Iowa/Nebraska boarder. The road surface through the prairie changed little since L & C, and I declared at the time, Interstate 29 is one of the worst roads in America. Still is! But there is hope. Here almost 10 years later, they have started repair with an estimated 10 year completion date. It has taken them an eternity. I wonder what that says about the Stimulus Package?
Cycle Nite today. In Sioux Falls they substitute cycles for old cars. They expect over 1,000 bikes this evening. Park you chopper and hang out. Look. Stroll. No riding or slow trolling. Made me want to run right out and purchase Sally a wardrobe of leather. Want to attend?
By now you know we prefer to travel back country roads through bitty towns. They have a charm all their own. It’s America. Countless American flags. Small churches [where we often borrow their parking lots for lunch]. When we are dismounted and see folks, they smile and say “hi, can we help” They always wave when they see the silver beer can passing them on the road. Down home folks scratching out a living. It finally dawned on me, there are not any foreclosure signs. No homes for sale. No for sale placards. No reduced price. They seem to have purchased what they needed and could afford and then paid their bills. Seems there is a lesson to be learned out here in the heart land.
Often people get a funny look and inquire, “Why do you caravan with your trailer?” Here is one answer. How else would you get to Lyons, SD, pop 157, located down the road from absolutely nowhere. There we meet a young energetic plant manager who took a break from his hectic schedule so he could personally take us on a tour of “his” plant. Proudly he and his staff of local men and women hand build fire engines, one at a time. His product sells for200K to $1M … and for that you may select any one of the over 700 colors of red.
I passed the sign. Hummm. A challenge. I wonder, I thought, can I? But I am approaching 69, so should I even try? Why not! The little engine said I think I can so I hitched up my jeans, spit on the hands and gave my hands a brisk rub, palm to palm. Heavy breaths. I am ready. Straight back. Remember use the legs. I firmly grasped and tugged. Wow. Not enough power. I visualized I was the Green Hulk and revved my engine to 110%. My face turned red. Yes, a slow start and then progress. A millimeter. Two. A half inch. Success. I JUST LIFTED A NEW CAR, a 2,500 pound compact. Really. OK, now you want to know how. Sarah’s former 3rd grade class would know immediately. I used a simple machine located outside a former high school now a municipal cultural arts and science center. One area was set aside for kids, and since I am still a kid at heart, I could not help but participate. Incidentally it was the same facility that had a world class collection of Rodin sculptures.
Culinary Sign of the Week. “ETHOPIAN FOOD and Take Out . We service lap tops”
And now prepare yourself for some random thoughts from the Roving Reporter.
Eternity Defined. Sometimes it is a challenge to define words. And, something that seemingly lasts forever is one such word. So I have looked for examples – that is what we do, right. My non-stop flight from Hawaii to Australia takes an eternity. I found yet another. About 2000 friends and we took the trailer and chased the path taken by Lewis and Clark. We followed the Missouri River up the Iowa/Nebraska boarder. The road surface through the prairie changed little since L & C, and I declared at the time, Interstate 29 is one of the worst roads in America. Still is! But there is hope. Here almost 10 years later, they have started repair with an estimated 10 year completion date. It has taken them an eternity. I wonder what that says about the Stimulus Package?
Cycle Nite today. In Sioux Falls they substitute cycles for old cars. They expect over 1,000 bikes this evening. Park you chopper and hang out. Look. Stroll. No riding or slow trolling. Made me want to run right out and purchase Sally a wardrobe of leather. Want to attend?
By now you know we prefer to travel back country roads through bitty towns. They have a charm all their own. It’s America. Countless American flags. Small churches [where we often borrow their parking lots for lunch]. When we are dismounted and see folks, they smile and say “hi, can we help” They always wave when they see the silver beer can passing them on the road. Down home folks scratching out a living. It finally dawned on me, there are not any foreclosure signs. No homes for sale. No for sale placards. No reduced price. They seem to have purchased what they needed and could afford and then paid their bills. Seems there is a lesson to be learned out here in the heart land.
Often people get a funny look and inquire, “Why do you caravan with your trailer?” Here is one answer. How else would you get to Lyons, SD, pop 157, located down the road from absolutely nowhere. There we meet a young energetic plant manager who took a break from his hectic schedule so he could personally take us on a tour of “his” plant. Proudly he and his staff of local men and women hand build fire engines, one at a time. His product sells for200K to $1M … and for that you may select any one of the over 700 colors of red.
I passed the sign. Hummm. A challenge. I wonder, I thought, can I? But I am approaching 69, so should I even try? Why not! The little engine said I think I can so I hitched up my jeans, spit on the hands and gave my hands a brisk rub, palm to palm. Heavy breaths. I am ready. Straight back. Remember use the legs. I firmly grasped and tugged. Wow. Not enough power. I visualized I was the Green Hulk and revved my engine to 110%. My face turned red. Yes, a slow start and then progress. A millimeter. Two. A half inch. Success. I JUST LIFTED A NEW CAR, a 2,500 pound compact. Really. OK, now you want to know how. Sarah’s former 3rd grade class would know immediately. I used a simple machine located outside a former high school now a municipal cultural arts and science center. One area was set aside for kids, and since I am still a kid at heart, I could not help but participate. Incidentally it was the same facility that had a world class collection of Rodin sculptures.
Culinary Sign of the Week. “ETHOPIAN FOOD and Take Out . We service lap tops”
Monday, July 6, 2009
Stage 1 and Serious Fishing
Greetings from Missouri. We hope you will enjoy following us along on our 09’summer adventure. My job is to keep you informed of the where and when of our trip. My Roving Reporter has already set the tone for his contributions. I just warn you to only believe a small proportion of his tales. This trip can really be divided into three stages. Stage 1, the first two weeks of travel, is almost finished. We left the Shenandoah Valley on the 22nd of June. We spent a day at home in Urbana on business and enjoyed a lovely dinner with Mom and Dad Walters’ friends at Clarke Lindsey Village. Leaving Urbana behind, we drove south past small towns from childhood memories all the way to Cave In Rock State Park in southern Illinois on the Ohio River. If you remember, that was the week of the unbelievably temperatures. We explored in the mornings and hunkered in the AC the rest of the day. Finally the weather broke and we began the next leg on a ferry across the river to Kentucky. We dawdled across northwest Kentucky, crossed the Mississippi River, and continued our journey through southeastern Missouri. For the next week we camped in three different Missouri State parks. Daisy and I walked, Chucked fished, and we enjoyed a canoe trip together. We met our camping friends, Bob and Pat Collins, as planned, in the third park. We spent the 4th of July weekend sharing fishing and good food with them. Tomorrow we will all be traveling north to meet the group of campers that will form the Airstream caravan that we are taking to Churchill, Manitoba. The rendezvous is set for Sioux Falls, SD on July 8th. That will certainly be the most adventurous stage of the trip. Hopefully we will have internet capability as we travel so that we can keep you up to date. I see we have added the Hansons and Germans to our followers. This blogging is another fun part of the adventure. I urge everyone to keep in touch.
And from your Roving Reporter. Actually it is your “Wading Reporter.” I spare no effort or expense to bring you the strange stuff found as we travel America. And this is no exception. I located the home of the serious fisherman. The very serious fisherman. Sally found a state park in the Ozarks that offered fly fishing opportunities, but little did I know. For those of you uninitiated to the Ozarks, it is located in the middle of nowhere Missouri, miles from anywhere and founded by folks from the hills of West Virginia. In two days travel, the largest community stretched to reach 2,000 and the only critters I saw were mules and burrows. But reach the park we did and I gasped when I rounded the final turn… a beautiful waterfall dotted with fisherman waving sticks. My kind of place I thought. Then I started counting the sportsmen. Five…Ten…Fifteen…Twenty. We pulled in to the campground – it was time for self registration – and started to look for a site. Hummm. Every camp site had a clothes line with waders and hip boots. Picnic tables were covered with drying boots. Poles – cane, spinning and fly were tilted bristling from vehicles.. Men were seated rigging in prep…rather like mending nets. This is a serious fishing crowd. We found our spot and departed for registration. I inquired about trout fishing and was sent to the camp store for all the proper licenses. An ABC store in Virginia requires less documentation to open for business but I purchased an annual out of state license and a local park pass. I was ready. After all, this was not my first time fishing. Sally took me to the stream. Oh my goodness. A human was posted every five to ten yards. Old folks. I met a elderly gentleman who brought his metal chair and plopped it mid-stream and commenced fly fishing. I saw a gal with a walker. There were kids not yet in school. There was a dad with a baby in his arms. Everyone looked at me as if I were fishing without pants. Of course serious fishermen and women have to have a uniform. I didn’t. I thought of George Orwell. Each march to the stream with official Orvis chest waders, a dead grass green Exofficio fishing shirt, boots, a landing net fastened to the back, sun glasses on a lanyard. No staff. Head gear type was optional but covering required. That park daily fishing pass? It must be affixed to the back of the hat. Next I examined the quest. Each was a precisely 12.5 inches. I learned later 2.25 fish were released each day for every daily permit tag sold. Only on site hatchery grown rainbow trout. You could catch and keep 4. Now I thought, how will I know when to start. I heard the answer at precisely 0630. I shot straight up in bed. My GOD we are under attack!. Where is the air raid shelter? Two blasts on the siren (start fishing. start fishing). I am late. They are starting without me. I met folks walking home with their stringer, and I greeted them with a friendly “Good Morning” and commented on their good fortune. Scowl. Serious fishermen do not communicate. As I approached the water I discovered serious fisherman do not allow water recreation on their trout streams. The sign shouted: No swimming. No boating. No pets. No nothing. We are serious about our fishing. We also classify our serious folks: fly, artificial and anything goes. Pressure. Stress. Will I pass the test? Would I measure up to the standard, serious fisherman? I don’t know. While I was driving up the road, I thought maybe it doesn’t make any difference. After all, I caught my personal best rainbow, over 16 inches. But I could not shake the question of being serious, a serious fisherman. Had I found the meca of serious fishing? It just keep nagging at me. The next park hocked the answer when I rounded the curve and there was the stream, the water fall, the combat fishermen standing shoulder to shoulder, the fly only zone, and the signs. Is this ground hog day? Did I miss a turn in my travel? Nope. I learned there are four serious trout fishing parks. Folks take their fishing seriously in Missouri.
And from your Roving Reporter. Actually it is your “Wading Reporter.” I spare no effort or expense to bring you the strange stuff found as we travel America. And this is no exception. I located the home of the serious fisherman. The very serious fisherman. Sally found a state park in the Ozarks that offered fly fishing opportunities, but little did I know. For those of you uninitiated to the Ozarks, it is located in the middle of nowhere Missouri, miles from anywhere and founded by folks from the hills of West Virginia. In two days travel, the largest community stretched to reach 2,000 and the only critters I saw were mules and burrows. But reach the park we did and I gasped when I rounded the final turn… a beautiful waterfall dotted with fisherman waving sticks. My kind of place I thought. Then I started counting the sportsmen. Five…Ten…Fifteen…Twenty. We pulled in to the campground – it was time for self registration – and started to look for a site. Hummm. Every camp site had a clothes line with waders and hip boots. Picnic tables were covered with drying boots. Poles – cane, spinning and fly were tilted bristling from vehicles.. Men were seated rigging in prep…rather like mending nets. This is a serious fishing crowd. We found our spot and departed for registration. I inquired about trout fishing and was sent to the camp store for all the proper licenses. An ABC store in Virginia requires less documentation to open for business but I purchased an annual out of state license and a local park pass. I was ready. After all, this was not my first time fishing. Sally took me to the stream. Oh my goodness. A human was posted every five to ten yards. Old folks. I met a elderly gentleman who brought his metal chair and plopped it mid-stream and commenced fly fishing. I saw a gal with a walker. There were kids not yet in school. There was a dad with a baby in his arms. Everyone looked at me as if I were fishing without pants. Of course serious fishermen and women have to have a uniform. I didn’t. I thought of George Orwell. Each march to the stream with official Orvis chest waders, a dead grass green Exofficio fishing shirt, boots, a landing net fastened to the back, sun glasses on a lanyard. No staff. Head gear type was optional but covering required. That park daily fishing pass? It must be affixed to the back of the hat. Next I examined the quest. Each was a precisely 12.5 inches. I learned later 2.25 fish were released each day for every daily permit tag sold. Only on site hatchery grown rainbow trout. You could catch and keep 4. Now I thought, how will I know when to start. I heard the answer at precisely 0630. I shot straight up in bed. My GOD we are under attack!. Where is the air raid shelter? Two blasts on the siren (start fishing. start fishing). I am late. They are starting without me. I met folks walking home with their stringer, and I greeted them with a friendly “Good Morning” and commented on their good fortune. Scowl. Serious fishermen do not communicate. As I approached the water I discovered serious fisherman do not allow water recreation on their trout streams. The sign shouted: No swimming. No boating. No pets. No nothing. We are serious about our fishing. We also classify our serious folks: fly, artificial and anything goes. Pressure. Stress. Will I pass the test? Would I measure up to the standard, serious fisherman? I don’t know. While I was driving up the road, I thought maybe it doesn’t make any difference. After all, I caught my personal best rainbow, over 16 inches. But I could not shake the question of being serious, a serious fisherman. Had I found the meca of serious fishing? It just keep nagging at me. The next park hocked the answer when I rounded the curve and there was the stream, the water fall, the combat fishermen standing shoulder to shoulder, the fly only zone, and the signs. Is this ground hog day? Did I miss a turn in my travel? Nope. I learned there are four serious trout fishing parks. Folks take their fishing seriously in Missouri.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Willy's Song
On the road again. Yes, it’s great to be on the road again!” Willy sang it so well. We are off on our third grand summer adventure and on this blog plan to share with you the ins and outs and ups and downs that we encounter along the way.
The above sentences were an experiment to prove that we can write off line and paste it into the blog when we have access. As you can see, it worked!
We are enjoying Missouri State Parks before joining our caravan. The problem is they are located out in the woods of the Ozarks with no phone service...thus no internet access. I am posting this with wi-fi in the lodge. We have had a week of interesting adventures. I will ask my roving reporter to catch you up this evening. He is out fishing. Imagine that!
Thanks Wendy, Sarah, Karla, and Esther for being followers. More later.
The above sentences were an experiment to prove that we can write off line and paste it into the blog when we have access. As you can see, it worked!
We are enjoying Missouri State Parks before joining our caravan. The problem is they are located out in the woods of the Ozarks with no phone service...thus no internet access. I am posting this with wi-fi in the lodge. We have had a week of interesting adventures. I will ask my roving reporter to catch you up this evening. He is out fishing. Imagine that!
Thanks Wendy, Sarah, Karla, and Esther for being followers. More later.
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